9. Colt
Chapter 9
Colt
I ’ve heard taps being played at a funeral more than I care to acknowledge. I’ve lost people I’ve loved, people I worked beside, fought alongside, and each time, I shoulder guilt that they’re gone and I’m still standing. This funeral hits harder today than the rest. I haven’t been to Tennessee in over eight years. Not because I haven’t wanted to, but the memories are just too much. Everywhere I look, I’m reminded of cool blue eyes filled with tears and the dreams that I let die.
Staring at another box holding the body of one of my best friends is a burn in my chest that leaves a wake of ash in my throat. I can’t do this.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” Zane echoes my thoughts when he slides up next to me. His hand touching the coffin gently.
“This isn’t right.” I nod in agreement. A year after I was in the military, I spent time overseas training and working when I met Tric, only to find out he grew up in a city not far from my hometown and was a year younger than me in school. We hung out, and when we were all able to get together, we hung out with Zane. It had been nice knowing that wherever I ended up, I had buddies stationed all over that I could talk to who understood the life of an active soldier.
One year for Christmas, Tric had made our entire platoon T-shirts that read “I Hate Sand” on them to commemorate the nine months we spent in Iraq. He was the jokester of our group and the one who kept us all chill, even when we were carrying heavy arsenal into enemy territory. I will never hear ACDC’s “Hells Bells” again and not think about him. He’s been as close to me as Zane for the past seven years. I can’t believe he’s gone, and that the world is now deprived of one of the greatest men I’ve ever known.
I would have shed blood for any of my brothers in combat, and Tric sacrificed his life for me. It was a mission we shouldn’t have been involved in. His death was ruled a casualty, only there was nothing casual about it. It was a mistake that could have been avoided if the right people had been watching. I’ve spent the past few nights going through everything in my head, and nothing makes sense to me. I will never understand how it happened, and now that I’ve started my discharge paperwork, I will never get the answers I crave.
Zane clears his throat, his head nodding toward the parking lot. “There's a man in a motorcycle club patch waiting back there. He wanted to talk about Tric.”
“To me?” I ask, confused as hell.
“That’s what he said.” Zane nods and looks around, stalling. “Any idea what that could be about?”
I do, and it was something I had been hoping to put off for a few more days. My chest feels tight and I take one more look at the blown-up picture of Tric off to the side. I wish I could have told him goodbye. I wish there had been a way to prevent this tragedy. Finally, I manage to force myself to step back from the coffin, offering one final salute to my friend. I hate being back here. Being in my home state continues to feel like a death sentence even to this day.
Zane and I walk away, past the rows of identical headstones and head toward the man waiting for us. Behind my Oakleys, I notice the black leather cut and the skull with wings on his patch. President is stitched on top, and I fight to keep my face neutral at the implication of this man being here. His black hair, peppered with gray, is cut short, his lips forming a grim line across his weathered face. He watches us approach, his gaze never wavering from where we are. When we get closer, I notice that farther down the rows of gravestones, outside the gate, five other bikes are waiting, their owners all wearing identical cuts and sporting the same logo with “Rebels of the Undead” stitched broadly across their backs.
“What the hell,” Zane mutters under his breath.
“Gentlemen.” The man steps up when we’re finally in front of him. “Name’s Austin Pierce.”
“Your name tag says Daggerz, with a Z,” Zane quips, while shoving his hands into his pockets.
The man’s lips quirk up, something almost like a smile ghosting his facial features. “That's my road name, kid. Unless you plan to patch in or if you value your life, you don’t call me that. You can, however, address me by my name like an adult.”
“How can we help you, Mr. Pierce?” I ask, my brow raised, my tone biting, wanting to staunch the tension that's growing between us. I hadn’t had time to fill Zane in, but I knew who Austin “Daggerz” Pierce was. I also knew why he was here today. The one thing I didn’t understand was why it was him and not his Vice President. The man who happened to be Tric’s father.
“On behalf of Mr. Wilder’s father, I wanted the opportunity to meet with two of the friends who were closest to his son. My VP couldn’t be here today. He hasn’t been good since we got the call. But I know he wanted to meet you boys. Tric always talked about you two,” Austin explains to us, pausing to run his eyes over us. “I’m hoping you’ll consider joining us so he can have the chance to meet y’all officially. It doesn’t have to be at the clubhouse. My wife does a great BBQ and we can use the local park.”
“We’re only on a short leave until our paperwork is done,” I reply, even while my pulse thrums in my temples. I have so many questions for this man and so many things I want to say to his VP.
“Wife? Don’t you call them old ladies?” Zane asks again and the man’s eyes flash.
