Page 74 of My Secret to Protect

‘Please don’t hurt her.’

‘I have no intention of hurting her, Lynnie.’

She squeezes my arm lightly and nods like she understands. She knows the depth of my feelings for her daughter and accepts it as truth without further question.

The Campbells continue to astound me. Their ability to accept, to forgive, it’s like nothing I’ve ever known, and with a fresh perspective on the past, as I cook the chicken and enjoy the calm quiet that’s descended between Lynnie and me, I remember the other Campbell who offered me acceptance and forgiveness. If only I had taken it.

Nineteen Years Ago

‘Lightsout.’

Those words. I would never get used to hearing them. Four months in, years to go, and I wondered if I’d ever get used to my life not being my own anymore.

I knew the risks. I grew up in a motorcycle club that always had one wheel over the line of the law, so I’d seen men I had known my whole life locked up and worse over the years, but somehow, I never thought I’d be one of them.

I was invincible. That’s how I felt until I met her.

Everything changed the moment I laid eyes on Bree Campbell. Suddenly, I wanted a different life. I wanted a house, a yard, and a ring on my finger, and I wanted to stay alive. For her, I wanted to stick around, and for the first time, I realized the risks my life held.

I was protected in the club, mostly, my dad made sure of that. I had to earn my stripes and the jobs I did before my stint in the van were basically my training course, my college wasn't dorm rooms and lecture halls, it was practicing shooting a moving target, one that had a pulse and had pissed off the club in some way. I got pulled into stuff that would give most eighteen year olds nightmares, and I learned from the best, because my dad, was the best, but that was just my initiation. All of that was my dad wanting to make sure I'd be safe and could take care of myself if he wasn't around.

When I was given the job of watching Mrs. C, I knew it was to keep me away from that other stuff, but once I rolled in there telling them I wanted out, I knew what had to happen. I had to do something with some risk attached. I had to earn my way out.

For her, the risk was worth it—for a life with her.

I closed my eyes in the dark, and the sounds tortured me: the whir of the air conditioning, the drip, drip, drip of the water against the metal basin, the distant commotion of prisoners protesting their bedtime, the creaks and groans of this old building and the heavy booted footsteps of the guards.

She betrayed me. I wanted to give her the world, and she took mine away.

I was lucky, I guessed. If I was a regular Joe, being locked up in there for the next decade would have been a battle for survival. I’d have had to find a way to become invisible or a way to make myself seen in the right ways—ways that ensured nobody tried anything. As things were, I didn’t have to worry about much. I was royalty in there. The club pretty much owned the governor, so that protection I got outside, I got inside, too. I had a cell to myself, and the message was loud and clear that nobody fucked with me, but some days I wished they would.

I was angry. Every day, I was angry at her, at my life, at my choices. Viking warned me: stay away from the kid, but I didn’t listen. One look at her and I lost my damn mind, and now she got to go after the life she always wanted. By the time I got out, she’d probably be married with a white picket fence and a couple of dogs, some big city detective somewhere, and I’d be a convicted felon with a chip on his shoulder and nothing much going for him.

Closing my eyes, I pushed out my resentment and tried to ignore the way my muscles ached against the paper-thin mattress beneath me. Another night in a shitty bed, that was all I’d ever known, and I accepted in that moment that my life was laid out for me now. It was stupid of me to dare to dream of more.

‘Youlookjustlikeyour father.’

The man sitting opposite me said, and I smiled just a little.

‘You look just like your mom.’

He laughed and nodded, knowing I was telling the truth. Miles Campbell had his mama’s features hidden behind a thick beard, and my heart beat fast in my chest, wondering why he was visiting me in prison.

His elbows came to rest on the table as his fingers intertwined, and he took a deep inhale, then blew it out.

‘It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you. I can’t quite put together the toddler I used to carry on my shoulders with you, a fully grown man.’ He shook his head.

‘All due respect, Miles, and not to be rude at all, but why are you here?’

‘Do you want kids, Arlo?’ he asked, and I shook my head, no. ‘Yeah, I thought that once upon a time too. It might change, maybe not.’ He shrugs and leans back in his seat. ‘I have three: a son, Doug, and my two girls, Zoe, and, well, you know Bree.’

I pressed my lips together at the sound of her name, and he continued.

‘Doug and Zoe, they’re the sensitive ones, the ones led by their emotions. Bree,’ he smiled, ‘she’s the methodical one, the calm, collected one.’ Chuckling, he shook his head. ‘Don’t get me wrong, she has a temper on her, and she’s as stubborn as me, but that girl, she’s strong, unafraid.’

‘Look,’ I tried to interrupt, but he went on.

‘The thing is, Arlo, when it’s Bree crying herself to sleep every night, it gets my attention because that’s not like her.’

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