We both know I’m not ol’ lady material.
My mom was never good at it either. Which is why Blaise’s dad mostly kept her away from club stuff. Blaise’s mother, on the other hand, was apparently the stuff perfect ol’ ladies were made of.
Sometimes I wish she’d never died. Wish my mother had never met Bolt and dragged me into this world when I was so young. Wish I’d met Blaise later when things weren’t so complicated.
“What are you thinking about now, Kadence?” Blaise asks.
“Nothing.” How do I explain?I’m thinking about your dead mom, whom I never met, but I wish was still here to teach me how to be your ol’ lady.
His phone goes off, and he reaches over me to snap it up. “What?”
He slides his gaze my way and gives me a half-smile. “Yeah. I’ll be there.”
“Club business?” I ask when he hangs up.
“I won’t be long.”
He stares at me for a few seconds before speaking again. “You still need to stay here.”
I’ve caused Blaise enough trouble. “I will. Promise.”
It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.
CHAPTER NINE
“How’re things working out with Kadence?” my father asks before my ass even hits the chair.
“Fine. Good. Why do you care so much?”
He sighs and drags his fingers through his hair. Never a good sign with my father. “Iron Bulls asked us to their clubhouse tomorrow. Supposed to be a friendly gathering, but I plan to nail Romeo down on some business matters.”
“And?”
“They helped us rescue Kadence. Stepped in shit with Red Storm. Did it ’cause you told them she was your ol’ lady.”
I raise an eyebrow waiting for him to continue.
“You need to bring her with you. And she needs to behave like an ol’ lady should. No mouthin’ off. No contradicting you in front of them.”
“Dad, her half-sister is Dante’s ol’ lady. They woulda helped us anyway.”
“Dante would have. Romeo and the others wouldn’t have gotten involved.”
I’m not in the mood to argue with my father, so I nod. “Fine.”
“I spoke to Romeo.”
“And?”
“They’re willing to back us up with this ‘Kadence stole our meth’ bullshit Deacon’s trying to ram down my throat.”
“That’s good news.”
Even though it’s good we have another club, especially one as well-organized as the Iron Bulls, in our corner, grim lines are still etched in my father’s expression.
“How’s that look?” I ask.
“Like it’s gonna get bloody.”
