Driving through the small streets of Sturgis brings back so many memories. There’s no events happening this time of year,but bikes line the road as motorcycle clubs from all over the United States come through for the sights, the friendship, and the down-home cooking. The people are friendly and there are no strangers here. Everyone is treated like family and it’s one of the things I miss about living out west.
Not that far outside the city, I park the truck and walk the short path leading to my mother’s final resting place.Bear Butte Cemeterysits on top of a beautiful pine-covered hillside that brings comfort in times of sorrow. The sun is shining but there’s a chill in the air signaling the start of fall. Standing at the edge of my mother’s grave, the cool breeze rustles the leaves around my feet as I stare at the headstone bearing her name, Rainey Marie Washington, Devoted Wife and Mother.
The knot in my chest tightens as I kneel slowly, placing my hand on the cold stone where the woman with the warmest heart is buried. Sometimes, I still can’t believe she’s gone, but in times like these, when I’m feeling lost, the reality hits me that she’s no longer here.
“Mom… I don’t even know where to start,” I whisper, as tears prick at my eyes, but I blink them away, staring down at the earth that separates us. “Everything’s fallen apart. I love Silas but he lied, hid so much of himself, and it nearly broke me.” I pause as the silence presses in on me, waiting for a response I know will never come. My mind swirls with memories of my mother’s advice, the steady words that once guided me through my early teenage years when life was full of drama and stupid boys.
Now, I feel lost, drifting on a sea of doubt with no anchor. Like my father, she’d tell me that people make mistakes and that love is about seeing passed someone’s faults. The thing is, I don’t know if I have the strength in me to look beyond this.
“I thought Silas and I had a love that conquered all, but this betrayal is too much.” My voice cracks, carrying on the wind asthe tears finally spill over, trailing down my cheeks. “I was so wrong. He didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth. How am I supposed to forgive him for that?” So many questions without a single answer. “How can I belong to the very world that took you away from me?” That one question haunts me every time I consider giving Silas a chance. The path forward feels impossible.
Closing my eyes, I listen, hoping to hear my mother’s voice, just one more time. Wishing for the clarity that seems so far out of reach.
“I need you, so much, Mom,” I murmur, tracing my fingers along the letters on the headstone. “I don’t know how to move forward from the hurt. How do I let go of my anger and let my love for him invite forgiveness into my heart?” I pause again, waiting to see if the rustling leaves might bring me an answer or some other sign that she can hear me. But, the only sound is the distant hum of the world moving on, indifferent to my pain.
Walking back to the truck, the memory of my mother’s warmth steadies me, almost as if she’s here beside me. A quiet resolve settles within bringing a lightness I hadn’t felt just moments ago. Somehow, clarity has taken root on this path back and I know now what I need to do to truly find peace. The only way to start healing is to forgive Silas. Not for him, but for me. All my hurt and anger are justified, yet he was willing to face the consequences, to bear the weight of his choices without blame or excuses.
Though the road before us will be difficult, my love for him gives me the strength to begin. I’ll call him as soon as I get back home, to listen, and find out if what we shared can endure this setback.
Reaching the car, I pick up my phone to check on my dad, and maybe see if he needs anything from the store. When my screen lights up, it shows I have several missed calls fromLondyn. Before I can even call her back, my phone rings again and I answer immediately.
“Ember, thank God you picked up,” her voice breaks as if she’d been crying.
“Londyn, what’s going on?” I ask, a wave of panic washing over me.
“It’s Maverick. He’s been shot and… Ember, I’m not sure he’s going to make it.”
TWENTY-FOUR
EMBERLYNNE
“I’m notsure he’s going to make it.”Londyn’s words replay in my mind on a relentless loop. At the time, his condition was dire, but he’s doing better than expected. In less than thirty minutes I’ll be landing in Atlanta, hoping and praying that nothing has changed. There were no flights leaving Sturgis until today and I’ve been a wreck since the news. Malcolm kept me updated on Silas’s condition until I boarded the plane, and that eased some of my worry. Silas was shot twice and miraculously, no major organs were hit.
Still, he’s in bad shape because of the bullet in his chest. The impact collapsed his lung and he’s having trouble breathing. They removed the bullets, but the doctors are still determining the best treatment for his lung. That was the last update before having to put away my phone.
My hands grip the armrests tightly, the steady hum of the engine doing little to calm my pounding heart or the guilt pressing down on me. I had a chance to talk to Silas, to make things right and I let it slip through my fingers. Now, with every mile, I draw closer to the possibility of never getting that chance again. His prognosis is optimistic, but as the doctorwarned, things can go wrong with injuries like this, especially two gunshot wounds. The next few days are critical.
As I stare out the window at the city slowly coming into view, my heart aches over all the things I wish I could undo. I would give anything to turn back the hands of time and listen to his words just to hear his voice again. I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I need to be there for Silas, just as he was there for me. This is my wake-up call that life is short and if there’s even a chance for us to work through this, I have to take it.
Malcolm, no, Nightmare, I remind myself, was supposed to pick me up from the airport and take me toGrady Memorial Hospitalwhere Silas is being treated. However, when I reach baggage claim, I spot Londyn by the carousel, her eyes scanning the crowd until they find me. She gives a small, hesitant wave, and I walk over, surprised but oddly relieved to see her.
“Hey,” she says, nervously twirling a lock of her hair. “Thanks for… letting me pick you up.”
I raise an eyebrow, grabbing my bags off the conveyor. “Actually, I thought Malcolm, I’m sorry, Nightmare was picking me up,” I reply. Her face shifts from surprise to realization, and then a knowing smile. Clearly, he orchestrated this to get us talking.
“It’s okay, Londyn. I’m glad you’re here,” I add softly.
“You are?” She asks, clearly taken aback.
“I know what I said on the phone and I meant it, but… I’ve missed you. I’ve missed our friendship.”
“Ember, I’m so sorry,” she says, her voice thick with regret. “I know I’ve apologized, but I really mean it. I should’ve been honest with you.”
As we head toward the parking ramp, I let her words sink in. “When you called to tell me about Silas, it hit me how much time I’ve wasted being angry.”
The noise of the airport swirls around us; cars honking, people rushing by… but it all fades as we walk side-by-side. When we finally reach the car, Londyn speaks again, her voice trembling slightly.
“You had every right to be angry,” she admits. “I should’ve told you about being in the club from the beginning.”
