Idon’t remember much of the first few days after the accident. I was extremely sore, and my chest had a nasty bruise from the seat belt; but, I didn’t have any other injuries—not physically anyway.
While I laid on the couch in a complete daze, my grandfather hired an attorney for me, deactivated my social media accounts, and turned my phone off for a few days.
But some of his efforts were too late. I’d already seen the comments about me on social media.
“Piece of shit was probably drunk or on drugs.”
“I hope he rots in hell.”
“Those babies will grow up without their father thanks to this asshole.”
“It was intentional. He was targeting a police officer.”
“Cop killer.”
I refused to see or talk to anyone except Gramps, my lawyer, and the police officers working on the case. I didn’t know what to do. How do you continue on with your life after something like that? I knew there was nothing I could do to change it, to make it right, but I needed to do something.
“Gramps,” I called from the entryway to the kitchen. He whirled around, surprised to see me off the couch. “I want to go talk to her.”
His face fell as he shook his head. “You can’t, Kellan, and you know that.”
“How can I not say anything to her?” I yelled. “I killed her husband. I should at least fucking say I’m sorry.”
“That’s not how this works, Kellan. You can’t contact her right now, or ever for that matter. And, honestly, how do you think she would react to hearing your apology? Do you think she wants to talk to you? Because I sure as shit don’t. No, you need to let her be and focus on dealing with your own issues,” Gramps said firmly.
“Can I at least send some fucking flowers to the funeral home?” I asked with unnecessary venom.
“Yes, you can if you do it anonymously. And check your attitude, boy. I’m on your side.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose and dropped my head. “I’m sorry, Gramps. I just don’t know how to handle any of this. I know what it’s like to lose a parent, and it kills me that I did that to those kids,” I confessed.
“I wish I had some words of wisdom for you, but the fact of the matter is, there isn’t anything you or I can do to make this better. Not right away. Just like when you lost your parents, it’s going to take time for the hurt to lessen, but it’s never going to go away completely.”
* * *
Six Months Later
“Kellan,”my grandfather called. “Come have a seat, boy. We need to have a talk.”
I knew what he wanted to talk about. We’d had the same discussion a number of times in the last few months. But, he was all I had for family, and I loved and respected him. So, I sat down and listened.
“I’ll keep this short since we’ve been down this road several times now. I had lunch with Ranger last week, and we talked about you and your situation. He called today and said you’ve got an hour to get your ass over to the Blackwings MC clubhouse. You start prospecting for them tonight.”
Was he serious? “I’m sorry, Gramps. What was that?”
“Phoenix Black is the President. He’s expecting you. When you arrive at the gate, tell them who you are, and they’ll direct you to him,” he continued.
“Gramps—” I started.
“This isn’t an option, Kellan. You’re going over there, and you’re going to put on that leather vest. I will not sit idly by and watch you guilt yourself into an early grave. I’ve already buried my wife, my daughter, and my son-in-law much earlier than I should have; I won’t add you to that list. Even if I have to strap you to the roof of my truck and drive you over there myself, you will do this,” he said vehemently.
I’d never seen Gramps so worked up. He rarely, if ever, got angry or raised his voice. I was so shocked by his outburst that I didn’t even attempt to argue with him.
“Yes, sir. I’ll get changed and head over there.”
* * *
Gramps was right;joining the MC was the best thing for me. He knew I was spiraling downhill fast. Who wouldn’t be? The guilt I felt about the accident was slowly consuming me.
