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The ending of the note makes me smile. Love.
I love him.
As each day goes by, I’ve caught a change coming over myself. I’ve started to imagine what my life could be like beyond grief. Before, all I could think about was revenge. That was my life’s purpose, what I thought about every single day — how I would find who was really responsible for my brother’s death, make them suffer, and finally feel like my brother could rest in peace.
But I never thought beyond that.
I never thought what I’d do in those days and weeks and months and years beyond the point where I found revenge; never thought about what my life would be like when I wasn’t always trying to kill the one responsible for hurting me; never thought about how it’d feel to wake up in the morning, drink my coffee like I am right now, and not think about hurting someone for the grievous wound they’d inflicted upon me; never thought I’d meet a man like Dixon; never thought that I’d feel so loved.
My brother’s death shattered what was left of my family, not that there was much there to begin with. My mom died when I was younger, my dad was withdrawn after that — not that he was ever that close or involved to begin with — and there were many days where I wondered if he even thought of me as family at all, since I couldn’t wear a cut.
But now, I have someone. And maybe, I have a family, too, in the members and associates of the Steel Reapers MC. A new family. A found one. That’s just as good. Maybe even better.
I turn the note over in my hands, then fold it up and slip it into my pocket, smiling. It feels strange to keep a note that likely is about the capture and interrogation of a person, but it’s also the first time in writing that Dixon said that he loves me. That makes it worth keeping.
As dark as its implication, it’s also a hopeful note. Maybe soon I can move on, leave all of this behind me, and live a life without a ghost.
On a sudden urge, I take out my phone and dial my dad.
It’s early, but he’ll be awake. It’s not like we’re close — I rarely call him — but he’ll want to know that soon there may be some actual answers about what happened to Lucas. On the first ring, I take a deep breath. This will not be an easy call. It never is. It’s hard talking to your dad when he’s hardly ever been your dad.
“Alex, it’s early. What’s this about?”
“I have a lead, dad.” It isn’t often that I call him ‘dad,’ but I’m in a good mood. After everything that went down with Lucas, a gulf as wide as the Grand Canyon grew between us, and we were never that close to begin with. It’s just as likely that I call him ‘Rafael’ as I call him dad. That I’m calling him, and calling him dad, is enough to put an inquisitive edge in his voice.
“A lead? What are you talking about, Alex?”
“About Lucas.”
“I thought you took care of that. Dixon Green. What happened?”
I flinch. For a second, I feel like he views me as a failure. Even though we aren’t close, he understood my need to get revenge for my brother. How much do I tell him? I can’t tell him I’m in love with Dixon, when for years he and I have both believed that it was Dixon Green who murdered my brother.
“There’s more to it than Dixon. There are others involved. It’s complicated, dad.”
“It isn’t complicated. We know what we know. So what lead are you talking about, Alex? Who is it? Do you need help? I don’t want you going after anyone alone.”
I pause for a moment. My dad has never offered to send help while I’ve been off hunting Lucas’s killer. I’ve always attributed it to him wanting to move on. That, and it’s not like things were really peaceful in the Crimson Fury MC after my brother’s death. There was still the problem with all the drugs in the neighborhoods, and there was still fighting. My dad always said he was too busy for revenge when he was fighting to keep the MC alive, and that the best way we could honor my brother was to protect the people who remained behind. I didn’t disagree then, and I don’t disagree now. I’m just surprised as hell at the offer.
“I have help. I’m not alone,” I say. It feels good to say that out loud. Really good. Not alone. There are people supporting me, people I love and trust, and the idea that I can finally finish this thing and move on feels more real because of them.
“Help? That’s good, Alex. Who’s helping you?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just some people who I know I can trust. They’re reliable, and well, like friends.”
Like friends… just way more serious and with way better benefits. I smile, thinking about Dixon. And his ass. And his abs. And his… ass, again. Yes, the benefits are way, way better.
There’s a long pause.
My dad knows me well enough to know that I’m keeping something from him, but he’d never guess just who I’m keeping from him. He knows me well enough, too, to know that I will not tell him any more about who’s helping me than I already have.
“As long as you can trust them, that’s what matters,” he says. Then his voice gets warm; warm in a way that takes me back to when I was a little girl, when my mom was still alive; when the idea of being part of a happy family wasn’t just some fantasy. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m smiling while on the phone with my dad, because of my dad. “I care about you, Alex. You’re my daughter and the last family I have left, and I love you. So, I’ll let you handle this the way you feel is best, but I want to know who you’re going after. I’m your father, and if something goes wrong, I want to know who took my last family member away from me. Please, Alex, I…"
He stops. There’s a shaking in his voice and, for a long time, I’m stunned. My dad sounds like he’s crying, and I can’t even remember if he cried after Lucas’s death. It’s hard to recall that point in time through the veil of tears that covers every one of my memories.
“Dad, are you…?”
“You’re my daughter. I love you, and I don’t want to lose you. This is your thing, and you’re a grown adult. You’ve earned the right, but I’m your dad. I failed once with Lucas, I know that, but a second time… I don’t think I could live with myself.”
