Page 24 of My Older Biker

The words land like a slap. "I'm an adult. I can make my own choices."

"Can you?" Dad leans back in his chair. The movement is too controlled. "Because from where I'm sitting it looks like you're making choices you don't understand the consequences of."

"I understand—"

"Do you?" His voice rises. Not shouting but close. "You were kidnapped eight months ago. Marrow pulled you out of your bedroom window and held a gun to your head for two hours. You've been in therapy ever since. And now you're choosing to get deeper into this world instead of getting out?"

The mention of the kidnapping makes my stomach clench but I don't look away. "I know what this world is."

"Knowing and living with it are different things. You think you're ready for nights he doesn't come home? For him walking out the door to go kill people and not knowing if he's coming back? You think eight months is enough time to process trauma and decide you want more of it?"

"Stop treating me like I'm too damaged to know my own mind."

"I'm treating you like someone who's been through hell and might not be thinking clearly."

"I am thinking clearly." My voice cracks. "Clearer than I ever have. I love him. And I know what choosing him means. The danger. The violence. The fear. I know all of it and I'm choosing him anyway."

Dad's face does something complicated. Pain and anger and something that might be disappointment. He looks at Dean.

"You're twenty years older than her."

"I know."

"She's my daughter."

"I know that too."

"And you still—" Dad stops. Breathes hard through his nose. "You still thought this was a good idea?"

"No." Dean's voice is rough. "I think it's a terrible idea. I think the age gap is real. I think you have every right to be angry at me. I think I'm risking a friendship that's been the most consistent thing in my adult life for something that might not work. I think all of that. And I'm doing it anyway because I love her."

The room goes silent.

Dad stands abruptly. Walks to the window. Stares out at nothing with his back to us.

"Perry's dead," he says quietly.

The shift catches me off guard. Dean goes completely still beside me.

"I know," Dean says.

"We burned Marrow's base last night. Killed two of them. And Perry's still dead." Dad's shoulders are rigid. "I keep thinking about him. About how he died alone. How no one was there. How he didn't have anyone waiting for him to come home."

"Roan—"

"All these years," Dad interrupts. "You and me. We came up together. Patched in the same year. I trusted you with everything. My life. My daughter's life. And you repay that by—" His voice breaks. He stops talking.

Dean stands slowly. Takes a step toward him. "I'm sorry."

"For what? For wanting her? For taking her? Or for not telling me sooner?"

"All of it. None of it." Dean's hands curl into fists at his sides. "I don't know how to apologize for something I'd do again."

Dad turns. His face is hard but his eyes are wet. "You'd do it again."

"Yeah. I would. Because walking away from her isn't an option anymore. Not for you. Not for anyone."

"Even if it costs you our friendship."