She studies me, searching for something more.
“I still don’t expect anything from you,” I add. “I just needed you to know.”
And before I can second-guess myself, before I can stay and watch the hope twist into fear on her face, I turn and walk away.
The engine roars to life beneath me, it’s familiar and grounding. I ride without thinking, letting the road stretch out and blur. Wind tears past my helmet, the cold biting through my jacket, but it helps. It strips everything down to speed and breath and the thud of my heart.
My head is still spinning.
That movement. That tiny, undeniable proof of life.
Mine.
I take a turn, then another, until the town disappears behind me and the road climbs. When I finally stop, the bike ticks beneath me as it cools, the sound sharp in the silence.
I climb the hill on foot, legs burning, lungs protesting, until I reach the top.
The view opens up to fields, sky, space. Perspective.
I drop onto the grass and rest my elbows on my knees, staring out at a life I suddenly don’t recognise. And maybe that’s the point.
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial.
Diesel answers on the second ring. “Pres?”
“I need you to listen,” I say firmly.
He pauses. “Go on.”
“I’m stepping down,” I tell him.
My words are met with silence.
“Say that again,” he finally mutters.
“I’m stepping down as President,” I repeat. “I need to focus on Eden and the baby. Properly. I can’t half-ass this and still run the club.”
“Kade—”
“I’m serious,” I cut in. “I want you to hold a Zoom meeting tonight for church. I’ll tell the brothers myself.”
“Jesus Christ,” he breathes. “Look, at least let’s say you’re stepping down temporarily. You can’t make such a massive decision like this when you’re feeling a lot. And you certainly can’t just drop that over Zoom and run.”
“I’ve never felt clearer on anything, D.” I look out over the land, my heart feeling light for the first time in years.
“You’re dealing with a lot,” he says, “and I respect your wishes. But you’re making big decisions on a broken heart. Pres, we can give you a break. Hell, things are running good from this end, so take as long as you need, but don’t say it’s forever. The club needs you.”
“Okay. I’ll say temporarily for now.”
I end the call and sit there for a long moment, the weight of the decision settling into my bones.
For the first time in months, the guilt eases. For the first time in my life, I’m not choosing the club. I’m choosing my child. I’m choosing Eden.
Jan is locking up the centre when I slow my bike outside. The engine cuts and the sudden quiet feels loud again.
She looks over and smiles when I pull off my helmet.
“I hope you enjoyed the class this morning,” she says, walking towards me.
