Sniper | Fallen Angels MC #3

Chapter 30

Two more chapters left!

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"Have you texted Scott or Patricia yet?"

I was eyeing my dad who hadn't paid attention to my mother for a second since we stepped in the club.

"Noah?"

"Hm?" I couldn't make my mother use my road name, so some of my brothers had decided to take the booth behind us and snicker the whole time.

"Have you texted Scott or Patricia yet?" My mother was twirling spaghetti on her plate.

"No. I don't know what to say," I mumbled. I had fettucine sitting on my plate, and Beatrice—sitting next to me—had chicken parmesan.

"They would be so happy to hear from you. I promise. You know, Brandon's birthday is next week. Patricia would be there too."

"I haven't even met his wife," I murmured. She glanced at me and cleared her throat.

"I'm sorry if I'm overstepping," she winced. Dad turned towards her, but she waved him off. Beatrice glanced at me to give me a smile of encouragement.

"No, you're not. I'll text him right now," I pulled my phone out of my back pocket and held it in front of me. I copied the number from my mom's text and pulled up a new message.

Hey, Scott. It's Noah. Could we talk sometime?

"See?" I pointed the phone towards my mother. Not two seconds after I sent the text, my phone buzzed in my hand. My mom giggled and met my eyes quickly. I turned my phone to face me and paled in surprise. "I'm, uh...I'm going to take this."

"Do you want me to come with?" Beatrice set her fork down.

"No," I kissed her on her cheek, "I'll be back."

"Okay!" She looked happy, albeit a bit nervous, and struck up conversation with my mother. I took a deep breath and exhaled.

"Hello?"

"Noah? Is that really you?" I let a second of silence pass and clenched my eyes shut.

"Yeah."

"I'm thrilled to hear from you," he said a little too loud. I could hear a female voice in the background, but it grew farther away.

"Am I interrupting something? I didn't think you'd call so quick," I chuckled nervously.

"When I saw your text, I couldn't believe it! How are you? How's the club?" I raised my eyebrows in surprise that he'd even mentioned the club.

"I'm good, yeah. The club's good. I'm assuming mom has mentioned me?"

"Mentioned you? She never stops talking about you. Have you spoken to Patricia yet?"

"Nah. You're the first person I texted."

"I'm honored. Listen, I do have to get back to family game night, but you should come to Brandon's birthday party next week. Patricia and her girlfriend will be there," he said. I didn't think I could be this shocked.

"I haven't even met Brandon. And—girlfriend? I have so many questions," I told him.

"Well, come to the birthday party if you want to ask them. No, I'm just messing with you. It's really amazing to hear from you, Noah. If you need anything—anything—you let me know."

"Yeah, man. Thanks. Have a good night," I hung up and stared at my phone for a second before changing the random number on my phone to Scott. When I walked back to the booth, it was still full of conversation.

"How'd it go?" Mom immediately broke her conversation to ask.

"Good. Finish talking with Beatrice," I smiled and got into my plate. I had a feeling if I texted Patricia, she would call too. I could save that for tomorrow.

"Son," my dad quietly reached out. It hadn't been quiet enough, because the entire table stopped their conversations. "Can we talk outside for a minute?" Beatrice grabbed my hand while my mother grabbed my father's. He was assuring her that everything would be fine and stood.

I clenched my fists and followed him. I wanted to fix this, but I didn't know if I could to it with him. The phantom memory of the screaming I could hear down the street was ringing in my ears. He pushed open the main door and stepped out onto the gravel. I stood and watched him cross his arms before he turned to face me.

"I don't know if you know this," he started off quiet, "but your mother chased you down that street. She didn't want to lose you."

"It wasn't my fault," I gritted. He glanced at my eyes.

"I know. We all know. And I have no excuse for the way I acted, but I thought you should know."

"Why did you call me out here?" I crossed my arms while he uncrossed his. It looked like he couldn't physically get the words out.

"I'm sorry. I am so, so sorry because...I can't even imagine what we've put you through. When I started to go to therapy I realized how wrong I had been. We never really gave you kids a childhood, so for that—and much, much more—I'm sorry."

"Dad—"

"But I would like to rebuild our relationship. Even if you can never forgive or forget, I want to get to know you again. I..." he trailed off. He scratched his face and let his arms hang by his sides. "I love you, son."

The words I had never hear my father speak gave me the chills. In my childhood, my mother was always the one to say it.

"I love you, and you know your father does too," she would always say. I didn't know. I never knew. He had never shown me the kind of fatherly love my friends had always had. We stayed in silence for a couple of moments, and he hadn't stopped staring at me.

I took a deep breath. "I need you to put it effort. That's the first time I've ever heard you say those damn words, and it shouldn't be that way. Plus, you don't need to bring me out here to say it. You're my father. I need you to act like it," I finished.

"Done," he nodded. "Thank you for giving me a second chance. I don't know if I can make all those years up to you, but I'll try my hardest." Silence took over once more.

"I asked Beatrice to be my old lady," I told him. He glanced towards me and looked confused.

"Old lady?"

"Oh," I'd already forgotten he knew nothing about the club, "it's basically...well, the best way to describe it as biker marriage. It's for life."

"Congratulations. She seems like an amazing woman," he said happily.

"She is." I looked around at the quiet lot. A prospect, fairly new, was dozing at the tower.

"I'm going to head back in. Your mother is probably worried," dad murmured.

"I'll be there in a second." I was eyeing the prospect, pissed off that he even thought about sleeping.

"Son?"

"Hm?" I turned back to him right as I began to walk away.

"I'm really, really proud of you."

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