Chapter Thirty-Two
John
November 29 th
Abe leaned forward and clinked his beer bottle against mine. “Happy Thanksgiving, John. Never in a million years did I ever think I’d spend one by a beach in goddamned California, but I gotta say, I don’t fuckin’ hate it.”
Lifting my bottle in a toast, I put it to my mouth and tipped it up, taking a long pull. “Happy Thanksgiving, Abe,” I parroted, smacking my lips. “Sit back, put your feet up, and enjoy the views, bud.”
We’d been here for three weeks, and I had to admit that Abe was right. I’d always been a man who loved the change of seasons, but it was nice not to be colder than a witch’s tit in Southern Wyoming when winter blew in.
I missed my boys, Freya and Sophie, and the grandkids even more, but not enough to head home just yet. After all, Leesy Stone and I were on honeymoon.
After staying at Niagara Falls for a few days, we headed to Kansas City with Abe and Iris to take in a game. While we were there, we applied for our marriage license, waited a week, then went to City Hall, and finally, I married Elise Bell.
Nobody knew about it yet; we reckoned we’d tell them when we went home for the holidays. For now, we wanted to enjoy being us, so that was exactly what we did.
We hit Sacramento toward the end of October, stayed a week while Duchess met with her therapist, and then drove down to San Diego.
Our rental backed onto the beach, and we loved it. There was plenty of room, so Abe and Iris did what they promised and came to visit before we were due to head back to Wyoming in a couple of weeks.
We spoke to the kids every day.
The club was ticking over nicely. The new Prez had already expanded the building firm. The Demons now had a yard in Mapletree, which was proving to be a little gold mine. They’d employed contractors from the town to cover the extra jobs coming in, and Cash was actively recruiting more men.
The women were doing well, too.
Layla—the only ol’ lady who had any interest in the kitchen—kept the men fed and watered with the help of Sera—who, by Sophie’s account, was a godsend with her baking skills. Cara, Kennedy, and Sophie all had their careers and businesses—and, of course, their kids—and their men wouldn’t have it any other way.
Bandit would have been rolling over in his grave, and personally, I couldn’t have cared less. I’d had a few remote sessions with Mitch, to work through my dad’s part in my childhood, and also his part in what happened to me and Leesy.
These days, I felt lighter, calmer, and, in Mason’s words, way more chill.
Life was good. Marriage and road trips suited my disposition. We missed the club, but our yearning for Hambleton was all about the people rather than the job. I’d done my time and lost blood, sweat, and tears to be able to pass down a legacy my kids could be proud of. But one thing I didn’t miss was the drama… much.
Soft laughter hovered in the sea breeze, and I glanced over my shoulder to watch Elise and Iris walk toward us from the kitchen, carrying a tray for each of us.
My heart seized at the carefree look on Duchess’s face, and I couldn’t help deadpanning when she sassed, “It’s okay. You two sit there and relax. We’ll do all the heavy lifting.”
Easing myself out of my chair, I shot Abe a furtive glance before calling out, “Sorry, wifey,” as I moved to meet her.
Elise laughed softly, accepting my help. I took the tray from her and placed it gently on the table. She leaned up to kiss my cheek and whispered, “Thanks, Johnny.”
Grabbing her hand, I tugged her down to sit beside me on the wicker couch, splaying our fingers together the same way I always did when she was at my side. I still needed to touch my Duchess constantly. Maybe it was because something deep inside needed reassurance she was there with me, at last.
“You’re a lazy old bastard,” Iris muttered, thinning her lips at Abe, who was lounging casually across the garden furniture—not a care in the world. “You think you’re Diana Ross laying there letting me wait on you hand and foot.”
Abe waited for Iris to place the tray of beer bottles on the table before he tagged his wife’s waist and pulled her down onto his lap to lay a wet one on her mouth. “Woman,” he drawled. “Make me a sammich.”
Iris gazed up at her ol’ man through her lashes, giggling girlishly. At the same time, Abe stared lovingly into his wife’s face, his expression immediately softening.
Leaning forward, I nabbed a cheeseburger from the tray, sat back, and took a bite. My eyes rolled in the back of my head as the meaty cheesiness assaulted my taste buds.
“Who’d have thought last year that we’d spend our next Thanksgiving on a beach eating cheeseburgers for dinner?” Abe inquired, nodding at my wedding ring. “And that you’d be a married man?”
