“Nah, the club needs you here.”
“The club can get by without me for a couple of weeks. It’s been a long time since you’ve been home, Chaos, and from the sound of it, your brother and stepdad aren’t going down without a fight.”
“Yeah, neither is Willa’s father.” After learning what he did to the cattle and how he threatened Willa with her mother’s death, I finally see him for who he is.
A man worse than my stepfather, which I didn’t think was possible.
“If anything goes down, I’ll ride out. Doesn’t matter when.”
“I appreciate it.” And I do.
Soul isn’t offering for the same reasons Steel was. This isn’t about the club’s protection, even if he would stand at my side and take a bullet for me if it came down to it. This is friendship. Something that makes us brothers beyond the patch.
No one quite understands me like Soul does. Even when our brothers were single, there was always this line. They were on one side, and we were on the other. A little too reckless. Always getting into trouble.
Numbing our demons with the same kinds of medicine.
Trying to outrun our pasts through any means necessary.
When I got locked up, Soul was the one who visited every week. He reminded me what I was fighting for. When shit goes down, he’s the one always standingbeside me, good or bad. Which is why I don’t blame him when he asks—
“You coming back?”
I take a deep breath, staring at the picture on the wall of church that reminds me of my first ride with the club as road captain. It was a quick run up North to deliver product to the crew operating out of Portland. The roads were so slick I almost died.
Still, it was one of the best trips of my life. I was happy to be alive.
Happy to be a part of something.
A family unlike the one I left after Mom’s and Grandpa’s deaths.
“I’ll be back,” I say finally, knowing there is no me without the club, and hoping I can help Willa understand that. “I just don’t know how that looks anymore.”
He nods, lifting from his chair. Walking past, he slaps me on the shoulder. “Safe travels then, brother.”
For the first time since leaving Texas twelve years ago, I feel like I’m saying goodbye.
“You’re still here.” Grandpa stops at the railing beside me with his coffee in hand.
The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, but the sky is already starting to melt into a canvas of color.
“Who said I’m leaving?” I glance at Grandpa, who hitches an eyebrow as he takes a sip.
When he lowers his mug to the railing, he’s no longer looking at me. His gaze is on the ranch stretched out before us. On the brink of coming to life for the day.
This is my favorite time to be out here because the world hasn’t woken up yet. My problems haven’t woken up yet. Everything is just…
Quiet.
“I know you, boy,” Grandpa huffs out. “You were always leaving the second you graduated, even before your mom passed, God rest her soul.”
He bows his head, hiding the grief that flooded his eyes at the mention of his daughter. And I look away, not able to face that pain. It’s the only way I’m still holding it together. It’s why I can’t be around my brother either.
Kincaid has her eyes.
Her nose.
Everything around this place reminds me of her.
