He chuckles. “Pretty painful.”
“My dad make you apologize?”
“Yes and no. I mean, he’s right. I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way, and I’m genuinely sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
He nods and then seems to be waiting for something.
“What?” I ask as the silence stretches out.
“Anything you want to apologize for?”
Holy shit.
He actually thinks I’m going to apologize for slapping him. Well, if that’s what he’s waiting for, he’s going to be disappointed.
“I’m not sure what you mean,” I say, playing dumb.
He grunts. “You slapped an officer of the Renegade Demons. Do you know what would have happened to you if you weren’t Silver’s daughter?”
“But I am his daughter,” I say.
The silence stretches out between us and he shakes his head. “You always were a ball buster. Someday, you’re gonna have to learn to obey your man.”
He’s so damn annoying.
“If you say so.” I turn as my father calls to Landon.
“Grim—walk with me.”
“Dad—” I step in that direction, but Pete steps between us.
“What’s the matter? Pretty boy can’t take care of himself?”
“He absolutely can but it’s Dad’s birthday and he promised?—”
“It’s fine, babe.” Landon presses his lips to mine, waiting for Pete to get out of the way. Then he winks as he walks away. Pete and Metal and a few of my father’s other confidantes fall into step behind them and my stomach knots with worry.
Shit.
“It’s okay, sugar.” My mom’s closest friend, my aunt Fern, touches my arm. “It’s a rite of passage.”
“It’s notLandon’srite of passage,” I mutter.
“But he’s a grown man, and from what I hear, he can more than handle your dad.”
I stare in the direction they went, into the clubhouse, and it takes a lot of self-control not to run after them. But that would embarrass my father and probably emasculate Landon, even though he wouldn’t say so.
“After all these years you still hate this life, don’t you?” There’s no censure in her voice, merely curiosity, like she can’t quite understand how anyone could find a problem with the club. “Your mom knew how to find a balance between both worlds.”
“But she didn’t want this for me,” I say, taking a pull from the bottle in my hand. “She wanted me to follow my dreams, not live the life of an old lady.”
“I like being an old lady,” Aunt Fern says. “Brett loves me. He’s a good provider, a good dad, and he takes care of me.”
“So, he didn’t have an affair with a nineteen-year-old bunny fifteen years ago?” I ask. She cried in my mother’s arms the night she found out. I was a teenager but it was one of many things that shaped my opinion about living their life.
“He made a mistake. We grew apart after we had kids. I wasn’t taking care of his needs and?—”
