Chapter Forty-Nine
Tank
The air outside Safe House smells like spring, like something soft trying to bloom through the cracked pavement, and I smile at the thought of something good happening in Boise, a city which deserves a break from the constant storm of shit that has plagued most of its existence, and will probably continue to plague its future, too. Then I shake my head — Boise brought me Bianca, and that ain’t bad. Still, despite the moment of respite, there’s a heaviness hanging over everything. Everyone’s dressed in black. Vanessa’s memorial just ended, and now people are murmuring quiet goodbyes, hugging, and heading to their cars.
Ricky’s standing off to the side, eyes raw, like he hasn’t slept in days. Probably hasn’t. He’s holding it together, but only barely. Diesel, Mayhem, and Havoc are flanking him like human walls, like they’re keeping him propped up just by being there. That’s what brothers do. I meet his eyes; he nods at me, and I nod back. He knows I’m here for him, and that I’ll be giving him a damn hug soon enough. Been giving out plenty of those lately, and it ain’t half bad.
I feel a hand slip into mine. It’s Bianca. She looks gorgeous, even with red-rimmed eyes and a weariness she hasn’t shaken.
“What’s going to happen to Ricky?” she whispers.
“We’re heading to Ironwood Falls,” I tell her. “Me and him. But we’re taking the long way.”
She tilts her head. “Long way?”
“Scenic route. He needs time. He needs air in his lungs, tires on the road, a little time to remember who he is when he’s not chasing ghosts.”
She nods like she understands. And of course she does. She’s been carrying ghosts longer than most people.
“What about you?” I say. “What happens to you now? And to Safe House?”
She pauses, thoughtful, and glances toward Alex, who’s standing a few feet away, chatting with two of the residents. Her voice is steady when she finally answers. “I’m handing over day-to-day to Alex. She’s got the heart for it. And the guts. She’s earned it.” Bianca’s eyes are on Alex, and there’s a mix of pride and sadness, like she’s watching a child she raised set off on their own.
“And you?”
“I’ll still be around for now.” She turns back to me, her grip on my hand strong, solid. “Safe House is mine — it’s part of me. But I’ve got to make space for something new. Maybe in Ironwood Falls. Maybe with you.
“Maybe?”
“Definitely. I love you, but right now, everything seems so scary and temporary.”
“I ain’t going anywhere. But if you’re looking at Ironwood Falls, does that mean you’re thinking about moving?”
“Eventually. But first, I’m thinking about visiting. Often. Maybe more.” She smiles. “Hope you like Boise, because you’re coming back with me from time to time.”
“I tolerate Boise.”
Bianca laughs, shakes her head. “High praise, coming from you.”
“If this city didn’t have you in it, maybe I’d be saying something different.”
“Maybe. Or maybe you’re not such a grumpy asshole. I love you, Tank.” She slides her hands into her pockets, then adds, “The money you gave me... it didn’t just save Safe House. It gave us room to breathe. To expand. We might open a second site. Ironwood Falls would be a good place to start.”
My chest swells. “You’re doing more with that money than I ever could’ve dreamed.” I step in, brush a strand of hair behind her ear, and look at her like I mean it — because I do. “I love you, Bianca. And I’m proud of you.”
She leans into my touch. “I love you, Caleb Morgan. And I’m proud of you, too.”
We kiss — slow, reverent. Not rushed. Not desperate. Just real. Two wounded people, finding each other, finding healing, finding a chance at a life better than they could have ever imagined.
Then I pull back, knowing it’s time. I nod toward the waiting bikes, where Ricky stands with his MC brothers, a duffel slung over one shoulder. His entire life packed into a single bag. I’ve been in that place many times before, carried heartache, grief, pain, the whole damn spectrum of agony, just like him, and I turned out alright. Maybe, just maybe, I can help Ricky do the same.
“I’ll see you in Ironwood Falls,” I say, resting my forehead against Bianca’s for a heartbeat.
“You better.”
Then I turn and stride toward Ricky. “You ready, Ricky?”
Ricky turns, eyes still hollow, but stronger than before. “Not even close.”
I clap him on the back. “Good. Let’s ride anyway.”