Page 109 of The Oath We Take

And I make a commitment to put that right once all this is over. I’m gonna drive down to see her with Atom and make amends.

First, I need to speak to someone who isn’t going to like what I have to say.

It rings for so long, the video call ends, and I redial. He can try to ignore me, but I’m done with being at the bottom of his list.

“Not got time for this now, Em,” he says when he finally answers.

“You do or I’m done.”

For the first time in my memory, my father looks…old. Perhapswornis a better word. Tired. Exhausted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means this will be the last time you put whatever else you’re worried about above me.”

He shakes his head. “Em, look, I’m busy. You blew up the fucking club, I got dissent in the ranks, and you seemingly know about the issues we’re?—”

“How about the issueswe’rehaving, Dad? I have come so far down your list of priorities. You never even wanted me, you just wanted to win. And for that, I hate you. So, you will sit your ass down and listen to me, for once.”

A frown forms on his face, etching grooves into his forehead. “Don’t fucking talk to me like that, Em.”

“Like what? We aren’t father and daughter. Because if we were, I’d be telling you how happy I am with Atom, and you’d be happy I’m happy. You’d be asking Atom to come over for dinner or something. You wouldn’t be threatening him and believing the absolute worst in him. You’d be happy for the two of us.”

I see him look to someone beyond his phone and shake his head. “Gimme one minute,” he says to whoever he is talking to.

One minute.

It’ll either be enough, or it won’t.

“Em, you disrespected me. I didn’t want you hooking up with one of my men. Puts me in a tough spot.”

I take a deep breath. “Dad, you can either choose to hear what I’m saying, and we might have a foundation for rebuilding some semblance of a relationship, or you can speak to me as Butcher and shuffle me in your deck of people you command, in which case, I’ll end this call. You told whoever that was to give you a minute. A single fucking minute. I’m talking about you and me and how you let me down, Dad. You get to choose, right now, what you want. And by your metric, you have about thirty-seven seconds to decide if I’m important enough to you to change.”

Dad looks like he’s about to yell, but then he abruptly stops, takes a deep breath, and rubs his hand across his jaw as he grinds his teeth.

“I’m listening,” he says finally.

“I can’t continue the relationship we had. The one where you kinda cared if it was convenient and didn’t interrupt your other plans. The one where you suddenly cared because I was part of a problem the club and town were having. I need you to be my father. And I need you to believe me that Atom is not at fault here.”

Dad’s eyes flash with frustration. “He went against my word.”

“And you went against your word when you married Mom and then screwed hundreds of club girls. Should I have thrown you out then as unfit for purpose? He loves me, Dad. And I love him. He’s a good man, and you know it. And I don’t know whether you’re overwhelmed by what’s happening, or stressed out at the state of the club, or just fucking pissed because you feel a man you loved—and, yes, you can admit you love him like the son you never had—went against his word. But you can make your peace with him. He’ll look after me, and I intend to live a long and happy life with him. It’s your choice whether you want to be in it.”

I need to know this now. Before Atom can get there with the proof that it wasn’t him, it was Rocco. Lev. Whatever.

I want Dad to make a call based on his true feelings. Because if he fights me now, then comes back later after he’s heard the full story, I’m not sure I’ll be able to forgive him.

“Em, it’s hard to let go of what you believe.” He tugs a hand through his hair, then looks beyond the phone again. “I said give me a motherfucking minute. Walk in here again while this phone is still in my hand, and I’ll tear your fucking legs from your body.”

I don’t know who he is talking to, but I feel sorry for them. They may well have just been given all the anger and frustration he really wants to aim at me and Atom.

“Dad,” I say quietly. I realize he’s trapped in a swirling vortex. Overwhelmed, maybe. Not that he would ever admit it.

“I trusted your safety to the men of the club. The ‘hands off’ wasn’t just so they wouldn’t fall in love with you, but so they wouldn’t hurt you either. How am I supposed to keep you safe from Atom if you won’t listen?”

The hard shell I built around my heart since this morning shows signs of cracking. “You don’t need to keep me safe. I’m an adult. I can do it myself. And Atom is a good man. You’re holding on to the reins too tight.”

“I don’t need horse analogies from my daughter.”

“Here’s the thing, Dad: I think you do. You know what happens when you hold a horse’s reins too tight? It makes the horse tense. Makes them try to fight against the hold. And while they’re doing that, they can’t hear your commands. They try to resist you, often doing the opposite of what you need. Sound familiar?”

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