Chapter 18
?
— Dutch —
My hands won’t unclench from the handlebars.
I’ve been riding for six hours straight, and every time I try to relax my grip, the image floods back. Indira’s confident smile when she admitted to dating multiple men. My fingers tighten again, knuckles white against the leather.
She was dating multiple men. Living a whole life I wasn’t part of.
The words kept echoing in my head, each repetition like a fresh wound.
I’d prepared myself for a lot of possible outcomes from our meeting—rejection, anger, indifference.
But somehow I hadn’t prepared for the reality that she’d not only moved on but was thriving.
That multiple men were getting to see her smile, hear her laugh, take her to dinner, maybe more.
I’d known about Vaughn for months. For some reason, I’d never thought about Indira seeing anyone other than him.
But I shouldn’t have been surprised. She wouldn’t jump into a committed relationship so soon, not after what I’d done to her.
And she wouldn’t lack for options—I’d seen how men looked at her when we were out in Millfield.
That’s why I’d constantly found myself touching her, pulling her into my lap when we went out, making sure other men knew she was mine.
What a fucking idiot I’d been. If I’d made her my old lady when I had the chance, given her that commitment and security she deserved, I wouldn’t be here thinking about Indira dating other men. But I hadn’t.
Now multiple fucking men were getting what should have been mine alone.
My first instinct was rage mixed with sick jealousy. But the rage only lasted about ten minutes before something else took its place. Something that hurt worse than anger.
She wasn’t just dating to fill time. She was genuinely happy. Thriving, she’d said, with that confident tilt to her chin that showed she meant it. The woman I’d broken had rebuilt herself into someone whole, vibrant, and completely independent of me.
And that realization—that she didn’t need me, that she’d built a good life without me—hollowed me out more than any betrayal ever could.
I pulled over at a gas station and just sat there, hands gripping the handlebars, trying to breathe through the pain.
This was what I deserved. I’d destroyed something beautiful, and now I had to face the reality that she might never choose me over the options she had.
Why would she? I was the man who’d cheated and lied. They were men who’d never hurt her.
But underneath the pain was something else. Something that surprised me with its clarity.
If she was happy—genuinely, vibrantly happy like she’d been today—then that mattered more than what I wanted.
The thought was foreign enough that I had to sit with it for a while. When had I become the kind of man who could put someone else’s wellbeing ahead of his own desires? When had I learned to care more about her happiness than my own satisfaction?
Somewhere in the last few months, I’d stopped thinking of Indira as something I’d lost and started thinking of her as someone whose life I wanted to be good, whether or not I was part of it.
The realization should have been depressing. Instead, it felt like the only thing keeping me from completely falling apart.
The next three days blurred into asphalt and sky. I took the long route—through the Smokies instead of cutting straight west—because the mountain curves demanded attention. Every switchback forced me to focus on something besides her voice saying Vaughn, David, James, a few others.
The wind at seventy miles an hour stripped away everything but the essentials. Road. Machine. Breath. The basic mechanics of staying alive when your chest felt hollowed out.
Somewhere around the Arkansas border, the highway stretched flat and endless, nothing to distract me from the loop playing in my head. But by then, something had shifted. The knot in my chest had loosened just enough to breathe.
Thinking about Indira thriving made me think about my mother.
She had a nice tidy sum in her bank account now—Glitch kept an eye on it for me, had mentioned she’d finally started using it.
That was good. But what else could I do to help her get to a happy place like Indira had found?
My mother had spent forty years shrinking herself to fit into King’s shadow.
She didn’t have friends, didn’t have hobbies, didn’t have a life outside of that house.
The money gave her options, but options weren’t the same as freedom.
Maybe I needed to call her more. Visit more.
Show her that someone actually gave a damn about what she wanted, not just what she could do for everyone else.
When I got back to the clubhouse, I threw myself into club business with more focus than I’d had in months. Maybe it was a coping mechanism, or maybe seeing Indira had reminded me that I had responsibilities beyond my own love life.
Either way, it worked.
I spent the next week reviewing financial reports, meeting with our legal counsel about the ATF investigation, and planning security protocols for the territorial expansion. For the first time since I’d started talking with Indira, club business felt manageable rather than overwhelming.
The difference was that I wasn’t using it as an escape anymore. I was using it as a foundation-something solid to build on while I figured out what came next.
Thursday night, Colt knocked on my office door.
“You got a minute?”
“What’s up?”
He settled into the chair across from my desk, studying my face. “You seem... different. Since you got back from Nashville.”
“Different how?”
“Less desperate. More like yourself again, but sadder.” He paused. “What happened?”
I was starting to think I should have called church to tell all my brothers about my meeting with Indira at once, so I didn’t have to go over it again and again.
But Colt deserved to hear it directly—he’d been there for the ride when I delivered that letter, had listened to me talk about her between the long highway stretches.
I leaned back in my chair, trying to figure out how to explain. “She told me she’s been dating multiple men.”
“Fuck, brother. That’s rough.”
“Yeah.” I rubbed my face. “The worst part is she was so confident about it. Not apologetic, not trying to make me feel bad. Just... happy. Really, genuinely happy without me.”
“How you handling that?”
The question caught me off guard. We didn’t do this. We drank, we fought, we fucked. We didn’t sit around asking each other how we were handling things.
But maybe that was changing too. Maybe I wasn’t the only one learning new ways to be.
“Badly,” I admitted. “Every time I think about her with someone else, it guts me. But what am I supposed to do? She has every right to date whoever she wants.”
Colt was quiet for a moment. “You know, a year ago, if some woman you wanted had told you she was dating other guys, you would have lost your shit.”
“A year ago, I thought love was about ownership. Now I know it’s about wanting someone to be happy, even if their happiness doesn’t include you.”
“And if she chooses one of them?”
I’d been asking myself that question all week. “Then I hope he’s good to her.”
Colt shook his head in amazement. “She really changed you.”
“No,” I said, thinking about it. “Losing her changed me. But she’s the reason I’m trying to stay changed.”
The weeks that followed were some of the hardest of my life. Indira and I continued our Sunday calls. But I knew—could feel it in my bones—that she was still actively dating other men. Still exploring her options, still figuring out what she wanted.
And I had to be okay with that.
Had to smile when she mentioned going to a concert, even though I knew it was probably with Vaughn. Had to be supportive when she talked about a nice dinner at some fancy restaurant, even though I knew he was likely the one taking her there.
Had to accept that the woman I loved was building connections with other men, and that one of them might be the one she chose in the end.
It was torture. But it was also the price of what I’d done. The cost of destroying her trust.
That night, after our Sunday call ended, I sat in the dark of my office for a long time. Then I pulled up the photo I’d taken of us at the lake, before everything went wrong. Her head on my shoulder. Both of us laughing at something I couldn’t remember.
I just stared at it. Couldn’t look away. Couldn’t make myself put the phone down.