“You’ll see. Come on.”
I grab my helmet and cross to where my Softail waits, purple paint gleaming in the sunlight. I haven’t ridden in months. Ashmade me promise to stay off bikes once I started showing, worried about the baby.
But Jackal asked, and I can’t say no to him. Not after everything.
I swing my leg over and fire up the engine. The rumble feels like coming home.
Jackal grins. “Don’t tell Ash I’m corrupting his pregnant wife.”
“Don’t tell Ash a lot of things.”
“Fair enough.”
He pulls out of the lot, and I follow, keeping pace as we hit the highway. Wind whips against my face. My stomach presses against the tank. The baby shifts inside me like she’s excited too.
We ride for thirty minutes, leaving the city behind. Jackal takes an exit I recognize immediately, and my throat tightens.
He’s bringing me to our spot.
Ten more minutes down back roads, and we pull off onto a dirt path that leads to a clearing overlooking the valley. This is where we used to come as kids before Dad got too paranoid to let me leave the compound. Before Jackal got patched and the club became his whole world.
We park our bikes and kill the engines. Silence settles over us except for birds and wind through the trees.
“I forgot how beautiful it is up here,” I say.
Jackal pulls off his helmet. “Yeah. Me too.”
We walk to the edge of the clearing, where a fallen log makes a natural bench. I sit, and Jackal drops down beside me. The valley spreads below us. Green and gold and peaceful.
“Remember when you broke your arm up here?” he asks.
“I was nine. You dared me to climb that tree.” I point to the massive oak behind us.
“And you did it. Got halfway up before the branch snapped.”
“You carried me back to your bike and drove me to the hospital with one hand because the other was holding me steady.”
“Dad wanted to kill me.”
“You told him it was your fault. That I didn’t want to climb, but you made me do it.”
Jackal shrugs. “It was my fault. I should have known better.”
“I would have climbed it whether you dared me or not. I was a stubborn little shit.”
“Still are.”
I laugh. He’s not wrong.
We sit in comfortable silence for a while. Watching clouds drift across the sky. Listening to the world breathe around us.
“So,” Jackal says finally. “You and three of my best friends.”
Here it comes. The conversation I’ve been dreading since the church meeting.
“Yeah.”
“That’s…unconventional.”
