CHAPTER ONE
Cody—
Leaving the bridge behind, I head toward Birmingham, knowing I’ll catch up to the rest of my brothers.
We rode from California to visit Brayden, who transferred out here to be with the Birmingham chapter’s president’s daughter, Rebel. It’s been great to see him again.
His father, our president, Cole, as well as his brother, TJ came out, along with our VP, Crash, Shane, my father, Jake, and myself. The six of us had quite the road trip, and we’ve had the time of our lives along the way.
Last night, we rode up to Tennessee to see the club’s new chapter location. The club has been talking about expanding into that state for some time, ever since other clubs caused trouble in the area. Rather than let them get a foothold, we made a move and took the state.
I’m twenty minutes behind the rest of the group heading back because I had to change a plug, but I catch up to them when we all stop in Warrior, Alabama to gas up.
“What took you so long?” my father asks, walking up to me when I roll up to the pumps.
I tell him about the girl, and he lays a hand on my shoulder.
“You did good, son. You saved a damn life today. When we get back to the clubhouse, I’m buying you a drink.”
He tells the rest of the group, and they all give me a pat on the back.
“You want to know the weirdest part?” I ask TJ and Brayden when the older guys walk inside the convenience store.
“What’s that?”
“I swear to God, she looked familiar. I can’t for the life of me figure out why.”
“Ever been up this way?” Brayden asks.
“Never,” I say.
TJ shrugs. “Well, whoever she is, hopefully she gets the help she needs.”
“Amen to that,” I mutter.
“How long are you guys staying in town?” Brayden asks. “Dad wouldn’t say.”
“The way I heard it, we’re staying another week so we’ll be here for your birthday, little brother.
” TJ throws his arm around Brayden. “Dad misses you more than he lets on, and I hate to ruin the surprise, but Mom is going to fly in next weekend for the party. You did not hear that from me. Got it?”
Brayden lights up at the mention of his ma. “Got it. That’s great. Really.” He almost sounds choked up a little, and I realize how hard this move must have been for him. He left everyone for this girl. His family, his brothers, his home.
“How’s the transition been?” I ask.
“The South is nothing like California, but I’m getting used to it. The food is great, and people are so laid-back and friendly. They’ll stop to help you, and they’ll say hello and give you a smile. Hell, in Cali, people barely acknowledge each other.”
TJ chuckles. “That’s the truth.”
“How’s Rebel?” I ask.
“Great. She’s happy, and the garage is doing great. What’s new back in Cali?”
“Fiona opened a cupcake shop, and she’s with a brother out of the Nevada chapter. He’s in San Jose now, so you’re not the only one switching chapters for a damn chick.”
Brayden chuckles. “Guess not.”
Soon we’re back on the road, and an hour later we roll into the clubhouse.
The place is small with barely any extra rooms, so we all get rooms at a motel in town.
Some of the guys who’ve been in the club longer than me were here the last time the club came out, and they remember cleaning up after a tornado had devastated the neighborhood.
When we pull back in, the grills are going and something smells great. Walking inside, girls have got us a spread laid out, mountains of food waiting. We fill our plates and eat.
I’m beat at the end of the night, and when we get back to the motel, I fall face down on the mattress, exhaustion winning out.
We spend another week in town, and Angel flies in for Brayden’s birthday party.
Cole takes her to the airport the next day after a teary goodbye with her son. While they do that, I plan to make one trip before we leave tomorrow for the long ride to San Jose.
Heading to my bike, TJ whistles, bringing my head around.
“Yeah?”
“Bro, where you goin’?”
“Huntsville.”
“Huntsville? What the fuck for?”
“Got somethin’ I gotta do.”
“Cryptic son-of-a-bitch. What’s the big secret?”
I shake my head and keep walking.
After a two-hour ride, I pull into the turnoff for the cemetery. The place is old, with low stone walls and giant trees. It’s a pretty place. I roll slowly to a stop at the office and get directions to the grave I came to visit.
All the combat medic training I’d had in the Army couldn’t save my best friend.
It had always been my intention to make it into the 82nd Airborne, following in my father’s footsteps.
Qualifying and making it into an open spot almost always means more than the four-year enlistment.
After Ryan’s death, all my intentions of reenlisting evaporated, and I counted the days until my time was up.