Page 96 of 12 Months of Mayhem

“Scorch!” his voice called, echoing into the stairwell.

The word hit me like a punch to the gut.

“Wait, what?” I said, my voice rising as I let go of Adrian’s hand. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Uh, is this… something I should know about?” Adrian asked, his expression uneasy.

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. “No, it’s not. I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Adrian said, clearly unsure, but he pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before heading to his car.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, I spun around and stalked after my father, my blood boiling.

I found him in the kitchen pouring himself a cup of coffee like he hadn’t just hijacked my plans while Hawk sat at the table, glancing between the two of us in confusion. “Am I missing something?”

“I’m not going, Dad,” I said sternly, folding my arms across my chest and lifting my chin. “No way. It’s not happening.”

“Calliope…” My full name, mixed with my father’s no-shit tone, had never failed to make me stand a little taller like someone had pricked a needle into my ass cheek. “This is non-negotiable.”

I shook my head, feeling like a rebellious child about to try to argue their way out of curfew. “I’m twenty-seven years old, I get to make my own choices about this,” I protested, trying to hold strong to my resolve despite how my stomach was now churning, memories building, returning from the depths of wherever the hell I’d managed to banish them to years ago.

I’d spent the past ten years avoiding and ignoring that damn event like the plague. For years and years, going to Arizona had been the thing I looked forward to the most. Not my birthday, not Christmas—nothing else compared to how it made me feel.

But when something has that kind of hold on your life, and suddenly it falls to pieces beneath your feet—it’s hard to go back and act like it doesn’t hurt.

And that’s exactly what I would have to do.

Act like the memories didn’t feel like a couple of shots through the chest. Like just being there doesn’t make it hard to breathe.

All because no one else knew why or what it was that made me stop going to Scorch.

Nobody but him and I.

“Dad, seriously…”

“Calli!” His hand came down hard on the kitchen counter, the impact rattling everything that sat across the top. “This year, every Exiled Eight MC chapter will be there, families too, and like hell I’m showing up as the president of this club without my only fucking child there.”

My stomach twisted, the sharp, Dad tone having morphed into something different. Hurt. Disappointment.

I gritted my teeth, fighting the tears that I didn’t want to try to explain.

“I’m not asking you for much,” he added, his voice softening just enough to make it worse. “I’m asking you to stand by me. To show up. Not for the club, not for anyone else… for me.”

“Well, Jesus Christ,” I muttered, swiping at a single tear that escaped and throwing my hands in the air. “Sprinkle a little more guilt on it, why don’t you?”

Hawk covered his amused grin with the back of his hand, so I picked up a discarded eggshell off the counter and tossed it at him, hitting him directly on the side of the head. “Hey!” he protested, trying to wipe away the leftover egg white that had been inside. “Why are you picking on me? He’s the one making you go.”

I pointed at Dad, who was still standing across the kitchen, a coffee mug in his hand and a scowl on his face—directed at me. “Do you want to fire something across the kitchen at that face?” I challenged, Hawk instantly screwing up his nose. “Exactly. I may be twenty-seven, but I’m still a lot more scared of him than I am of you,” I answered, pointing at the scary man in question.

Hawk was my dad’s vice president, but he was also my cousin, and my dad had basically raised him since he was in his early teens.

So we had that sibling kind of relationship where we drove each other crazy most of the time.

“Woah, who shat in your coffee?” Shay questioned as she stepped into the kitchen and immediately zoned in on the stormy look on Dad’s face.

I threw up my hand and rolled my eyes. “Apparently, that would be me.”

She walked over to him and tucked herself into his side. The tension in his shoulders visibly melted the second her arm looped around his waist, and for the first time since our argument started, his scowl softened.

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