Page 144 of Peaks and Promises

“No, not the man who fathered you.” She pointed at the back door. “Him. Do you see the way he treats Nate? The way he accepted him into our family? That’s how he was with you, from day one. And you’re just like him, Reese. You don’t have his DNA, but you have his character.”

“I wish that were true.”

“It is true. That heart in your chest is so much bigger than you realize. It’s a Haven heart. But you have to let go and turn that love inward enough to forgive yourself. You don’t deserve to be punished for the rest of your life. And the other shoe is not going to drop. Your family is not going to abandon you.”

A lump of emotion lodged in my throat just as Nate burst through the back door, talking about hand-feeding a squirrel. Mom stepped in to intercept him while I turned away, trying to get my shit together. I wasn’t going to lose it in front of Nate—or my dad—but it took a lot to keep the dam from breaking.

You’re just like him, Reese. You have his character.

Dad grinned while Nate kept chattering about the squirrels behind the shop and how they came right up to him and grabbed birdseed out of his hand. Mom was absolutely right. Dad had embraced Nate from the moment he arrived. Mom had, too. But there was something about stoic Paul Haven hanging out with a ten-year-old boy.

That was the thing. My dad was the best man I’d ever known.

He’d forgiven me. And he meant it. Paul Haven was no liar. He’d been willing to move past what I’d done to him. My entire family had done the same. Maybe they’d followed his lead, but maybe it was simpler—and deeper—than that. He’d raised them to be the type of people who could forgive.

And maybe it was time I learned to forgive myself.

Axel

The bonfire’s light flickered in the darkness, and the sound of bike engines ebbed and flowed around me. Plenty of booze, plenty of women. Gunshots popped in the distance, followed by cheers. Target practice. Probably shooting empty liquor bottles.

Everyone around me was in a good fucking mood. Drinking, smoking, getting high. Pitching each other shit around the fires. Wandering off with their old ladies or one of the groupies to fuck in a tent—or out in the open.

I hated every second of it.

Although the sun had set, the temperature hadn’t budged much. Sticky sweat made my clothes cling to me. That kind of thing never used to annoy me, but now it seemed like everything pissed me off. The heat. The bonfire. The booze. The partying around me. It was all fucking irritating.

Stryker stood nearby, talking with some of the other higher-ups in the club. Roxi stayed behind him, warding off groupies with vicious glares. Just looking at him made me seethe with resentment.

He’d told me I’d get over it. I could father an army of brats if I wanted to. I had to let the kid go. It was an order.

He was right. I didn’t need Nate. But he was also wrong. I wasn’t going to get over it.

Summer had fucked me over. And Mayhem knew it.

I saw the looks they gave me—eyes narrowed and lips curled with disdain. I’d become the guy who couldn’t control a woman. Who’d lost his kid because of it.

Taking a pull of my beer, I stared into the flames. It wasn’t my fault. I’d taken the fall and done time for the good of the club. Sure, they’d kept track of Summer so she couldn’t disappear with my kid before I got out. But what had that cost them? Nothing. I’d given up my freedom for them, and what had they done for me?

Let my kid go, that’s what.

And now I had to take the fall again. It wasn’t prison. It was worse. Prison had been nothing compared to losing the respect of my club brothers.

Buzz sat down on a log nearby with a bottle of whiskey. He’d tried to claim he had my back by following me to Tilikum. He did it to keep me out of trouble. But looking at him now, all I could think about was what he knew. He’d been there when Stryker had neutered me. He’d never respect me again.

Someone tossed more wood on the fire, spraying sparks into the air. The heat beat at me, but I didn’t move. For a second, I had a vision of walking into the flames and standing there while the fire consumed me. Burned my flesh from my bones.

“Another boy.”

The voice roused me. Breaker. His old lady had just squeezed out another one of his spawn that morning. He already had three sons. Why the hell did he need another one?

“The next generation of Mayhem,” someone else said. “It’s good shit, man.”

“Didn’t Ares have a boy, too?”

“Twins. One’s a boy.”

“Fuckin’ awesome.”