Page 19 of Dylan's Dad
“Baby, I don’t think it works that way. I think you have to talk about it to heal from it. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to but I do think you should talk to somebody.” Gripping my chin between his thumb and forefinger he brings my eyes up to his. “You are the fucking strongest person I’ve ever met. You are a fucking Queen, this will not break you. Do you hear me?”
Looking into his oceanic eyes, I nod. He drops his forehead to mine and breathes in deeply. Tipping my chin up with his hand he brings my lips to his in a tender but passionate kiss. Before I can lose myself in him, he pulls away. “I will be at your side battling your monsters alongside you for as long as you will haveme, Little Flower. And if one day you decide this life and me aren’t enough for you I will continue to battle those monsters from the shadows. I will always keep you safe.”
That’s the thing about Reaper, I have always felt safe with him. From the first letter I knew he would protect me. I know to a lot of people that probably doesn’t make sense but he’s become my home. I have never felt as safe as I have since he came into my life. His hold on me loosens as his trembling subsides. I know Reaper has a bit of a savior complex at least he does when it comes to me. I fear the day Dylan is gone and he no longer needs to save me.
“Do you need anything? Some water? Or maybe tea?” he asked tenderly.
“No, I think I am okay now. Maybe you could just hold me till I fall asleep?” I asked hesitantly.
“Of course.” He said shifting me off his lap. I scooched back down to laying on his back and holding his arm out for me to cuddle into his side. As soon as I lay my head down on his chest his arm bands around my waist holding me to him. “Sleep tight, Little Flower. I will be here when you wake up.”
***
Reaper
Last night broke something inside of me, I didn’t even know could break. Waking up to her terror filled screams and her begging for him to stop. It made me feel absolutely helpless and I’ve never felt helpless a day in my life. I know it’s not like I can go back in time and prevent him from hurting or raping her but I can at the very least give her back a small bit of peace by taking out the garbage.
I did as I promised last night, I held her all night until she woke up this morning and then I called Stallion to round up the guys for Church. It is time to end this.
Sitting at this table discussing the end of my bloodline has brought up some conflicting emotions. After last night though, waking to her screams, seeing her terror, I know what must be done. I need to compartmentalize. Dylan is a monster who beat and raped a sweet innocent girl because he saw her as his property, a thing, not her own person.
A hand dropping firmly on my shoulder pulls me from my thoughts. “You know there is no rush. We are keeping Lola safe and Dylan doesn't know where she is. We don't have to make plans today if you aren't ready.” Stallion says keeping his hand on my shoulder.
“No, we do this now! After last night, this can't fucking wait!” I shrug his hand off.
“Wait, last night? What the fuck happened last night?” Locking eyes with mine it only takes him a moment to get it. “Clear the room!” At Stallion's tone everyone but him and me get up and leave the room.
As soon as the door closes he turns back to me, “Tell me about last night.”
“I woke up to her screaming, thrashing, and begging him to stop. Those minutes before she woke up were the worst minutes of my life. I felt helpless, I've never felt helpless like that before.When I was holding her afterwards I realized I'm not helpless. She will never know peace while he is still out there.”
Reaper
The plans have been made and Church has ended but I can’t make myself leave the table. The rest of my brothers left the Chapel and I can hear them starting to get rowdy. I need to go home to Lola and find my comfort in her but I can’t seem to get my body to listen to me. I feel grief and dread at the thought of what is to come. Memories of Dylan growing up flash through my mind. Dylan's first words (Dada), his first steps, him hanging out at the club from toddler to teenager.
The Clubhouse, Years Earlier. . .
The scent of motor oil and leather clung to the air, mixing with the faint aroma of coffee brewing in the corner. The clubhouse was quieter than usual, most of the guys out on a ride, leaving a rare stillness in its wake. I sat in the middle of it all, legs spread, a wrench in my hand—though I wasn’t the one using it.
Dylan sat on my lap, small and serious, his little hands gripping the tool like it was the most important thing in the world. His tongue poked out in concentration, the same way it always did when he was focused. I couldn’t help but smirk. Kid got that from me.
“Not too tight, buddy,” I murmured, keeping my voice steady and warm. “You want it snug, not stuck. Like this.” I wrapped my hands over his, guiding him through the motion, showing him the right amount of pressure to use.
His face lit up the second the bolt clicked into place. “I did it!” he crowed, looking up at me with wide, triumphant eyes.
I chuckled, ruffling his messy black hair. “Damn right, you did. You’re a natural. Gonna be fixing up bikes before you know it.”
His excitement only grew at that, his eyes shimmering with something I recognized all too well—hunger for more. “Can I ride one too?” he asked, practically vibrating in my lap.
I huffed out a laugh, shaking my head. “Not just yet, kid. You gotta get bigger first. But when you’re ready…” I let my voice trail off, the words catching in my throat for a second before I pushed past it. “When you’re ready, I’ll teach you everything I know.”
He beamed, as if the promise alone was enough. Then, without warning, he leaned into me, small hands gripping the edge of my cut like it meant something. And maybe it did.
For a moment, nothing else mattered—not the club, not the business, not the weight of the decisions I carried every damnday. Right here, right now, I wasn’t Reaper, president of an outlaw motorcycle club. I was just a dad, holding his son.
“You’re my best friend, Daddy,” Dylan said suddenly, his voice soft but certain.
The words hit me like a sucker punch, knocking the breath from my lungs. I tightened my arms around him, pressing a hand to the back of his head. “You’re mine too, kiddo,” I said, barely above a whisper.
