Glitch smiled, the kind of smile that said he was genuinely impressed. “Well, fuck. You really have changed.”
He turned his attention back to the letter, and we spent the next hour going through it line by line.
The final version was one page. Typed, not handwritten, because my handwriting looked like a drunk toddler had gotten hold of a pen. I printed it out, and my hands shook slightly as I folded it into the envelope. I’d gone through a dozen drafts, each one peeling back another layer of armor until I’d found the words that felt true. No excuses, no manipulation, no pressure. Just an acknowledgment of what I’d done wrong and a wish for her happiness.
I signed itJacob.
Glitch read the final version and nodded. “This works. It’s clean, it’s honest, and it doesn’t put any pressure on her.”
“You think she’ll read it?”
“Yeah, I do. Whether she responds is another question entirely.”
The next morning, I packed a bag and headed east. I could have mailed the letter—would have been a hell of a lot easier—but this felt like something I needed to do personally. Take responsibility for my actions instead of hiding behind intermediaries.
I wasn’t going alone. When I’d mentioned to Colt that I was heading to Tennessee, he’d raised an eyebrow and asked if I wanted company. Didn’t push for details, didn’t ask why—justoffered to ride along. That was Colt. He’d been through his own shit, understood that sometimes a man needed to do something without explaining himself.
“We’ve been talking about scouting locations for a new chapter anyway,” he’d said. “Might as well make it productive. Hit some cities on the way, see what the territory looks like.”
It was a good cover, and it was also true. The club had been kicking around the idea of expanding east for years. Having two officers scout potential locations made the trip legitimate club business, not just their president chasing his ex across the country.
Oregon to Tennessee. Twenty-four hundred miles, give or take. Five days if we pushed it, which we would. Ten day round trip.
I knew it wasn’t great timing. I’d just gotten back from three months away, and here I was taking off again. But with Colt riding alongside me and both of us checking in regularly with the club, it didn’t feel like abandonment. It wasn’t the first time the president and VP had taken off together—we’d done runs like this before, scouting new territory, meeting with other chapters, handling business that needed to be done by the officer level. The brothers knew the drill. And with Holden stepping up, I had someone I trusted to keep things running smooth while we were gone. He’d proven himself solid over the years, had a good head for logistics and an even better one for keeping the younger members in line.
We had our Bluetooth headsets synced, taking calls from Holden about club business, checking in with Glitch about security contracts. This wasn’t me disappearing into a bottle like I had before. This was club business with a personal errand attached.
The first day took us across Oregon and into Idaho, fighting a headwind that made every mile feel like two. We stopped for thenight at a truck stop motel outside Boise, the kind of place where no one asked questions and the sheets smelled like industrial detergent. Over beers in the parking lot, Colt finally asked.
“So what’s in Nashville?”
“Indira.” I pulled the envelope from my jacket pocket. “Wrote her a letter.”
He nodded slowly, no judgment in his expression. “You trying to get her back?”
“No. Just trying to tell her the truth. What happens after that is up to her.”
Colt was quiet for a moment, staring out at the highway. “That’s more than I ever did,” he said finally. “When my marriage fell apart, I just... let it go. Never chased after her. Never tried to find her. Get her back.” He took a long pull of his beer. “Always wondered what would have happened if I had.”
“Maybe it’s not too late.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “Nah, brother. Some bridges burn too long to rebuild. But you?” He nodded at the envelope. “You might still have a chance. Don’t fuck it up.”
Day two took us through Wyoming. Endless high plains and a sky so big it made me feel small in a way I wasn’t used to. I’d spent my whole life being the biggest thing in every room, and out here I was just another speck on the highway. Maybe that was good for me. Somewhere in those high plains, I caught myself going over what I’d written.I understand now why you left.Did I? Did I really understand, or was I still making excuses dressed up as accountability? Colt and I stopped in Cheyenne to meet with a local who’d expressed interest in prospecting for a potential eastern chapter. Promising conversation, good territory.
Day three we made it to Nebraska, then pushed through to Iowa before our asses gave out. Another anonymous motel, another night of beers and surprisingly honest conversation.Colt talked about his ex-wife, about the good times they’d had before it all fell apart. I listened, recognizing how much MC life fucked with our old ladies, their wants and needs.
That night, lying in another strange bed, I pulled out the envelope and stared at it. One page. Everything I should have said months ago, compressed into a few hundred words. It felt pathetically small against the weight of what I’d done.
Day four took us through Missouri and into the hills of Kentucky. The roads got twistier, greener, reminding me of the run I’d taken a few months back. That trip had been about escaping. This one was about facing what I’d done. Riding through the hills reminded me of that first trip we’d taken together—Indira pressed against my back, her arms around my waist, laughing at something I’d said. I’d felt invincible then. Now I just felt the ghost of her weight behind me. We stopped in Louisville to check out a bar that might work as a clubhouse location, talked to some locals about the MC scene in the area.
On the fifth day, we rolled into Nashville just after noon. My back was killing me, my hands were cramped from gripping the handlebars, and I hadn’t slept more than five hours any night of the trip. But I was here.
Colt pulled up beside me at a gas station on the outskirts of the city. “You want me to come with you?”
“Nah. This part I need to do alone.”
He nodded. “I’ll grab lunch somewhere, scout around. Text me when you’re done.”