My hand slid across my wife’s back and rested on her hip. “Best Thanksgiving ever, Abe. It’s been a trip to remember, but Leesy’s on the mend now, and her meds are working. We’ve talked about it, and we’re gonna stay in Hambleton until next summer when we go to the Grand Canyon.”
My woman’s hand hit my thigh, and she squeezed lovingly. “I miss the kids, and I want to be there when the new baby’s born.”
“Kennedy’s due December, too.” I puffed my chest out proudly. “Another biker in the makin’.”
Abe took a swig of her beer and waggled his eyebrows. “Atlas will be hoping for a boy next time around.”
“He’s desperate for a blue one,” Leesy confirmed. “Though I hope it’s a girl just so that Sophie can name her.” She winced. “Could you imagine a Zeus Woods?”
We all laughed at Atlas’s ridiculousness, but underneath the humor, I could hear the wistfulness in Leesy’s tone.
A big part of her therapy was about coming to terms with the fact we never got our family. My wife was pre-menopausal, and even so, I didn’t want her going through a pregnancy at her age, especially after all the trauma her body had sustained over the years.
Out of all the sick shit Henderson had done to us, taking away the children we always wanted, cut her the deepest. But like she said, we’d have a hundred kids to help raise at the rate my boys knocked their women up. And at least we could hand them back and fuck off on a road trip when they got too much.
Still, it would’ve been nice.
“Peace and quiet,” Abe muttered, lounging back on his chair and pulling Iris with him. “No noise, no bickerin’, no arguments, no kids—”
“Cash,” a distant voice shrieked. “Grab him. He’s escaped from his reins again.”
Abe sat up and looked around furtively.
“For fuck’s sake,” Cash’s voice bellowed. “Wilder, get your ass here. You can’t play in goddamned dog shit.”
Iris’s face paled.
“I’m never having sex with you again,” Cara screeched. “You can keep your Stone Man Superjizz to your goddamned self. Never again, Cash, do you hear me? Never fucking again!”
Abe scraped a hand down his face. “Fuck!”
Iris began to wring her hands.
Elise let out a tinkling laugh.
I tipped my head back and looked to the heavens, immediately feeling the sensation of my gut sinking into my goddamned asshole. Then, heaving a big sigh, I muttered,
“I must’ve been a right ol’ bastard in a previous life.”
Elise
The Next Morning.
“Oh my God,” I breathed, throwing my head back. “Don’t stop, Johnny.”
His fingers dug into my hips, and my husband let out a deep groan. “Ride me harder, Duchess,” he urged, his tone husky with need. “Gimme that sweet pussy.”
My nipples tingled at his words.
I loved John’s dirty mouth. Sex with my man was beautiful, fun, and so damned good that I couldn’t get enough of him.
His big, thick cock powered up into me, and I let out a whimper as he filled me over and over again until I thought I’d explode.
A thumb hit my clit, and I cried out as every nerve ending came to life. John suddenly jackknifed to a seated position, pressing hard on my clit. He buried his face in my neck and began to thrust harder, grunting every time he pushed into me.
I could feel him everywhere, inside me, on my skin, inside my pussy, and in my soul. John Stone never stopped making my butterflies come alive, and I loved the intimacy between us.
Moaning again, he bucked his hips frantically.
Warmth spread through my belly, and I whispered, “Johnny, I’m gonna come.”
“No,” he ordered. “You wait for me. We do that shit together.”
I smiled because John was right. In fact, he insisted on it.
“Stop rubbing my clit, then, baby,” I pleaded.
“You’ll take what I give you, Leesy,” he grunted. “Don’t you come until I’m there with ya.”
“I can’t take it,” I cried out.
“You can, baby,” he gritted out. “Just relax and feel.”
His strokes turned into deep thrusts, and his fingers gripped my hips harder. “Jesus, Leesy,” he muttered. “You’re so fuckin’ wet for me.”
The warmth in my stomach spread further. I let out a moan as I felt my pussy convulse around John’s cock.
“Fuck, yeah,” he moaned, thrusting harder into me. “Nearly there, Leesy. Get ready to pop.”
“Thank God.” I whimpered louder. Then, as I felt my climax building, I let out a keening cry, and my pussy clenched hard.
“Jesus Christ,” he rasped. “Gonna come, baby.” His muscular hips rocked hard, and I bounced on John’s dick, meeting him thrust for thrust.
“Eyes to me,” he breathed.
Glancing down, our stares locked, and my heart fluttered with love for my man. My entire body seized, and my orgasm ripped through me like a force-ten tornado.
