CHAPTER TWO
Cody—
That all changed the day an active shooter took Ryan’s life. A lot has changed in the six years since that awful day.
I prospected with the Evil Dead MC. Now I’m a full-patched member. I’m a good soldier with loyalty to another organization—the club and my brothers.
Taking a drag from my cigarette, I walk through the cemetery.
It’s chilly today with a snap in the air. The wind rips across my face as I follow the trail to Ryan’s marker.
Burying my chin in my leather, I don’t look up until I’m almost upon it.
The woman standing at his grave halts me in my tracks.
When she turns and looks at me, I recognize her face.
The bridge.
It’s the girl from a week ago.
At the time, I didn’t get her name, but her face has nagged at me. She looked familiar, but I’d dismissed that as crazy. I’m miles from home. Where would we have met?
Now, finding her standing at Ryan’s grave, it all makes sense.
She’s the woman in the photo he had taped above his bed.
His girl.
The one he was supposed to marry.
The one who was carrying his child.
I can tell by the way her mouth parts that she remembers me, too.
“Hey,” I say softly.
“What are you doing here?” A frown creases her brow.
I lift my chin to the marker. “I knew Ryan. I served with him.”
Her eyes widen. “You did?”
“Yeah. We met in basic and got deployed together.”
She tilts her head. “Are you Cody?”
“Yeah.”
“He talked about you all the time.”
“I didn’t put it together the other day, but I remember where I saw your face before. He had your photo taped over his bunk. Heather, right?”
She nods, then turns to stare at the marker.
I move closer and read the inscription.
Ryan Payton.
Loving son.
I frown, wondering why there’s no inscription saying loving husband and father, then remember they hadn’t married before his death, and she hadn’t had the baby yet.
Ryan never got to meet his kid.
I tilt my head. “You were having a baby, right? I remember how excited he was. He was so anxious to get home and marry you. It’s all he talked about. He had all these plans.”
She wipes at her cheeks.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
“It’s not that. I’m glad to hear about that.”
“How’s your baby?”
She smiles. “He’s turning five soon.”
“Wow. Does he look like Ryan?”
“He’s so much like him. It’s like Ryan left me with a gift before he died. I get to raise his little mini-me.”
I grin. “That’s awesome. He would have loved to be a father. He was damn excited.”
Her eyes drop to my cut. “You’re in a motorcycle club?”
“Yeah. The Evil Dead out of California.”
“Oh? Which part?”
“San Jose.”
“You’re a long way from home.”
“Guess so. We’re out here visiting the Birmingham chapter. One of our guys transferred there.” I nod toward the gravestone. “Figured I’d make the ride since I missed the funeral. Was it nice?”
“Yes. Very.”
“I’m sorry he’s gone. God, I miss him every damn day.”
She doesn’t reply, but stares at the marker.
“We never got to have that lunch I promised you.”
“I guess we didn’t,” she murmurs.
“Are you okay? I was worried about you.”
“I’m better. Thanks. That was a bad day.” She turns and meets my eyes. “Thanks for stopping me. That was a dumb idea. I don’t know what I was thinking. It would have been so selfish to leave my son an orphan.”
“Did you get some help? Some counseling?”
“I’ll be okay. But, really, thanks for talking me down.”
“Of course.” I study her face. She’s even prettier standing here than she was that day on the bridge, but there are dark shadows around her eyes, and I wonder if she gets enough sleep.
“A lot of cars drove past that day. Not you.”
The sound of a Harley roaring past draws her eyes over my shoulder to the road in the distance. I turn but can’t spot it behind several trucks rumbling along.
When I look back at her face, she seems pale.
“I really have to go.” She extends her hand. “It was nice to meet you, Cody.”
“Can I get your number?” I ask, but she’s already hustling toward a small silver SUV.
Shoving my hands in my pockets, I let her go, sad she wouldn’t stay and talk longer. Perhaps it’s the cut I wear. She wouldn’t be the first woman who wanted nothing to do with me once she found out about the MC.
Something makes me get her license plate and tap it into my phone. It’s not much, but maybe our tech guy can track her down for me when I get to California. I’d like to at least keep in contact with her and make sure she and Ryan’s little boy are all right. I owe Ryan, and it’s the least I can do.
The sun is sinking, and the sky is turning orange and purple. My attention returns to Ryan’s grave. I dig a quarter out of my hip pocket, squat down, and leave the coin on the stone.
“Miss you, buddy. I’m so sorry. You should be here. I should have been the one there in your place that day. It shoulda been me.”
Glancing back, I see Heather pulling out onto the highway and accelerating quickly.
I’ve crossed paths with this girl twice in the space of a week. If there’s one thing I firmly believe, there are no coincidences.
“Did you put me on that bridge that day, Ryan? Did you make me later than the rest of the group, so I’d be there at that exact moment and stop her?”
A strong wind blows through the trees nearby and gusts over me, ruffling my hair.
Straightening, I stare at the gravestone. “It should have been me, Ryan. If only I hadn’t been late that day, you’d be here with your wife and son. I’m so sorry, buddy.”