Page 20 of His End Game

“Funny, I don’t feel that anymore.”

“You sure you’re not worried I’ll fuck this up?”

Without hesitation, he says, “Not one fuckin’ bit. I wouldn’t have passed it down if I did.”

I admit, it makes this easier, knowing I have his full faith in me.

“I’m going to call a meeting for first thing in the morning. Get the ball rolling where Effie’s concerned.”

“I’ll be there.”

“You sure this isn’t gonna be weird?”

“Nah, I’m looking forward to it.” It’s weird for me. “Don’t forget to announce your VP.”

“Jay already knows he’ll be my second. I’ll tell the others in the morning.”

Dad stands and picks up my cut. Nodding as he stares at his, now my, patch.

“Get on your feet, son.”

I do as I’m told, and he moves behind me. I hold my arms out and he shrugs my cut and comes to stand in front of me. He straightens it and nods.

“I’m glad I got to see this day.”

We both know what he means, and I nod once. Most fathers and sons share football or fishing. I share a motorcycle club with mine and I agree, I’m glad he gets to see me wearing the patch too.

“If you ever need advice, I’m always here. If you need to vent, I’m here. I’ll always understand what you’re going through. I’m always here for you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I mean it, I’m always here. I’m so proud of you… and I love you. I might not say it often, but my heart knows love because of you. Now you wear the patch, I’ll be more of a father to you, and your brother and sister.”

“Dad, what the fuck are you talking about? You’re an amazing father. I’ve never thought otherwise. All my life, all I’ve wanted to be is like you. I’m here today because of you.”

As a kid, I wondered if my dad knew how to cry. Even at his mother’s funeral, he didn’t shed a tear, not one. But standing before me, his eyes water. Before I see any fall, he pulls me in and hugs me so tight, it’s hard not to return the gesture.

“Anyway, enough of that soft shit. Let’s show everyone who you are now.”

Turning to our brothers, Dad’s hand slips down to mine, and he pierces the air with a whistle. It gets everyone’s attention and all eyes land on us.

“Brothers, I give you your new president!”

He lifts my arm into the air and the cheers flood through me, almost deafening to a point. My arm drops to my side as he claps and cheers with the rest of them. After a beat, I signal for quiet.

“Before we look to the future, raise your drinks to my dad, the only president to outlive the gavel! To the man who has given his everything to our patch, to you all and your families for most of his life. Let us count our blessings that this change isn’t because he’s in his grave, that we still get to see his sorry ass around here every fucking day! To Cas, always our president, always our brother, and a Lost Soul till he dies!”

The bar descends into chaos once again and he’s lost to the sea of brothers pulling him toward the bar.

It’s a new era for the Lost Souls and I hope one day, I’ll fill the boots my dad left for me to walk.

The sun is far too bright, and I roll out of bed, needing a piss and a bottle of aspirin. Last night is a blur but the patch on my cut is crystal clear.

Dragging my ass to the bathroom, I take care of my needs and jump in the shower. I had plans to go over to the main house, but I ended up staying at the club. The hot water helps quell the headache and by the time I’m dressed, I’m feeling good and heading down to the kitchen.

Myles sits at the table with his head in his arms, snoring softly, and I grab a pan from the rack. Whacking it with a wooden spoon from the drainer above his head, he jumps up, startled.

“The fuck?”

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