Page 54 of The Oath We Take

Atom:I really like this.

Me:Please don’t tell me you want to read it too like Wraith. I feel like that’s a line I can’t cross.

There is another row of laughing emojis.

Atom:No. Not the book and you pretending you were a part of their book club. THIS! You and me. Talking.

I know Atom isn’t much for verbal romantic declarations. He’s an acts-of-service kind of guy. But I love that he likes this.

Me:I definitely like this side of you better than the man who was mad at me holding on to a guy I went on one date with for two seconds longer than he liked.

This time, he sends a row of raised eyebrows.

Atom:Then don’t ever give me a reason to be that guy. See you soon, sweetheart.

Fifteen minutes later, some of the other senior club members begin to filter into the clubhouse. Taco arrives first and sits at the bar. Catfish arrives five minutes later and pulls a cue off the wall and smacks the white ball into the triangle of colored balls racked at the bottom of the pool table.

He plays alone until Wraith joins in.

And then, Atom arrives, walking in with the casual saunter of a man utterly comfortable in his own skin.

He doesn’t fidget or talk or fuss with his clothes.

Instead, he quietly helps himself to a coffee from the pot on the back of the bar. But when he looks up, he catches my eyes on him in the mirror behind the bar and winks.

Dad returns to the bar and doesn’t even try to hide the fact he’s fastening his belt. When Karlie follows a moment or two later with a grin on her face, I know exactly why.

I grab my phone and quickly type.

Me:You touch another club girl while we’re doing this, and I’ll break your fingers.

Atom sips his coffee and glances down at his phone. A wide grin crosses his face.

Atom:Wouldn’t expect anything less, sweetheart. You got my word.

Me:Good. It’s a hard boundary for me. I don’t share.

Atom:Would bury any fucker who touched you. Rocco gets the smallest of passes.

Now it’s my turn to smile.

“Need you to get out, Em. Got a meeting with my boys,” Dad says as he passes me.

It’s a small thing, but it’s always stung that Dad refers to the men as his boys. I’m his girl. His only daughter. And these men have become his surrogate sons, even though many of them are closer in age to him than I am, making it a medical improbability.

Just a reminder of where I sit in my father’s hierarchy.

“Let Atom escort you home when he’s done here,” he says as he passes.

“About that,” Wheeler, Atom’s dad, says, catching up with him. “Atom’s got shit he needs to do at the ranch.”

Wheeler gives me side-eye like I’m some kind of scum.

Butcher stops. “More important than protecting my daughter, Wheeler?”

“Prez, there’s a clubhouse full of men who don’t have full-time jobs and would willingly volunteer to do this, to cover for Atom.”

There’s a thing my dad does when he knows he has someone cornered. He smiles to himself—I sometimes think he’s internally applauding himself for his genius—before letting anyone else know what he’s thinking.

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