I had seen the way Ghost and Melissa held each other—arms knotted close, laughter spilling into quiet corners, a tenderness that colored their every glance. Even as an outsider looking in, even in those brief interludes, I realized their connection was undeniable. Sinclair’s harsh ultimatum slashed through that happiness with surgical precision, leaving a wound I doubted could ever close. The joy I’d observed felt suddenly fragile, as if the echo of Sinclair’s voice had set everything trembling on the edge of collapse.
As we soared westward, a tangled wave of anger and sorrow broke over me. Sinclair’s cold authority echoed in my mind, and I despised him for the chill he’d brought into that home—the way he wielded control like a blade, slicing through the bonds that held this family together. The grief on Melissa’s face, the hollow sound of Ghost’s silence beside me, the absence that settled into the house the moment we left—those were things I would not forget. I gripped the yoke a little tighter, wishing the sky would open up and swallow the memory whole, but knowing some wounds lingered unresolved, no matter how far we flew.
Ghost and Melissa’s love was unmistakable—a deep, enduring flame that shone even in moments of heartbreak. I had seen it in every quiet embrace, every gentle touch, the waytheir laughter softened the edges of their world. I feared, though, that Sinclair’s ultimatum had fractured something irreparable. The ache in my chest was not just for them, but for the hope that happiness might have survived the cold front he’d brought down.
Ghost broke the hush, voice rough like gravel. “Hey, Rowen, do me a solid, yeah?”
“Sure.”
Ghost fiddled with the edge of his seat, lips twitching with memory. “Just... try to go easy on Mellie for me, alright? She’s got a bite, but, man, she loves so damn hard it hurts. All in, no halfway.”
“I can do that.”
Ghost flashed a crooked smile. “Appreciate it.”
He let out a long sigh, shoulders slumping against the cockpit wall. “Coulda walked away earlier, you know? Should’ve just cut and run before things got messy.”
My reply was quiet, cautious. “Why didn’t you?”
Ghost shook his head, eyes clouded. “Man, leaving the club ain’t just dropping a cut—it’s leaving family, leaving history. This cut on my back—it’s blood and loyalty. I gave it up for Mellie once. She hated the whole damn scene—patches, parties, all the trouble. Only way to keep her was to turn my back on my brothers. That’s no small thing.”
I nodded, voice hoarse. “So, what changed?”
Ghost laughed, a short, hollow sound. “Mellie did. She’s stubborn as a mule, got a mouth on her, and she’ll argue with the damn wind. But she wouldn’t let me go through with it. Said my club was part of me, like my own skin. She wanted me as I am, not some ghost of myself—pun intended.”
I gave a faint smirk. “Women make no sense.”
“Got that right.” Ghost nodded. “I quickly learned that it’s best just to let Mellie tell me what I want and don’t want. My life is easier that way.”
“Then why agree to Sinclair’s demands?”
“Because I have to be there. I know that, and Mellie does too. She told me to go, even though it broke something inside her to say the words,” Ghost admitted, mouth twisting. “She told me not to give up my club.”
My words were soft and careful. “That’s tough.”
Ghost nodded, rubbing his jaw. “Story of my life these days—love her enough to walk away from everything, and somehow, still lose half of what matters. But I reckon that’s just how it goes.”
I sat quietly for a moment, eyes on the darkness outside the window. “Yeah.”
For a while, there was nothing but the hum of the engines. The weight of choices and losses settled close, but in that quiet, the air felt easier, like we both understood without saying more.
We flew into Albin, Wyoming, a few hours later. The dusty wind swept across the empty tarmac, rattling loose gravel as I stepped onto the cracked pavement beside Ghost’s bike. Ghost scanned the lot and let out a relieved breath. “Damn, thought I’d have to call a cab or something. Glad my bike is still here.”
Standing next to him, I fumbled for words. We couldn’t have been more different, but something had shifted. Despite our differences, hearing him talk about Melissa made me realize we both carried the same kind of hope—trying to cling to what mattered when life got rough. I remembered the way he spoke about not letting go, about love and loss, and I saw pieces of myself in him that I hadn’t expected.
I reached out my hand. “It was nice getting to know you, Ghost. The next time we see each other, beers are on me.”
Ghost grinned, his handshake solid. “Back at ya, brother.”
He let go, rummaged in his cut, then held out two envelopes. “Got one more thing. If things go tits up, mind passing these along for me?”
I took the envelopes, one addressed to Tucker Foley in Deadwood, South Dakota, the other to Melissa. The names felt heavy, like a promise I hoped I wouldn’t have to keep.
Ghost shrugged, voice low. “Learned the hard way—you gotta be ready for anything life throws at ya. If shit goes sideways, I’d appreciate it if you made sure those get where they need to go.”
I tucked the envelopes carefully into my jacket, the weight of them a silent anchor. Ghost met my eyes, and for a beat, the noise of the world faded away. “You can count on me,” I said, meaning it more than I’d expected.
Swinging his leg over his motorcycle, he smiled. “Well, I’d better get going. You take care and don’t forget to be nice to Mellie for me.”
