“I didn’t mean?—”
“It’s okay.” I reached out and covered her hand with mine. “You’re right. He will be. Because he worked hard to eliminate the threat to his family, rather than trying to hide them from it.” I dropped my eyes to the bar top. “That’s what I should have done.”
Grace turned her hand over and squeezed my fingers. “You’re here now.”
“Twenty fucking years too late.”
“Better late than never.” She looked at me then, really looked at me, and I saw Christina in her face. She was her mother’s twin, except for her eyes. She had my eyes, and in those eyes, I saw questions. Doubts. The weight of discovering that her mother had been someone she didn’t fully know. “I’m still trying to understand why she did it. Why she kept us apart.”
“Me too, baby girl.” The admission tasted like ash. Like failure. “Me too.” I looked down at her hand in mine.
“Your mother,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully, “she wanted to protect you. She never wanted you in this life.”
“Yet this life is all I’ve ever known. She had the chance to keep me from it when we left Arkansas?—”
“But you were in it anyway.”
“Yeah.” Grace smiled. “I was. I am. And I’m okay with that. This is my family now. These men, this club, they’re mine. And I’m theirs. I wanted to run from it after what happened...” She took a deep breath, and I squeezed her hand, wishing I could take her pain, carry it for her. “It was the only time I really wanted to run, and it was the one time I shouldn’t. If I’d left and then found out about the baby, I wouldn’t have hesitated. I wouldn’t have him or her. Wouldn’t have King.” Tears gathered in her eyes as she smiled. One slipped out and ran over her cheek. “I wouldn’t have found you.”
I thought about Christina’s journal. About what else was in there. The secrets, the lies, the answers—all of which I wasn’t sure I would survive.
And here was Grace, surviving the life her mother and I had thrown her into.
“She’d be proud of you,” I said.
“I’m not so sure.”
“Why?”
Grace sniffed and grabbed the towel on the bar to blow her nose. She threw it into the bin behind her and looked at me. “I’m not sure she was the woman you think she was.”
I wasn’t sure either. Not anymore. Not after everything I’d learned so far. How much more would I learn if I kept reading her journal?
Do I even want to know? Or should I just bury it, let the past stay buried, hold on to the memory of who I thought she was?
“I’m proud of you. You’re stronger than both of us ever were. You’re not running. You’re not hiding. You’re standing here in the middle of this life, owning it, making it yours.”
Grace’s eyes filled with tears, and she laughed, wiping at them with her free hand. “Damn hormones. I cry at everything now.”
“Blame the baby.”
“I do. Constantly.”
One of the brothers walked up to the bar, and Grace looked back at me. “Go. I’m not going anywhere.” And I wasn’t. Diamond Creek was now my home. The war was over, and I was retired. There was nothing left for me in New York. I had one friend left, and Snoopy had his own troubles with the woman he wanted. The club was gone. Restructured into something different. Something that would make George Stone roll over in his grave, and it brought a smile to my face.
Fuck you, asshole! You’re dead and I’m still here. Still fighting. Still trying to be the man you wouldn’t let me be.
Around us, the clubhouse buzzed with life. Men laughed and argued and told stories. Prospects ran errands. The jukebox played old rock songs. The smell of whiskey and leather hung in the air.
This was the life Christina had begged me to keep Grace out of.
This was the life Grace had chosen anyway.
And sitting here, being a part of my daughter’s life, watching her navigate this world with confidence and strength, I had to wonder if maybe Christina and I had been wrong. Maybe we hadn’t protected Grace by keeping secrets. Maybe we’d just robbed her of the chance to know where she came from. Who she came from.
Maybe we’d robbed ourselves too.
“Dad?” Grace’s voice was soft, uncertain. She’d started calling me that a few months ago, testing it out. Seeing if it fit.
