Page 25 of Ghost

Chapter Nine

King

December 25, 2024, Diamond Creek, Nebraska.

Christmas in the clubhouse was different this year. The excitement was heightened. The joy rang through the clubhouse like nothing I had ever experienced.

Since we’d moved here, we had always had a tree. When Cash claimed Rachel not long after we set up the chapter in Diamond Creek, she insisted on a tree every year. But this year we had three more old ladies and three little girls to experience the magic of Christmas and everything that came with it.

Hash had been up early making breakfast. Maureen holed up in the kitchen with him, making her famous cinnamon rolls. Jesus Christ, her cinnamon rolls were the fucking shit. If she kept showing up here multiple days a week to make them, we’d all have to hit the gym harder than we already did.

Declan usually did the morning rounds on Christmas and came to the clubhouse for dinner. This year, he was here bright and early with Maureen. I was happy my brother had found someone, but I was still pissed at him for all the secrets he’d kept.

I loved the son of a bitch though, and I was glad he was here.

The clubhouse walls were bursting with guests this morning. Mark and Abby, Ryder’s parents, had become fixtures here once I finally got that cut on his back. Charlie had taken to calling them Nana and Pop just like Chrissy. They loved it.

James and Evelyn Samson, Lily’s parents and Ace’s surrogate parents, always spent the holidays with us. Though they were both only about ten or so years older than me, James and Mark both had become men I could look up to. Men I could learn from if I ever had a chance to become a father.

I looked over at the women. A few huddled together on the couch. My eyes locking onto a certain blonde fucking bombshell who had gotten under my skin the first day I met her.

Grace Bishop was mine.

Only I could never have her. She was off-limits. There were rules in the biker world. You didn’t touch a president’s daughter. Whether he was in her life or not didn’t fucking matter.

Instead, I watched her. I made sure she stayed safe, and I tried to stay the fuck away from her. Not that I was very good at that part. But I kept my hands to myself.

Mostly.

Chrissy and Charlie came running into the main room; Tabby following behind them. Tabby had changed so much since Ryder and Ellie got married. She still didn’t talk, at least not to any of us. But she was no longer the scared little girl afraid of her own shadow. She moved about the clubhouse with confidence, and though she didn’t talk, we understood her enough.

They ran straight for Maureen’s dog. Fucking Banshee. That dog had become a permanent fixture here too. Anytime Maureen was here, that dog was here with her.

I guess I shouldn’t complain; he was well trained, and the girls loved him. He was great with them. When he saw them coming, he would roll over and give them his belly, letting us all believe he was submitting to them. But if anyone got too close to the girls too quickly, he was quick to flip himself over and snarl at us.

Except for the women. He loved them, too.

Fucking dog only tolerated the rest of us.

My phone pinged, and I looked down at it.

Braesal O’Malley

My father.

I read the text that said,Merry Christmas, son, and something stirred inside me.

I stared at my phone, not sure how I felt about his choice of words. On the one hand, he wasn’t my father. My father was Curran O’Rourke. He was the man who raised me until I was ten years old before a drunk driver had taken him away. Then Dec stepped up and filled that role while still trying to be my big brother.

On the other hand, it was nice being called son again. I fucking missed my parents. I may have only been a child when they died, but they were the goddamn best.

O’Malley was the fucking Mob boss who had held Blade hostage with a phone call every six months under the guise ofchecking up on himto make sure he kept his mouth shut about who killed his father.

Except Sal used it as an excuse to get to know his nephew.

My fucking cousin. More family I didn’t know I had. Family was important to the Irish. Even the Mob, I guess.

I sent aMerry Christmasback, leaving the dad off. Maybe one day I would see him that way, but that would be a long way off, if it ever happened.

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