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Except I reread the same page about fifty times. My mind was running over the events of the day. The way Elden had looked at me, utterly devastated, disgusted in himself.
The things he’d said to Swiss and everyone else in the common room at the club.
The way Swiss had looked at him. The unfiltered hatred in that gaze.
Then I stopped thinking of the past and started wondering about the future. What did that look like? Was I going to join the ranks of Old Ladies? Their lives seemed so wonderful... So unique, so outside of what was expected.
But that would mean abandoning the dreams I had for myself.
My hand was on my stomach the entire time I ruminated on this, working myself further into a spiral.
There was a knock at the door, and I looked up to see Swiss standing there hesitantly, holding a plate.
“I brought cookies,” he held them up as if they were a white flag.
“You may enter,” I replied, putting the book down.
His boots thumped as he entered the room I had made my own since they moved in. I had my own patio, my own bathroom complete with a tub, and the floor to ceiling bookshelves in a nook by the window were bursting with books.
Nothing from our house in Carver Springs had come here. All of that was tainted.
I watched Swiss as he gingerly handed me the plate of cookies.
“I’m sorry,” he said, sitting down on the end of my bed. “I was an over the top, protective, an asshole.”
I tilted my head as I nibbled on a cookie. “Did my mom tell you to say that?”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “No, but that was one of the many things she called me when she told me off.”
My mom told Swiss off. That didn’t surprise me. She never hesitated to snap at him for being too protective, too alpha. They spent almost her entire pregnancy arguing over whether or not she could work at the restaurant.
Mom won all of those arguments.
I’d never seen my mother tell my father off. She hadn’t dared argue with him.
Mom was safe enough, comfortable enough to have a voice, raise it if she wished.
We both were. I’d yelled plenty at this man earlier today, in front of his brothers, his president. Many men, lesser men, would not come in here looking sheepish or carrying cookies.
But the Sons of Templar men were an anomaly. Alphas. Possessive. Deadly. Soft. Kind. Loving. Feminists in their own, warped way.
Swiss let out a long sigh. “I know you don’t have exactly fond feelings toward the inner workings of the club and the things we consider sacred.”
I didn’t reply because I didn’t need to. I’d made my feelings rather clear earlier.
“When I met your mom, I knew she was mine,” he continued. “The second I laid eyes on her. And I need to make something clear… I don’t mean she was mine to own. She was mine to earn. To treasure. Protect. And again, I know you’ve got feelings about whether or not women need to be protected,” he pointed out, telling me he’d heard me when I’d yelled at him. “And fuck, maybe we are all just cavemen,” he showed me his palms. “But not because we don’t respect you. But because we do. Because we all understand what kind of woman it takes to live this life, to love us, fucked-up as we are. And maybe we’re a little intense about it.”
“A little?” I repeated.
“A fuck of a lot,” he sighed again. “But that’s ’cause life has taken a lot from all of us, we’re all just waiting, prepared for it to take another thing.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I consider you my daughter, if not in blood, in everything else that matters. Your future, your health, your happiness, it’s something that I consider my job to ensure. It’s any father’s job to want that for their little girl.”
Though his words punctured me somewhere soft and vulnerable, I opened my mouth to correct some of them.
“And you’re not a little girl,” he added before I could speak. “You’re a young woman. One who is more than strong enough to stand up for herself, for others, to yell and swear and pretty much do anything else she puts her mind to,” his eyes twinkled. “You’re a woman who knows what she wants and takes it. I’m very proud of that, even if it had nothin’ to do with me and everythin’ to do with your mother.”
He studied me, rubbing at his chin. “I’m excited to be a grandfather,” he said finally. “Thought I’d like to be a little older,” he shrugged. “Thought I’d be walking you down the aisle before that happened. Thought you’d give me some gray hairs before you settled down, if you ever did.”
I grinned at his bald head.
