Page 23 of Callow

“I went back to the car to get Daphne out so we could shelter somewhere safer,” he told me. “A bullet ripped through the glass and grazed me. It’s nothing. But Daphne was understandably hysterical as we ducked behind the engine block, waiting for it to be over.”

“You’re sure she’s okay?” I asked, glancing back at the clubhouse.

“She wasn’t shot. She’s, physically, okay. But when it was over, she had to get back in the car with me and one of our other brothers who was shot several times. So she’s… been through a lot of shit today.”

My legs felt a little shaky.

I moved toward him, this man who I maybe should have been pissed at since his violent lifestyle had put Daphne in danger. But the fact of the matter was, my kid should have been in school. She shouldn’t have been following around a full-grown man. And when things did happen, he’d jumped into action to protect her.

I climbed up on the picnic table, exhaling hard, trying to grab hold of a singular thought instead of getting dizzy from the hurricane of them.

“Wait… why am I not talking to the police right now?” I asked. But when I glanced over at Callow, his brow was raisedin a way that saidYou know the answer to that.“Right,” I said, nodding.

“I can’t stop you from going to the police,” he said.

“Then why did you even tell me?”

“Gonna be honest, Daphne tried to get me not to bring you into the loop,” he said, making me sigh.

Of course she did.

What was going on with my daughter?

“But this isn’t some stupid teenage shit. She’s… been through some shit. You needed to know about it.”

“Thank you for not taking her up on that. I’m sure that would have been easier for you. I, ah, I’m not going to call the police,” I said.

I mean, I wasn’t going to lie. It would probably reflect badly on me. Not only was my kid hanging out with outlaw bikers, but she was skipping school, and who-knew what else.

Calling them was, objectively, the “right” thing to do. But that didn’t mean it was the right thing to do for us.

“You alright?” Callow asked as I sat there for a long few moments, just lost in my own thoughts.

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Want to talk about it?” he asked.

God, I did.

And this wasn’t exactly something I felt like I could talk about to Britney. I knew she would insist I go to the cops.

“What the fuck am I supposed to do about this?” I asked, glancing over at him.

“I’m kinda hoping that this scared the shit out of her,” Callow said.

“Yet she still managed to be clear-headed enough to try to manipulate you into not telling me what happened,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s probably not great,” he admitted, shooting me a smirk. “I wish I had advice for you,” he said. “But I don’t know shit about parenting.”

“Yeah, no one does,” I said, sighing. “We all just do it on the fly, I think. I’m starting to worry I’m fucking it all up.”

“I dunno. Just sounds like she got her wild genes from you and her old man.”

“Yeah, but I was never involved in a shootout,” I said.

“Could you have been?” he asked.

Thousands of memories rushed back. Hanging out with drug dealers. Partying at random people’s houses. Sneaking into clubs, venues, colleges.

---