Chapter 16 #2
Would you be willing to meet me in person? I could come to Nashville, wherever you’d feel comfortable. I’m not asking for anything more than a conversation, but I think we’ve reached the point where emails and phone calls aren’t enough.
I understand if you’re not ready. But if there’s any chance you’d be willing to see me, I’d like to try.
Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it.
Jacob
I read it six times before sending it, then spent the next three days checking my email obsessively.
Her response came on Thursday.
Jacob,
I’ve been thinking the same thing. Yes, I’m willing to meet you.
I know you’re in Oregon and I’m in Tennessee. That’s a long way. We could meet somewhere in the middle—Denver, maybe, or Kansas City. Somewhere neutral.
Let me know what works for you.
Indira
I stared at her email, heart pounding. She was willing to meet.
But meeting in the middle felt wrong. This wasn’t about convenience or splitting the distance. This was about proving I’d do whatever it took, go wherever she needed me to go.
I wrote back within minutes.
Indira,
Thank you. You have no idea what this means to me.
But I don’t want to meet in the middle. I want to come to you—Nashville, on your turf, wherever you feel safe. You pick the place. You set the terms. I’ll be there.
It’s a five-day ride from Millfield, so I’ll need a couple of weeks to get things squared away at the club before I can leave. How does three weeks from now work? We can figure out the details closer to the date.
Jacob
Her reply came the next morning.
Jacob,
Three weeks works. We can sort out where and when once you’re closer.
This is just a conversation. I’m not making any promises beyond that.
Indira
I stared at her email until the words blurred, hardly believing what I was reading. After months of patience, she was finally willing to see me face to face.
The next three weeks were a blur of preparation. I spent the first week making sure the club could run without me—briefing Holden on every pending deal, walking Glitch through the security contracts that needed attention, making sure Colt had what he needed for the Louisville expansion.
My brothers gave me shit about taking another road trip, but there was something different in their eyes this time. Less suspicion, more... respect, maybe. Or at least curiosity about whether this woman had really changed their prez.
“Listen up,” I said at the end of our last briefing session, all of them gathered in church. “I’m gonna give you assholes some free advice you didn’t ask for.”
Colt smirked. “This gonna be one of those famous Dutch speeches?”
“Yeah, it is. When you find your old lady—and I mean the real deal, not some club girl you’re screwing this week—you be loyal to her. You put her first. You don’t fuck around, you don’t make her doubt you, and you damn sure don’t give her reasons to walk away.”
Holden and Glitch exchanged glances. Colt rolled his eyes.
“I’m serious,” I continued. “You screw that up, you’ll spend years trying to unfuck the damage. Ask me how I know.”
“We hear you, Dutch,” Holden said, but I could see the dismissiveness in his posture. They thought this was just me being reformed and preachy.
“You think you hear me. But you’re gonna ignore this shit, do whatever you want, and then one day you’re gonna be in my position—fighting to get back what you lost. And when that happens, I’m gonna tell you I told you so, dumbass.”
Colt laughed. “You planning on riding all the way to Nashville just to say ‘I told you so’ when we fuck up?”
“Nah. I’ll text it. Save on gas.”
The tension broke, and they laughed, but I’d said what I needed to say. They’d remember it later, even if they thought it was bullshit now.
“Church adjourned,” I said, banging the gavel one last time. “I’m leaving in an hour. Colt, you’re in charge while I’m gone.”
I didn’t give them time to respond, just headed to my room to pack. An hour later, I was on my bike, Millfield shrinking in my mirrors. Five days of highway and headspace ahead of me, of cheap motels and gas station coffee, of thinking about what I’d say when I finally saw her again.
The morning of the meeting, I found myself checking my appearance in every mirror, changing clothes three times, arriving at the coffee shop she’d chosen an hour early just to scope out the place.
I wanted to know where the exits were, where she’d feel most comfortable, which table would give her a clear path to the door if she wanted to leave.
I was about to see Indira again. Not a glimpse across a crowded bar, but an actual conversation. A chance to show her in person that I’d become someone worth her time.
The thought terrified and exhilarated me in equal measure.
Because I knew this meeting would determine everything. Either she’d see that my changes were real and lasting, or she’d realize that some mistakes were too big to overcome.
Either way, I’d finally have my answer.
And for the first time in my life, I was more concerned with what she needed than what I wanted.
That had to count for something.