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My old caution surfaces, telling me that the speed of the change should make me pull back. I squash it. I don’t want to pull back, but I am confused about what’s happening to me.

I still feel wired underneath my skin every time my phone buzzes. Every time headlights pass outside. Every time Maggie’s face flashes through my mind, followed too quickly by Tom’s.

But the men seem to understand that without making it obvious. They don't push for explanations or ask me to unpack the day before I'm ready. They’re just there, before I even know I need them.

They seem to have decided amongst themselves that I don't have to carry everything by myself and aren’t fooled by my pathetic attempts to hold things together.

And weirdly, I seem to be fine with it.

The hours flash by. Torin ends up sitting cross legged on the living room floor helping Lucy draw increasingly unhinged sea creatures. She jumps ship when Briggs assembles an elaborate blanket fort that appears structurally capable of surviving mild earthquakes. Ashby has a screwdriver in his hand. He’s fixing the flickering lamp in the corner without ever being asked.

“You all act weirdly domesticated for bikers,” I tell them eventually from the couch.

Briggs glances up from securing blanket corners to dining chairs. “You expected what? Knife fights and tax fraud?”

“That sort of thing, yes.”

“We’re complicated. We have layers,” Torin says, sketching tiny sunglasses onto a shark.

Lucy shrieks with laughter, pointing at Briggs, who’s on his knees. “He’s a bear!”

Briggs nods almost proudly. “Established fact.”

“And he’s going to chase me,” she clarifies, diving inside the fort.

“If I catch you, I’ll probably eat you,” Briggs warns, lurching forward with a growl worthy of a grizzly, eliciting more excited shrieks from inside the fort.

Warmth glows in my chest as I watch this huge, mean looking biker throw himself into the game, clearly intent on making a little girl forget her missing mother for a while.

Ashby walks back into the living room carrying fresh mugs of coffee and hot chocolate. “I can’t tell whose encouraging who,” he observes, sidestepping Briggs crawling on the floor.

“Me neither, but it turns out the bear is a real softie,” I say, flicking a teasing glance at Briggs, who growls at me.

I laugh at him. “Too late. The damage to your reputation is done.”

Lucy emerges from the fort long enough to take her hot chocolate from Ashby with a polite thank you that makes feel ridiculously proud.

Torin glances up. “Yeah, Briggs, your carefully assembled cover is now completely blown.”

“This from the man drawing a hat on a shark,” Briggs counters, unfazed.

“He needs the hat to go with the shades,” Torin insists, going back to his drawing.

“How about we calm things down and watch a movie,” Ashby suggests, handing around mugs of coffee before settling into a chair himself.

“Yay!” Lucy exclaims.

The movie choice becomes a battle almost immediately.

“No Disney,” Briggs says firmly.

Lucy gasps like he suggested arson.

Torin leans back against the couch. “You just don’t understand whimsy.”

“I understand suffering.”

Ashby looks toward Lucy. “A compromise.”