Chapter 22

This was for Rachel. No matter what shit went down, he’d do this for her.

Jaxon rapped sharply on the scarred wooden door, the sound echoing in the musty hallway. His pulse thrummed in his veins, a mix of anticipation and dread.

When the door creaked open, he came face to face with a ghost from Rachel’s past. Her father’s bloodshot eyes widened in surprise and dismay.

“You’ve got some damn nerve showing up here after everything on the news… and dragging my daughter into the middle of it,” the man growled.

Jaxon curled his lip, fists clenching. “And you’ve got some making up to do.”

“What do you want?” he demanded, scratching at the gray stubble lining his jaw.

Jaxon crossed his arms over his chest, refusing to be baited. “To talk some sense into you. You need to go see Rachel.”

“I don’t need to do shit,” Rachel’s dad spat. “Especially not for that ungrateful bitch.”

A flare of anger ignited in Jaxon’s gut, but he tamped it down. Losing his temper wouldn’t do Rachel any favors.

“She’s been through hell,” he said. “The least you can do is show up for her, if only for a day. Be a man and take some responsibility.”

Rachel’s dad scowled, sinking into a ratty armchair that let out a puff of dust. “You don’t know anything about responsibility. Or about me and Rachel.” His lips twisted. “Always sticking your nose in other people’s business. Just like your old man.”

Jaxon stiffened at the mention of his father, but didn’t rise to the bait. He stared at Rachel’s dad, willing him to understand. “She needs you. Whether you believe it or not.”

Silence fell over the room, thick and cloying. Then Rachel’s dad sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I’ll think about it,” he muttered. “Now get the hell out of my sight.”

Jaxon nodded, a flicker of satisfaction curling in his chest. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.

He strode to the door, pausing on the threshold. “Don’t let her down again,” he said. “Or you’ll have me to answer to.”

With that, he stepped out into the sunlight, a weight lifting from his shoulders. Rachel’s dad would come around. He had to.

Jaxon swung a leg over his motorcycle and fired up the engine, welcoming the familiar roar that drowned out his turbulent thoughts. He’d said his piece, planted the seeds—now all he could do was hope that they took root.

Jaxon’s grip tightened on the handlebars as he rode away. He wanted to believe he’d gotten through to the stubborn old man. That Rachel’s dad would put aside his pride and do what was right.

The traffic seemed to melt away around him as Jaxon rode back to the clubhouse, lost in his thoughts. He couldn’t force Rachel’s dad to change as much as he might want to. But if the old man didn’t step up...Jaxon would just have to be enough for Rachel.

He’d give her the family she deserved, blood relation or not. His brothers in the MC already considered her one of their own. And Jaxon...

His hands tightened again on the handlebars, but this time in anticipation. From the moment he’d first seen Rachel, he’d known she was special. Known that she could be his if he was patient and played the long game.

And now, it seemed, the pieces were finally falling into place. Rachel’s dad was the last obstacle standing between them.

Jaxon hid a smile behind the shield of his helmet. The old man would come around—or Jaxon would make damn sure he regretted the day he’d pushed his daughter away.

Jaxon pulled up outside the clubhouse, gravel crunching under his tires. His brothers were gathered on the front porch, shooting the shit and passing around beers.

Wolf whistled when he saw Jaxon. “Well, look who finally decided to join the party. How’d it go with the old man?”

Jaxon killed the engine and swung off his bike, peeling off his helmet. “He’s gonna visit Rachel, I think.”

A cheer rose up from the others. Jaxon accepted the beer Thrash pushed into his hands, grinning. It was good to know his brothers had his back. And Rachel’s.

“Just like that, huh?” Thrash said. “Bet you had to do some persuadin’.”

“A little.” Jaxon shrugged, gaze drifting to the line of Harleys parked along the side of the building. His mind was already leaping ahead, trying to guess Rachel’s reaction when she opened her door to find her father waiting on the other side.

Would she cry? Throw her arms around the old bastard in joy? He hoped to God she’d call him after, happiness bubbling in her voice as she told him the news.

“You did good, brother,” Wolf said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Real good.”

Jaxon nodded, swallowing a mouthful of beer. Maybe he had. But until he saw the results with his own eyes, he’d reserve judgement.

For Rachel’s sake, he hoped her father wouldn’t let her down again. But if he did...Jaxon would be there to pick up the pieces.

Always.