“If you tell me you’re pregnant, I’m killing someone.”

“I’m in love,” I cry then sniffle, covering my face. “Dad?” I pull the phone from my ear and look at the screen when the phone stays silent.

“I’m here,” he says softly, and I hear shuffling. “Why are you crying?”

“Oh God, Dad. I’m so dumb…so, so dumb.”

“You are not dumb. Now tell me what’s wrong.”

“I was supposed to tell you about Wes, but I never did, and tonight, Uncle Nico came to the compound, and it came out that you don’t know who he is. He told someone to make sure I got home and took off. I don’t want to hurt him. I love him, Dad…like really, really love him.” I cry harder, my breath hiccupping with each gulp of air.

“What do you mean ‘compound’?” he asks.

“Bike compound,” I explain then shake my head. “That doesn’t matter, Dad. Are you even listening to me?”

“Bike compound?” he asks, and I can hear the frown in his voice.

“A place bikers hang out, Dad. Focus.”

“I hope you mean bicyclist, and not an MC.”

“Dad!” I yell, becoming more and more frustrated.

“Fuck,” he clips, then I hear more shuffling. “I’m on my way.”

“What?” I freeze.

“I’ll meet you at your house in twenty minutes max.”

“Dad?”

“See you soon,” he says and hangs up.

I pull the phone from my ear and look at it for a long moment while wondering just how stupid I am. “Oh, shit!” I scream, getting out of the car and coming face-to-face with Mic, who’s standing with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Was gonna knock on your window, but you were on the phone.”

“I was talking to my dad,” I tell him, drying my eyes.

“I heard.” He puts his arm around my shoulders and leads me up to my house.

“Have you talked to Wes?” I ask him, and he shakes his head, making a fresh wave of tears fill my eyes. I shake my head and open my front door, crying harder when Capone begins to jump around at my feet.

“He’ll be back; just give him a chance to cool down,” Mic says, and I nod. I know he’s right, but I hate the idea of him somewhere pissed off at me. Not that he doesn’t have a right to be pissed. I have continuously changed the subject or made excuses for why he and my dad haven’t met, and because of that, I hurt him. I just hope that when Wes does come home, he will be willing to let me plead my case.

“You can go back to the compound. My dad will be here in just a few minutes,” I tell Mic while going to my kitchen and grabbing the roll of paper towels off the counter.

“I’ll just wait until he gets here, if that’s okay?” he asks as I take a seat on the couch, wiping my face. Then I start to think about the last week and the fact I haven’t been alone at all. I pull the paper towel away from my face and look at Mic.

“What’s going on?”

“Just doing a favor for my brother.”

“No,” I shake my head, “I haven’t had a moment’s break over the last week. If Wes isn’t with me, one of you guys is. Why is that?”

“Just being cautious. You know Wes is protective of you,” he states. I know he’s lying, but he pulls his eyes from me, looking at the front door when a car door slams outside, so I know that’s the end of the conversation.

“It’s my dad,” I say when a knock sounds on the door that causes Capone to start barking. Mic nods and goes to the entrance with me. I glare and he just shrugs.

“Hey, Dad.” I open the door and tears pool in my eyes as he pulls me in for a hug.

“This him?” he asks, lifting his chin at Mic.

“No, this is Mic. Mic, this is my dad, Asher.”

“Nice to meet you, sir,” Mic says before his eyes come to me and go soft. “I’m gonna step outside.” He chucks me under my chin before he walks out the door.

“So that’s not him?”

“No, he’s Wes’ friend.” I sigh, going to the couch and sitting down.

“Why’s he here?” he asks, and I hate that I have to lie to him, but there is no way I can tell him what is going on, even if I don’t know all the details.

“Wes is protective,” I say, hoping he will accept that explanation.

“Huh…” my dad grunts, taking a seat. The moment his body folds into my couch, he takes my hand in his, and then his eyes go soft as he searches my face for a long time before he speaks. “So, you’re really in love?” he questions quietly in the same tone he used to talk to me in when I was little, when he would find me crying or upset.

“Yeah.” I nod and swallow through the lump that has formed in my throat then wipe my eyes with the paper towel I still have in my hand.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks, squeezing my hand.

Sheesh! Why didn’t I tell him about Wes? There are so many reasons, but now I feel like none of them make sense. None of them were good enough reasons for hurting Wes.

“I don’t know.” I cover my face with my hands. “Wes is like no one I have been with before; even Jax said that.” I close my eyes, trying to get my thoughts in order before speaking again. “I want you to like him,” I say when I open my eyes. “I love you, and I want you to like him, because I love him.”