When I got back to the clubhouse, I threw myself into club business with more focus than I’d had in months. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, or maybe seeing Indira had reminded me that I had responsibilities beyond my own love life.
Either way, it worked.
I spent the next week reviewing financial reports, meeting with our legal counsel about the ATF investigation, and planning security protocols for the territorial expansion. For the firsttime since I’d started talking with Indira, club business felt manageable rather than overwhelming.
The difference was that I wasn’t using it as an escape anymore. I was using it as a foundation-something solid to build on while I figured out what came next.
Thursday night, Colt knocked on my office door.
“You got a minute?”
“What’s up?”
He settled into the chair across from my desk, studying my face. “You seem... different. Since you got back from Nashville.”
“Different how?”
“Less desperate. More like yourself again, but sadder.” He paused. “What happened?”
I was starting to think I should have called church to tell all my brothers about my meeting with Indira at once, so I didn’t have to go over it again and again. But Colt deserved to hear it directly—he’d been there for the ride when I delivered that letter, had listened to me talk about her between the long highway stretches.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to figure out how to explain. “She told me she’s been dating multiple men.”
“Fuck, brother. That’s rough.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my face. “The worst part is she was so confident about it. Not apologetic, not trying to make me feel bad. Just... happy. Really, genuinely happy without me.”
“How you handling that?”
The question caught me off guard. We didn’t do this. We drank, we fought, we fucked. We didn’t sit around asking each other how we werehandlingthings.
But maybe that was changing too. Maybe I wasn’t the only one learning new ways to be.
“Badly,” I admitted. “Every time I think about her with someone else, it guts me. But what am I supposed to do? She has every right to date whoever she wants.”
Colt was quiet for a moment. “You know, a year ago, if some woman you wanted had told you she was dating other guys, you would have lost your shit.”
“A year ago, I thought love was about ownership. Now I know it’s about wanting someone to be happy, even if their happiness doesn’t include you.”
“And if she chooses one of them?”
I’d been asking myself that question all week. “Then I hope he’s good to her.”
Colt shook his head in amazement. “She really changed you.”
“No,” I said, thinking about it. “Losing her changed me. But she’s the reason I’m trying to stay changed.”
The weeks that followed were some of the hardest of my life. Indira and I continued our Sunday calls. But I knew—could feel it in my bones—that she was still actively dating other men. Still exploring her options, still figuring out what she wanted.
And I had to be okay with that.
Had to smile when she mentioned going to a concert, even though I knew it was probably with Vaughn. Had to be supportive when she talked about a nice dinner at some fancy restaurant, even though I knew he was likely the one taking her there.
Had to accept that the woman I loved was building connections with other men, and that one of them might be the one she chose in the end.
It was torture. But it was also the price of what I’d done. The cost of destroying her trust.
That night, after our Sunday call ended, I sat in the dark of my office for a long time. Then I pulled up the photo I’d takenof us at the lake, before everything went wrong. Her head on my shoulder. Both of us laughing at something I couldn’t remember.