“Fuck, yeah,” John rasped, holding me in place as his hips bucked uncontrollably. “Love you,” he groaned, his cum filling my belly with its warmth.
I tipped my head back and tried to regulate my sawing breaths. My heart raced, and my thighs quivered from the exertion I’d expended.
Riding John gave me the control I needed to make love to my husband.
Back when we went off on our road trip, John and I shared a bed, but we didn’t have sex until our wedding night—John’s choice. He wanted us to be man and wife before we did anything else except make out. We had to get married immediately because I may have been a woman in her early fifties, but John Stone was hot, and I wasn’t dead yet.
Our first time after so many years was so reverent and tender, and John was so careful with me that, of course, it went without a hitch. But the next night, he fucked me from behind while holding me down, and I freaked.
John was a mess, thinking he’d done something to trigger me, and I hated that he felt guilty. We were newlyweds, and all I wanted was for us to have a normal marriage after we’d lost each other for so many years.
But with Melanie’s help, we got through it and eventually enjoyed a healthy sex life because we learned our limits and the things we needed to work up to.
John told me he didn’t care how we did it as long as he got his dick wet—typical biker. Plus, he admitted he was getting old, and at least if I was on top, I could do all the work, and he wouldn’t put his back out by being over-enthusiastic.
John Stone was an asshole, but he was my asshole, and after half a lifetime without him, I could overlook the odd idiosyncrasy.
John banded his arms around my back, shuffling me to the side until we lay in bed facing each other.
“I love you.” He gave me one of his forehead kisses and pulled the sheet up to cover my body.
“Love you, too,” I whispered, gazing into the golden eyes I’d loved since I was sixteen. “It’s quiet. Where is everybody?”
“Cash and Cara took Wilder onto the beach, and Abe took Iris for breakfast to get some peace. Wilder won’t leave her alone, and you know he’s a lot.”
A giggle rose through me, and before I knew it, my face was shoved in John’s chest, and his shoulders shaking with laughter.
“Can’t believe those jokers turned up,” John choked out.
“I can.” I wiped the tears of laughter from my eyes. “Cara would travel across the universe just to get a break from Wilder.”
“Love that boy.” John chuckled. “He’s got a hilarious way about him, but Cara’s right; he is a little shit.”
“But he’s our little shit,” I whispered, mouth still curved in a smile. “And I wouldn’t change a thing about him.”
“Cara would,” John fired back, and we began to choke out more laughter. We were still busting a gut a couple of minutes later when Cash banged on the door.
“Pop,” he yelled. “You and Duchess get your asses up. There’s been a call from home, and it’s fuckin’ wild.”
“I’m not club anymore,” John yelled back. “I don’t wanna know about your ‘Days of Our Biker Lives’ bullshit. Keep me and my woman out of it.”
Cash barked a laugh from behind the door. “No, Pop. This one’s not on us. This daytime drama is all you and Duchess.” His tone lowered urgently. “Dad, it’s big. Prepare yourselves.”
John’s stare snapped to mine. “What the fuck’s he talkin’ about? We haven’t been there for two months.”
A weird feeling slid through my stomach, and I bit my lip nervously. “I don’t know, but we better go and find out.”
Three Days Later
Salt Lake City
“It’ll be okay, Mom,” Sophie whispered from her seat to my left.
I bit my lip and nodded, feeling Johnny squeeze my hand reassuringly while we waited for the judge to walk into the family courtroom.
The last few days had been filled with revelations, starting with a call to the clubhouse from the CPS offices in Salt Lake City, who were looking for me.
Of course, I called them back immediately. I had to grip the edge of a table to keep myself upright when they announced that my son, Robert Henderson Junior, was a father to a twelve-year-old boy and a ten-year-old girl who had lived happily all their lives with their mother.
The knowledge that Junior was a dad knocked me for six, but what really blew my mind was hearing that he’d been present in their lives from when they were born. His name was on their birth certificates, and when the house was cleared for sale, the movers found a letter he’d left behind stating that if anything happened to him or the kid’s mother, the authorities were to contact me directly for instruction. They also found a will, stating that I was to become the legal guardian to the children, Jack and Molly.
Within forty-eight hours, we were packed up and in the truck heading west through Nevada toward Utah, and my mind was full of questions that nobody seemed to be able to answer.
