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“You already do.”
“You’ll tell me if I don’t.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Will you tell me if I don’t make you happy?”
He kisses my forehead. “Not possible. Just breathing the same air as you makes me happy.”
“Chaser, is everything okay? Did something happen because of what I said to my father?”
He steps back, brow furrowed as he considers my question. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Stump said he was happy for us.” I bite my lip and drop my gaze. “Did he change his mind?” Not that I think it matters to Chaser, but at least one of our fathers should approve of our marriage.
A fist thumps against our door before Chaser has a chance to answer the question.
“Party’s starting!” someone shouts.
“That’s our cue to get out there,” I whisper.
Maybe it’s better if he doesn’t answer my question.
Chaser brushes his knuckles under my chin. “Are you ready, future Mrs. Adams?”
I grin at him. “Absolutely, future Mr. Dove.”
He pulls me in, hugging me tight. “Never happening, but I love you.”
“Mr. DeLova?” I raise a teasing eyebrow.
“Fuck no. I’d take Dove before DeLova.”
“Good to know. Good to know.”
Shaking his head, he takes my hand and leads me into the main room of the clubhouse.
“Here’s the happy couple!” Tally yells.
We stop under the archway leading into the bar area while everyone shouts congratulations and cheers for us. It’s rowdy and unlike anything I’ve ever been a part of but I savor every second of pure, honest emotion.
I hold up my left hand and flash my ring at the room. “We’re engaged!”
More cheers and a few crude words are thrown at us. Some “ball and chain” jokes and “better run while you can” comments, which Chaser ignores.
Stump embraces both of us and kisses my forehead. “Welcome to the family, princess,” he whispers before turning around and pushing me forward. “My future daughter-in-law. Couldn’t ask for a better woman for my son.”
A beat of silence passes before everyone shouts another round of congratulations. My guess is Stump doesn’t often demonstrate affection.
“Thank you, Mr. Adams—”
“Dad.”
“Thank you…Dad.” My eyes water and I tell myself it’s only because of the heavy cloud of smoke hanging in the air. “Thank you for always making me feel like I belong here.”
He stares at me and swallows hard before looking away. “You’re family, Mallory. You’ll always belong here.”
Chaser’s staring daggers at his father and brushes him off when he tries to hug him.
Well, I guess that answers my earlier question.
Chapter Twenty-One
Chaser
The bikers who call this clubhouse home will use any excuse to party. But engagements don’t happen often, so they’re extra rambunctious tonight. Doe and a few other old ladies pull Mallory away to check out her ring and discuss wedding stuff. I hate to break it to Doe but I’m warming up to Mallory’s “let’s elope” idea every time I look at my father.
I plant my moody ass at the end of the bar where I have a good view of Mallory and the girls. Brothers stop by to shake my hand, congratulate me, and offer their advice—none as out of line as my father’s, thank fuck.
I signal for the prospect behind the bar to hand me another Corona.
“You think that’s a good idea?” My father’s rumbling question spikes my anger right back to the red zone.
I take a long, slow guzzle before answering his question. “Come to give me more shitty guidance?”
“After your…issue.” He nods to the beer bottle I have my fist wrapped around.
“My issue wasn’t alcohol. This is the first beer I’ve touched in months.” I cock my head. “What the fuck happened to you all of a sudden—get your grubby mitts on a copy of Parenting magazine and decide to make up for lost time?”
Instead of laughing, he hoists his big ass up on the stool next to me and orders his own beer. “I’m sorry, okay? I should’ve kept my mouth shut.”
I peer into my bottle. Maybe the little shit behind the bar laced it with LSD. That would sure explain this hallucination. Stump Adams apologizes for nothing to anyone. Ever.
“Come again?” I cup my hand around my ear and lean closer to him.
“You heard me.” He slaps me on the back with enough force to push me forward. “I ain’t repeatin’ myself.”
I tug at my ear. “I think I heard sorry come out of your mouth? But that can’t be right.”
He mutters a few curses under his breath. “Mallory’s a good girl. And I shouldn’t have brought up your mother.”
“Thank you.” My gaze lands on Mallory again. This time she catches me staring and waves. “She’s not good. She’s the best. Don’t forget it again, old man.”
“Fine. Fine. Fuck. I wish I’d never opened my mouth.”
I tap my bottle against his. “That makes two of us.”
“Maybe I was worried some of my shittiness rubbed off on you. That you’ll fuck things up because you need the thrill of something different once in a while.”
I groan and thump my forehead against the sticky wood bar. “Really?”
“Like father, like son and all that. But you’re different from me.”
“You don’t say,” I mumble.
“In a good way.”
I pick my head up and stare at him. “You ever think that growing up watching you be such an asshole helped me decide what kind of man I wanted to be? You taught me a lot of good things—I could always count on you to show up for me. At school, whatever I needed. Gave me your undivided attention too, even though you had a lot on your shoulders. Taught me the value of hard work. And to stand up for myself and for others. To be level-headed under pressure. When I’m ready to snap sometimes, I ask myself—would Dad handle it this way?”
He swallows hard and nods. “I tried.”
“Yeah, I get that it wasn’t easy for you. I know I was a little fucker sometimes—”
“Sometimes?”
“But, fuck I hated what you did to Mom. Hated watching her try so fucking hard to please you all the time and you not giving a shit.”
“Is that what you saw?”
“Yeah, that’s what I saw.” I rub my hands over my face considering how to put these feelings into words. “It was hard to reconcile the two. You were a good dad. Tough on me, for sure.”
“Not tough enough,” he mutters.
“You were lousy to my mother, though. I couldn’t comprehend why you’d treat someone you supposedly loved the way you treated her.”
“I did love her.”
I wave my hand toward the rest of the clubhouse. “I get that fucking without remorse is an admirable quality in a biker, but the damage caused isn’t worth living up to the stereotype.”
He seems to take all of that in and finally says, “I’m sorry.”
“Two in one day. I should get engaged more often.”
“Enjoy getting all this off your chest, Russell,” he warns. “Tonight’s your free pass.”
“Gee, what’ll you get me for our wedding?”
“A swift kick in your ass if you don’t stop mouthing off.”
I take another swallow of beer and consider my words. “I knew if I ever found the right girl, I’d do the opposite of whatever the fuck you did with women.”
He snorts. “That must be uncomfortable.”
“You know what I mean,” I growl, not in the mood for his attempt at humor. “While I was on tour, I missed the fuck out of Mallory. She wasn’t out of sight, out of mind for me.”
“Then you’re a rare breed, son.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“Am I allowed to interrupt?” Mallory’s soft voice eases my lingering irritation.
“Always.” I cu
rl my arm around her waist, and drag her between my knees, pressing her back to my chest. “You having fun?” I ask against her ear.
“I am.” She reaches out to my dad. “Are you sure you’re still happy about this?” She wiggles her fingers at him, showing off her ring.
“My father isn’t giving you trouble, is he?” There’s a catch in her voice. Maybe she sensed the hornet’s nest Dad and I have been kicking around over here in our corner of the clubhouse. “I may have gotten carried away when I spoke to him.”
“You were fantastic.” I kiss her cheek again. “He needed to hear what you said.”
