Unbeloved (Undeniable #4)(52)

So then, what was left? He couldn’t very well rejoin the reserves, not at his age and with his record. All he had was the club. It was all he knew at this point.

“The club.” Jase nodded slowly. “I ain’t got nothin’ else.”

His father frowned at him, not that the man wasn’t already frowning at him to begin with. In fact, all his father had done since his arrival was frown and shake his head while grumbling under his breath.

“You know what they say about makin’ the same mistake over and over again, and thinkin’ it’s gonna be different this time?”

“No, Dad.” Jase sighed. “What do they say?”

“They say it’s damn crazy, is what they say!”

Jase scrubbed his gloved hand across his jaw. “Then what, Dad? What the f*ck do you think I should do?”

“No!” Walter shot back. “What the f*ck do YOU think you should do? You’re a grown man, son, not a little boy. And it’s time you start actin’ like it.”

Jase knew his father was right, was dead f*cking right, but still, hearing the man say it, call him out on his bullshit point-blank . . . didn’t feel so good.

“Get a job?” Jase suggested with a limp shrug of his shoulder. He really didn’t know what his father expected of him. How could he leave the club? Leave Deuce and the boys? It wasn’t computing in his head.

“You’re gettin’ warmer,” Walter said with a sigh. “Get a job where?”

Jase stared at the older man, utterly perplexed. “Anywhere?”

His father, despite the man’s love of calling people out on their wrongdoings, had always been a fairly even-tempered guy. So when he suddenly lurched forward and grabbed the collar of Jase’s jacket, using it to wrench him forward, Jase was shocked speechless.

“What do you want most in the damn world?” Walter gritted out, his breath smelling of the butterscotch candies he’d always loved.

“More than anything else,” he continued, tightening his grip on Jase’s collar. “What do you want from this life you’re so quick to give up? ’Cause you aren’t gonna get another one. There are no second chances once you’ve closed those eyes for the last damn time. So I’m gonna ask you again, Jason, what do you damn well want?”

Jase’s thoughts went wild, spinning around before fanning out in a mad scramble. What did he want? What the f*ck did he want? What did he really truly want more than anything?

He didn’t have to think about it for very long.

“I want my girls,” he said quietly. “I want my kids back.”

“And how you gonna make that happen?” Walter asked.

Jase didn’t know how he was going to make that happen, but he knew one thing for certain. As long as he was a Hell’s Horseman, his girls would have nothing to do with him.

“I gotta leave the club,” he whispered, dropping his gaze to the snow-covered lawn. “Get a job, somewhere near the girls, maybe.”

When his father didn’t readily respond, Jase glanced up to find the old man smiling at him. It was a satisfied smile, and one that Jase had never seen before. Correction, it was a look that Jase had never seen directed at him before.

“You’ve always been a good mechanic,” Walter said, releasing him. Bending down with a grunt, his father grabbed the handle of the ax and swung it up over his shoulder.

Then, in typical Walter Brady fashion, without another word he turned around and walked away, leaving Jase standing there alone with his thoughts, staring off across his parents’ acreage, feeling as empty and as cold as his surroundings.

The very thought of leaving the club left him with a fear he’d never felt before. When everyone else had left, the club had always been there. It was his foundation. His safe place. His whole world.

And maybe that was his biggest problem. The club was his crutch, the one place he could hide from the mess he’d made of his life.

He swallowed back a wave of sickness that had nothing to do with his detoxing body and everything to do with the fear of living outside the club. He’d be a regular joe. No band of brothers, be it military or motorcycle club, to tell him what to do, or catch him when he fell flat on his face. And he always did fall flat on his damn face.

But his girls . . . Without them, what was he?

As far as he could see, without them he wasn’t worth a damn.

“Uncle Jason! Uncle Jason!”

Jase turned, barely having time to jump out of the way as his niece and nephew came barreling through the snow, nearly waist deep on them both. They were wearing matching pink and blue snowsuits that made them look like tiny colorful marshmallows.

“Build a snowman with us!” the girl yelled as they ran past him. Jase tried to smile at them, but failed. Neither child had ever met him before, yet they’d instantly accepted him as their uncle. It only deepened his yearning to be reunited with his own children, who wouldn’t be nearly as accepting, if at all.

His younger brother, Michael, who’d been quickly following his children, paused beside Jase with a smile on his face. Of course he was smiling at him. Michael was a Brady, and Bradys loved their family despite their faults.

“How’s it going, big brother?” he asked, knocking Jase softly on the shoulder with his fist.

Brother.