The kids’ mother, Leanne Wright, went to Hambleton High and was in the same class as Cash. He vaguely remembered her as a pretty, quiet girl who lived in a trailer park on the outskirts of town on the border between Hambleton and Mapletree. The same trailer park my ex-husband—ever the snob—had succeeded in getting closed down after years of campaigning.
Leanne and her mother, Cecelia, had been forced to relocate to Moab, a tourist town just over the Utah border, where Cece found a job as a live-in housekeeper at a big, family-run hotel.
When Leanne was twenty-one, Cecelia passed away, so she moved to a house, bought and paid for in her name in a suburb of Salt Lake City called Sandy, where she worked as an office manager in a family care medical practice while raising her two kids.
In mid-October, a massive car pile-up on the I-80 hit the local news. The children were in the car with Leanne when she was killed outright. Jack had sustained a broken arm and cuts, and Molly a concussion and internal bruising. Apart from that, they were doing fine, physically at least.
The instant we hit SLC, John and I drove straight to Primary Children’s Hospital, where both kids were still recovering while waiting to be placed into foster homes until I could be found.
As soon as we arrived, their doctor encouraged us to meet them, so we did.
Jack was polite but watchful over his sister.
Molly was shy and traumatized over losing her mom.
I fell in love, which meant John and I had some big decisions ahead of us. Not that it was much of a decision for me.
Junior wasn’t my biological son, but the world didn’t know that. The only reservation I had was that Robbie had grown up to be as evil as his father, and I couldn’t help wondering if it ran in their blood.
That was when John sat me down and told me another revelation.
Sunshine was also Junior’s biological daughter.
I knew Robbie had committed suicide because he’d been caught with date rape drugs and was being accused of raping women after roofying them. I also knew the Speed Demons were there when Robbie shot himself. My ex-husband used to rant that the club had something to do with his son’s death, but I never really listened because, by then, I understood Robbie was just like his father.
His death saved a lot of young girls from being subjected to heinous acts, so I couldn’t bring myself to mourn him, except when we were in public of course, and it was expected of me.
But the information about Sunny knocked me for six.
Layla had been the subject of town gossip for years. The women used to snigger behind their hands about her getting drunk and knocked up by some college kid who wasn’t interested in taking responsibility. They’d call her a slut, and then the hypocritical bitches would go off for a tennis lesson and bang their instructors.
The FaceTime call between John, me, Bowie, and Layla was difficult. Still, she assured me she held no grudges against anybody but Robbie. She also pointed out that the kids couldn’t control who their dad was. A realization hit me that Jack and Molly were Sunny’s half-siblings, and she was nothing but good.
And it eased my fears considerably.
The children’s doctor and the CPS had asked for an emergency hearing with the family courts to request they transfer custody of the children to John and I so we could take them back to Wyoming with us. Kennedy, our lawyer, sat beside John, looking as if she was ready to rumble.
Sophie, Mitch, Colt, and his mom Caroline—a well-known and very wealthy New York socialite—Hannigan, Shepherd, and Hendrix’s medic, Bones, were all sitting in the courtroom as professionals, ready and willing to give personal statements to the judge that we were good people and that the kids would be safe with us, and the huge extended family they would be part of.
The door opened, and my heart leaped into my throat.
I twisted my neck to see a ‘good ol’ boy’ type gentleman stroll into the room and take the seat at the head of the big, rectangular-shaped table where we all sat.
His eyes slid over every face, and he boomed, “Gotta full house, I see.”
“Yes, Judge Cooper,” the kid’s social worker confirmed. “All these folks are here to vouch for Mr and Mrs. Stone.”
The judge nodded appreciatively and picked up the reports detailing my and John’s bank statements and assets. “I see you can care financially for your grandchildren.” He looked up at John. “Is their medical insurance in place?”
“Yes, Judge,” John confirmed, nodding toward Sophie. “Not only that, but our daughter here is the head of General Surgery at Baines Memorial Hospital in Wyoming. If anything happened to me, or my wife, she would become Jack and Molly’s legal guardian.”
The judge picked up some other papers, nodding, before addressing the social worker again. “You’re happy with the quality of care the Stones can give the children?”
She smiled. “Perfectly happy, Judge.”
He nodded again, turning to address me and John. “I’ve seen a lotta cases come through this room. Most of them are petty, squabbling parents. Others are so heartbreaking that some nights, I lie awake worrying about the fate of some of the kids I see.” His mouth split into a grin. “But now and again, I get a case where the ending is a happy one. Those kids are going through an indescribable loss, but I think they’ll be okay.” He picked up a sheaf of papers and flicked through them, signing as he went. “Custody of Jack and Molly Wright has been awarded to John and Elise Stone. I just signed off on the adoption, too. Congratulations, looks like you’re in for an interesting retirement.”
