“Hi,” I say awkwardly, looking from one man to the other.
“’Mornin’ baby,” Tracker says softly, then turns his eyes to my dad, his face going hard. “Your father, and I use that term loosely, wants to talk with you. It’s up to you whether you let him. I can always kick his ass out.”
My dad pleads with me with his eyes.
“It’s fine.”
Tracker comes to me. “Call out if you need me, all right?”
I nod, and he leaves the room, but not before giving me a possessive kiss.
I sit down on the couch, then motion for my dad to do the same.
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask him, threading my fingers together and resting them on my lap.
“I was wondering if I could take you out for dinner,” he says, clearing his throat. “Slowly get to know you a little better, maybe?”
He wants to get to know me, now? I have to ask why. Is it my connection to the club? Or is it just an old man full of regrets for his life choices?
“When?” I find myself asking.
“How about next week sometime? Or whenever is convenient for you,” he says quickly, looking hopeful. “You know, I wanted to do something nice for you. So I was going to pay for the apartment you’re living in—instead of renting it you would own it. But when I went to talk to the landlord about it, he said he’d already sold it. Tracker bought it and put it in your name.”
My jaw drops. “He did what?”
My dad nods, smiling ruefully. “That apartment is fully paid for, and in your name. Have you checked your bank account? The money you paid for rent will still be in there, untouched.”
“Holy shit,” I blurt out. “I can’t believe he did that.” I look at my dad. “And you didn’t need to try to do that for me. That’s too much. I never wanted anything from you, except you. Yes, there were times Mom and I struggled financially, and I hated that you were rich but didn’t help her out, but I still would never ask anything from you.”
His face ages before my eyes at my confession. “I really am a selfish fuck, aren’t I?”
Kind of, but I didn’t say anything.
“Anything you want, Lana,” he murmurs. “It’s yours.”
I think it over. “I want Mom to be able to retire early. She works so hard, every day. Always has. I paid off her house for her. She does so much for me, always made sure I had whatever I needed. Now I’d like to repay her in some way.”
A thoughtful look comes over his face. “She won’t quit her job, and she’s too proud to accept anything I offer. How about a large retirement fund for her?”
I nod. “Sounds good.”
“The fact that you asked for something for her and not you, says to me just how well she raised you,” he says, looking down at his hands. “I wish to God I had some part in that, but I didn’t. All I can do is try having you in my life now, as little or as much as you’ll give, and I’ll be grateful.”
I nod stiffly.
It’s time for me to forgive.
To let go of the past hurt and to live in the present.
“Oh, wow,” I say, starting to feel emotional. “Dinner sounds great . . . Dad.”
THIRTY
WHAT happens in the next book? Tell me, now,” Faye demands, looking at the laptop screen over her shoulder. “Does Alexander die? Or does he come back and kidnap Kylie?”
I save my work and close the laptop, spinning on my chair to face her. “Faye, give it a rest, I’m not ruining the story for you.”
She pouts. “But . . . why not? Come on! Aren’t there any perks of knowing an author?”
“Free signed books. Advance copies. The fear of knowing everything you do and say could end up in a book.”
She grimaces. “Pretend I didn’t tell you earlier how annoying my mother-in-law is.”
We both laugh. “Too late, might already be in there.”
“You should name a character after me,” she suggests. “Faye is an awesome name. It means fairy.”
I roll my eyes. “Fine, I’ll name my next heroine Faye.”
“Sweet! Can you name the dude Dex? I can’t see me fucking anyone else, even in print.”
I still. “Holy shit that was a cute line.”
“I have my moments.” She shrugs, then pauses. “You can use that line. In fact, you should probably take notes from me.”
“I’ll get right on that,” I reply dryly.
“The book should be called The Biker Queen,” she continues, waving her hand through the air. She then looks at me. “What do you think?”
“I think you should write the book yourself,” I suggest. “It could be awesome.”
She nods. “Good idea. Maybe they’ll make it into a movie.”
I nod, on the verge of laughter. “Make sure you tell Sin beforehand though, or what happened with Tracker might happen to you.”
Her eyes go wide. “You’re at the stage where you can joke about that? Awesome! Because I had a few jokes I was keeping to myself, not wanting to hurt your feelings.”
I scrub my hand down my face. “Seriously?”
“Yeah,” she says. “Crap. I better go get Clover from school.”
I look at the time. “She doesn’t finish for another thirty minutes.”
She grins sheepishly. “I know. I just like to be there early, just in case.”