“That makes sense.” Haizley looked at her phone. “I’m sorry. That’s all the time we have for today. You still want to meet twice a week?”
I thought about it for a moment, then nodded. Telling myself I was helping Haizley to keep her mind off what happened. I wasn’t ready to admit that talking helped.
I skipped my next appointment. And the one after that. Haizley hadn’t told King about the missed appointments, and I had to wonder why.
A lot of shit had happened since that last appointment when I talked about Rachel. Gunner’s sister, Mellie, showed up with Pippen and Sypher’s kid. Ghost left the club, well threatened to anyway. Took off his cut and left it in church.
When he asked me if I would give up the club for Rachel, I didn’t hesitate to say no. The answer would have been the same even before she died. Maybe she was right. Maybe I didn’t love her the way I should have.
Instead of seeing Haizley, I went for a ride. I needed to clear my head. Nothing cleared out the cobwebs like a ride. My bike thrummed beneath me as I cruised through town. When I got out on the interstate, I opened her up.
Instead of talking, I spent the hour thinking. I rode up the path to Lookout Mountain. Rachel had shown it to me. She and the others used to come up here to get away when they were kids. I hadn’t been up here since she died. It was another one of those places I had a hard time facing. I sat on my bike and watched the town below.
It was peaceful here.
Quiet.
Blade knew what he was doing when he suggested Diamond Creek. The open roads were made for riding. And the mountains were made for thinking.
Rachel’s birthday had just passed. I spent the day drunk. I had planned to finally propose after five years of being together.
I assumed she would have said yes. But maybe she wouldn’t. She never pestered me about getting married. Never brought it up. And I never gave it much thought.
Figured she was just happy with the way things were.
Now I knew why. It wasn’t because she was happy just being my old lady. She knew she wouldn’t be here.
“Fuck you, Rachel,” I mumbled. “Fuck you for not telling me. And fuck you for not trusting me.”
I swung my leg over my bike and walked to the edge. The drop was steep. No one would survive a drop like that. But then no one other than the club really knew about this place.
I wasn’t suicidal. I never considered throwing myself over the edge in grief. My mind just always wondered, what if?
Grief was a funny thing. When the doctor came out and told me she was gone, I thought my life had ended. I didn’t know how I would go on without her. And then he said Ryder was her fucking next of kin.
I was her old man, dammit! He was no one.
He was her family.
“I was your fucking family!” I shouted.
Were you?
I crouched down and held my head in my hands. I wanted to kick his ass.
It wasn’t his fault.
“Ryder should have known. If he was so fucking important to you, then he should have known something was fucking wrong.”
I heard the rumble of a bike and wondered who had followed me. Fucking prospects. I didn’t stand or look behind me. I stayed crouched on the edge of the mountain; my eyes focused on the horizon in front of me.
When the engine cut, I stood ready to cuss out whoever had followed me up here. I wanted to be alone.
When I turned around, my eyes went wide. Parked on the grass was a Softail Deluxe and it was fucking purple. Sitting on the bike was a kid with pink hair and tattoos.
She didn’t look old enough to be out on her own, let alone riding a Harley.
“Your mother know you’re out here alone?”