My shoulders slumped with relief, and warmth slid through my belly.
“Thank you, Judge,” I murmured.
He gave me a nod, stood, and walked out without a backward glance.
John turned to Kennedy. “That’s it?”
Ned shrugged. “Looks like it.”
“Congratulations, John,” Colt piped up from his seat. “Just think, in a couple of years, you’ll have two teenagers on your hands.”
“Jesus,” Hannigan muttered. “If they’re anything like mine, I’d be giving them back.”
“Just think,” Kennedy interjected. “Hormones, moods, shark week, heartbreaks, school politics, and more heartbreak.”
“Yeah,” Sophie added. “Breaking curfew, kids coming home late and drunk,” she glanced at Kennedy and grinned, “and more heartbreak.”
My husband’s body locked with a jerk.
“John?” I questioned, a flicker of unease igniting in my belly.
Slowly, my Stone turned his head to face me, and he croaked, “Teenagers.” A hand raised to rub at his beard before he tipped his head back, looked to the heavens and spat one solitary word,
“Fuck!”
Thirteen Months Later
December 25 th
“I just puked in my mouth a little,” Bowie muttered. “Don’t you think it’s about time you bought a new Santa suit, Pop?” He nodded toward John’s ass crack, “We can see what you had for dinner last night.”
“Not to mention the family fuckin’ jewels,” Cash added.
“That’s five dollars, please, Uncle Cash,” Sunny piped up.
“It’s fuckin’ obscene if you ask me,” Atlas muttered, peeling a five-dollar bill from a huge bundle he held in his hand before handing it to Sunny. “How the fuck can you not see what we all see?” He held out another bill for Sunshine.
“There’s nothin’ wrong with my Santy suit,” John declared, thrusting his hands to his hips in a superhero stance. “Bought this suit the Christmas Cash was born; it ain’t goin’ nowhere.” He craned his head. “Yo, Jacky boy, you like your old man’s Santy suit, right?”
Jack’s mouth twisted in concentration as he shot up some enemies on his PlayStation with Kai. “Nah, Pop. Everyone can see your nutz. It’s bobbin.”
John adjusted his crotch.
“What the fuck does bobbin mean?” Atlas demanded, peeling off another note and handing it to Molly that time. “These kids talk a different fuckin’ language.” He rolled his eyes at Molly, who stretched her hand out again. “Alright, alright, gimme a goddamned minute,” he muttered, adding two more bills to her stash.
“I must say, John,” Cara called over from the sofa where she sat with Sophie and their toddlers. “At least I know where Cash gets his girth from.”
Kennedy snorted.
Abe choked on his beer.
“Damned straight,” Cash muttered.
John bent forward, peering at his crotch. “It’s fine.” He looked up again directly at me. “It’s fine, right?”
I sucked a breath in through my nose, trying to tamp down my laughter. “No, John. I told you this morning they’re too tight, the same as I told you last Christmas, incidentally, when you weighed ten pounds less.”
“Granddaddy John’s not fat,” Kady interrupted in her sweet voice. “He’s just big boned.”
Atlas cackled.
John’s face fell. “I love this suit. It reminds me of when my kids were young, and I’d hand their gifts out to them around the tree.” His stare slid toward each of his sons. “I had amazin’ kids, right, Abe?”
“You did, John,” Abe confirmed from his barstool.
“Then they grew up, right, Abe?” John called out.
“They certainly did, John,” Abe concurred.
John’s eyes narrowed. “Before I knew it, I turned around, and my Bowie had turned into Dirk Diggler, porn star supreme overnight. Cash suddenly decided he liked to be confined to small spaces, like jail. And my Kit discovered his fascination with fire and blowin’ shit up.” He deadpanned. “Maybe I do need a new Santy suit. This one’s got some bad-assed mojo.”
Sunny looked up at John, confused. “Granddaddy John? What’s a porn star?”
“Ask that sweet pussy your dad got your mom a few years ago,” Kennedy told her. “She’ll know.”
Sunny looked even more confused.
John walked over and plonked his ass down on the sofa beside me. “I think the kids like their gifts.”
My smile widened as I watched Jack shoot up more enemies. My heart contracted when my eyes turned to watch Molly play with her Golden Labrador puppy.
We’d spoiled the kids this year, but then, what else were we going to do with our money?
