Page 99 of The Oath We Take

Wraith looks down at his feet and kicks something in the dirt. “Didn’t think he was going to go as far as he did.”

“But he fucking did, Wraith. And he believed it. He thought I was capable of that bullshit. And while we’re on the topic of people not doing their job well, why weren’t you on top of it? Why didn’t you have processes and procedures for this shit?”

Wraith’s mouth opens a little in surprise. “That’s unfair. I?—”

“Never mind. I gotta go.”

“Atom,” Catfish shouts, hurrying from the clubhouse door. But I can’t face talking to any of them right now.

I start the engine and roar after Ember on the trail.

When I get there, she’s standing on the second step of the porch, her arms wrapped tightly around her middle. She looks towards the red haze of the sunrise as I park the bike.

Men say all kinds of trite things.There’s never been anyone like her. I couldn’t love her more. She’s the one.

I’m sure poets could do a much more profound job than I can. But until Ember, I’ve never looked at a woman and known with unrelenting certainty that I’d burn the whole world down for her.

“Dad wants to take it all away from you,” she says. “Your enforcer patch, your rocker, your cut.”

When I reach her, I put my hands on her hips. On the step, we’re almost eye to eye. “You wanna know something real?”

“Always.”

“I might never get over the sense of betrayal I have right now. Not just with what happened, but with whoever set me up. But one thing will always be true: If this is all I have—you, our home deep on my grandfather’s land, and a sunrise that looks like this—it’ll be a fucking spectacular life, Em.”

She throws her arms around my neck. “Then let’s go there now. Let them wonder where we are. Let them figure out how to solve this without us. Take me back to the cabin, and the river, and sex on picnic blankets.”

I close my eyes and let my head drop onto her shoulder. When I allowed myself to think of a future with Em, it had always been how I’d be able to protect and take care of her. I don’t think I ever allowed myself to consider what it would feel like if she did the same for me in her own way. But feeling the power of her comfort, letting it ease me, is an unexpected blessing.

A hand slips into my hair, stroking my scalp, and I remember something Halo said when we were in Sturgis. It was late, and he was so drunk, but all he wanted to talk about was Ari, his old lady. He said a man needs a soft place to land. A place where he doesn’t need to be hard and strong.

A place that means he never feels alone, no matter how bad the mess.

Ember’s that for me.

I lift my head and see nothing but kindness in Em’s eyes. “I need to stay. Figure out who’s trying to make me look bad to my club. Whoever it is, must have a reason. And for all that I’m pissed at your father right now, I’m fed up with this silent hacking and fracturing of the club. And I need to take some comfort from the fact my brothers trust me, even if my president doesn’t.”

“It’s not going to come to you right this minute. You’re tired. We’re gonna get some sleep, and then I’m going to cook you a full rancher’s breakfast because you’ll think more clearly rested and fed. Then, we’ll put our heads together. Take a ride if we need to because being cooped up here isn’t going to help you solve a goddamn thing.”

She’s right. Some people come up with good ideas in the shower. Mine come when I’m out in nature.

“Let me go talk to the ranch hands, first, given I won’t be out later.”

“Could you call them?”

I look up at the sky, then pull the keys out. There’s a spare set on the hook next to the door she can have. “I want to take a walk, get some air and clear my head, first.”

She kisses me softly. “I’ll wait up for you.”

That makes me smile as I walk by her to open the door and let her in. “Go get in bed. I’ll be there soon, I promise.”

As I walk closer to the stable, the mumbled sound of my father’s voice cuts through the chorus of birds sitting on the roof.

“And I told you I’d have to wait…” There’s a pause. “I didn’t say within a year…” Another pause. “You can’t just kick them off the land and—” My father sees me. “—I’ll have to call you back.”

“Who can’t you kick off the land, Dad?”

“Not me,” he says, unconvincingly. “A friend having problems with squatters.”

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