“Can I get your number?” I ask, but she’s already hustling toward a small silver SUV.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I let her go, sad she wouldn’t stay and talk longer. Perhaps it’s the cut I wear. She wouldn’t be the first woman who wanted nothing to do with me once she found out about the MC.
Something makes me get her license plate and tap it into my phone. It’s not much, but maybe our tech guy can track her down for me when I get to California. I’d like to at least keep in contact with her and make sure she and Ryan’s little boy are all right. I owe Ryan, and it’s the least I can do.
The sun is sinking, and the sky is turning orange and purple. My attention returns to Ryan’s grave. I dig a quarter out of my hip pocket, squat down, and leave the coin on the stone.
“Miss you, buddy. I’m so sorry. You should be here. I should have been the one there in your place that day. It shoulda been me.”
Glancing back, I see Heather pulling out onto the highway and accelerating quickly.
I’ve crossed paths with this girl twice in the space of a week. If there’s one thing I firmly believe, there are no coincidences.
“Did you put me on that bridge that day, Ryan? Did you make me later than the rest of the group, so I’d be there at that exact moment and stop her?”
A strong wind blows through the trees nearby and gusts over me, ruffling my hair.
Straightening, I stare at the gravestone. “It should have been me, Ryan. If only I hadn’t been late that day, you’d be here with your wife and son. I’m so sorry, buddy.”
CHAPTER THREE
Heather—
When I pick up Tucker, he’s excitedly jabbering away about his day with my sister.
“Aunt Abby and me watched a movie called Lion King. Have you ever seen it, Mom?”
“Of course.”
“Why haven’t we watched it before?”
“I don’t know. I guess we never got around to it.”
“Simba’s dad dies in the movie, just like mine.”
I meet his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Did that make you sad?”
“Yeah.” He stares out the window at the darkening skies. “But I still liked the movie.”
“Maybe we could watch it together. Would you like that?”
He nods.
“Okay. Maybe this weekend.”
“You won’t have to work?”
I hate that work takes so much time away from him, but it pays the bills. At least he doesn’t know what I do. He thinks I’m a waitress. He doesn’t know that his mom is a stripper, and I hope he never finds out.
Three hours later, I’ve fed, bathed, and put Tucker to bed. Pouring myself a sweet tea, I spread my notebooks and laptop on the dining room table and get to work. I’ve only got two classes left before I get my associates degree in accounting. Once I do,I hope to be able to land a bookkeeping job or a job as a tax preparer, and maybe someday work toward getting my CPA.
The money won’t be nearly as much as I make right now, but at least it will get me out of the nightclubs and into a nine-to-five job and give me so much more time with my son.
I’ve got the night off, so I plan to take advantage and get caught up on my assignments.
At half-past eleven, there’s a knock. I glance toward the apartment door.
Please don’t be Snake. Please don’t be Snake.