Robert and Bear’s deaths had closed down the trafficking ring for good. What it had also done was help the Feds discover the millions they made from it.
Most of the cash had been confiscated by the US Government, which was exactly how it should have been, except that Robert had also owned legitimate businesses and invested well.
With Robbie dead, I was his next of kin, and I inherited over one hundred and fifty million dollars.
I gave half of it to women’s charities, and I commissioned the old mansion to be rebuilt and repurposed into a women’s refuge. When it was finished, it would offer accommodation to fifty families along with meeting rooms for counseling sessions. It was a huge project, and I had to get planning approval from the new mayor to build it, but with the new mayor of Hambleton being Abe, it wasn’t a problem.
The first six months of the kids living with us were difficult, to say the least.
Jack was angry at the world, and Molly was heartbroken. We decided to get them straight into counseling, and eventually, everything started to get easier.
John was so patient with them, more so than me, but then he’d had a lot of practice with raising kids, whereas I was clueless seeing as my ex-husband took over Junior’s upbringing when he turned eleven and sent him to boarding school. Over time, though, things settled down, especially when we got the kids into school, and life was good.
I loved being a mom and a grandmother.
I had two granddaughters now with the birth of Lola, who lived her life strapped to her daddy’s chest as he went about his work at the clubhouse. Belle was toddling around, and Wilder—well, he was just wild as usual. Kennedy and Breaker had another boy, Kalen. Bowie and Layla’s brood was about to get bigger, seeing as Bowie had knocked her up again. Everybody was healthy and happy.
Just as it should be.
I leaned my cheek against John’s shoulder and sighed contentedly.
John’s hand found mine, and he entwined our fingers together. “You happy?”
Emotion filled my throat because happy wasn’t a word I could use to describe how I felt inside. I’d gotten lost, and then I was found, and there weren’t words in existence to explain how it felt to finally be with the man I’d loved since we were kids with stars in our eyes.
“I’m blessed,” I breathed, watching my family laughing and joking together.
Atlas’s eyes came to us, and he pointed two fingers at his eyes before turning to point them at John. “I’m watchin’ you.”
My mouth curved.
My son-in-law wasn’t happy when we came home and announced we’d gotten hitched. Since then, Atlas constantly told John that one day, he’d see him in the ring.
It hadn’t happened yet.
Atlas’s mouth thinned, his eyes falling on John’s tight, red pants. “I’m tellin’ ya. You need to go get changed. We can see what God gave ya, and it ain’t fuckin’ pretty.”
Sunny stood from the floor where she was playing with Kady, Molly, and the puppy, and popped a hip. “That’s five dollars, please, Atlas .”
The room fell silent.
All color drained from my son-in-law’s face. “Huh?”
Sunny looked at him as if he’d lost the plot. “Oh my God, Atlas. I said that’s five dollars, please.”
“Jesus Christ,” John whispered. “Look at his face.”
My eyes widened when I saw Atlas’s expression, which went from devastated to blank. “Be right back,” he croaked with a catch to his voice before he turned and stomped out.
“Ooops,” Sophie murmured.
Bowie smiled at Sunshine sadly. “My girl’s growin’ up.”
“They all are,” John agreed, gazing around the room. “The Earth travels around the sun, and the years pass. We can’t stop it, and why would we want to?” He shrugged. “I’ve got a cut hangin’ out on that wall that I remember puttin’ on for the first time, years ago. Your grandpa’s cut’s out there, too, along with all the cuts of the men no longer with us. Time moves on, things change, and we evolve. We grow up, we strive to do better, and God calls us home when he feels it’s time. But remember, the stuff we leave behind can help future generations, and I don’t mean the material shit, I mean the love, boys. That’s what’s important. One day, one of these kids will sit in the big chair, and I hope they think back and remember what their Granddaddy John gave them.” His eyes misted over, and he looked at his boys in turn, nodding proudly. “I hope they recognize that we left them a home and somewhere they belong. I hope they carry on the legacy.”
My eyes welled up as John’s words sunk in.
He was right; this club was home to everybody who felt lost, just like I once was. The men in it may not have all been blood, but they were all family. Even Jack and Molly had a good life ahead of them because my husband never cared about where they came from or who they were born to, and I loved him all the more for it.
“I guess there’s not much more to say,” he shrugged, “except, thank you, one and all, for riding this ride with me.” He raised his bottle in the air, grinning huge. “Here’s to the Speed Demons.”