Page 91 of 12 Months of Mayhem

This man had always been my rock.

My constant.

When the world around me felt shaky and unsteady, he was the mountain that never moved, the one I could rely on to keep my feet on the ground.

Had I been the perfect daughter? Far from it!

But I’d always tried to be the daughter he could be proud of.

Tried.

“Hey, Daddy.” I covered a yawn with the back of my hand and went back to cracking eggs into a bowl. The quiet rhythm of food prep was relaxing, even though I knew it was a temporary calm before the storm because a house full of bikers had a way of turning even the most peaceful moments into organized chaos.

I was used to it by now. My mom started Sunday lunch the morning after she and Dad met, and while I was only little when she died, Dad and I had continued it ever since. Even when I went away to college, I’d made Dad video call me in so I could spend a couple of hours with everyone.

And it had slowly become an entire club effort—some days I’d be here cooking, some days the old ladies would take it on, and if worst came to worst and no one had the will to cook, we ordered in.

The day was about being together—at least, that’s how I imagined my mom intended it to be.

“You need any help?” Dad walked across the kitchen and pulled the coffee pot from the machine, pouring the thick black liquid into a mug. I fought the smile that pulled at the corner of my mouth as I watched him drink half the mug in one go, his face barely flinching at the hot, bitter-tasting liquid before filling it back up and placing the pot in its spot. “What?”

I shook my head, grinning as I turned back to my bowl of eggs. “That’s a lot of coffee.”

He scoffed. “And that’s an opinion I never asked you for.”

I chuckled softly under my breath, my hands continuing to move in all directions on their own. Milk. Salt. Grab the whisk. Stir.

“You banish Shay from the kitchen or something?” he questioned a moment later, realizing someone was missing.

I chuckled. “Not yet. She ran out to grab a few things. We decided about half an hour ago that we were craving breakfast for lunch and needed bacon to make it happen.”

He rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his coffee. “Figures. You two always manage to overcomplicate something as simple as a meal.”

I pointed my whisk at him, leveling him with a raised eyebrow. “Excuse me, but bacon is not overcomplicating anything. It’s a cornerstone of breakfast cuisine. You’ve got your cereal, oats, toast, eggs… and then there’s bacon.”

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled under his breath. “Between you and Shay and your weird life theories, it’s a wonder I’m not locked in a padded room.”

Shrugging, I turned back to my eggs. “Maybe you are, you just don’t know it.”

Shay had been my best friend since we started college, but she’d also since become my dad’s old lady. That took some getting used to.

I lost Mom when I was seven, and since then, I’d never seen my dad with anyone else—at least, not in a serious capacity. When she died, Dad’s focus became me and the club. He ensured I had what I needed physically, emotionally, and mentally. And at the same time, he ran a clubhouse full of men, ensuring that, essentially, they had the same.

He put everyone else before himself and never asked for anything in return.

But he deserved more. And I wanted him to have someone at his side who could give him that same love and support he showed everyone else.

Did I intend for it to be my best friend? Definitely not.

Am I glad that it was?

Hell, yes.

Because I knew she had what he needed.

“Morning all!” I almost leaped out of my skin as Hawk appeared suddenly in the entranceway, grinning like he owned the place. “Smells great in here and I’m starved.”

“He says it like I don’t feed him,” Missy countered, rolling her eyes as she stepped around her old man.

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