“As I said...” Austin hands over a piece of paper with his number on it. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t think it was good for my VP. And anything that has to do with my club, my brothers, or my wife, should stay out of your mouth. We’re only here to help our brother.”
Zane’s hand reaches out and he pinches the paper between his fingers, studying it, before handing it to me. “We’ll let you know.”
Austin nods once before turning on his heel and marching back to his bike. Neither Zane nor I move while the man starts up his bike and rides back down the gravel road. At the gates, the rest of his entourage start up their bikes. A loud roaring noise from their engines fires off a total of seven times before they drive off, arms raised in the air and their hands in a fist. My heart clenches, recognizing the sign of respect that Tric had taught me.
“What the hell?” Zane blows out his breath.
My gaze follows them until they’re out of sight before turning to Zane. “We have a lot to talk about. There are things Tric told me about his life before the military. About his dad in general.”
His shoulders shrug. “The vice president of a motorcycle club, you mean?”
I nod, feeling the back of my neck heat. Even though he is gone, it still feels like I’m betraying my friend for telling his secrets. “He grew up in that life. He planned to go back when he got out, but his dad didn’t want him to. It caused a huge rift and that's why they haven’t spoken in the past three years.”
“He would have been a decorated officer, discharged with honor. It makes sense that his dad wouldn’t want him to fall into the MC life. Who even knows what that club is into? For all we know, they could be drug dealers or selling weapons to gangs. If I had known, I would have been on his dad’s side.” Zane sighs, the frustration of what could have been rolling through his body like a tidal wave.
“Are you heading home tonight?” I ask, changing the subject. I understand where Zane is coming from, but there is also a small piece of me that understands Tric. That club was his family. He grew up there surrounded by people who cared for him. When he left to explore the world and finish his degree, he planned to come back home. He was proud of the Rebels of the Undead.
Zane’s hand grips the back of his neck. “Yeah. Ma made lasagna. I think one of my sisters and her family are coming too. Are you?”
His eyes flick to mine. “Yeah, I probably should. My dad’s been asking since we learned about Tric.”
“How’s that going to go?” He turns to me, concern written all over his face.
“Haven’t seen him in eight years.” I shrug. “He writes me all the time and says things are different. I’m trying to let it be water under the bridge.”
“I can’t believe you haven’t been back since we left. I thought for sure you stopped in at least once.” Zane’s head hangs down.
I know who he’s thinking about. The only good reason I would have had to come home would have been to check up on her. We haven’t spoken her name in years, yet she’s still the one person who sits at the front of my mind and I use alcohol to numb the guilt. Knowing she hates me makes things easier. She should hate me. When I look back on it now, I know it was the cowardly way out to let her think I had slept with someone else. That I pushed her away that hard instead of being honest. I chose my pride and guilt over her.
Over the years, I’ve never sought Lyric out, and she’s never reached out to me either. For all I know, she could be married with a handful of kids she always wanted. Even though those thoughts make my heart twinge, I know I brought it upon myself. I have no right to her. So many years have passed that there is a very good chance I mean absolutely nothing to her anymore. I was just a boyfriend who she dated when she was young. And that thought kills me. It terrifies me, when she is still the one person I would drop everything for and run to if she so much as looked at me.
“Some things are better left in the past,” I lie through my teeth and taste those sour words in my mouth. If I had the chance to see Lyric again…I’d give up my life for it and Zane knows it.
“Call me later. I might know of a party happening,” my best friend says, before jumping in his rental car and driving away.
My body is slower to get into my own and follow. It doesn’t take long until I reach the city sign of my old hometown. Dad said he’d have dinner ready at six, and it’s only quarter past five. I will get there with plenty of time to spare, unfortunately, and I just don’t care to spend time chitchatting. He has kept in touch with me over the years, and every time I get a letter, the old resentment I have feels like it's smothering me. My hand comes up to unfasten the top button on my shirt so I can breathe. I’m already itching to get out of town and away from the ghosts that haunt me here.
Deciding to take the back roads to get to my childhood home, hoping that will eat up some of the time, I pass our old hangouts. The back end of town by the pizzeria where I took Lyric on our first date. I pass the school and the football field where I shed blood and tears, back when I thought I had the world all figured out and let my dreams grow beyond their capacity. When I was young and naive enough to think that being a professional athlete was within my grasp, simply because I played well in a small town. The mistakes I made with the people who always cared about me the most is never far from my conscience. I refuse to think back on it, though. I have convinced myself going forward is the only option, even if it feels like razors slicing their way through my heart piece by agonizing piece.
By the time I pull into my old neighborhood, I feel as if the whole town knows I’ve rolled in. Their prodigal son. The one who hurt his high school sweetheart and ducked out of town before I could pay for my sins. I get a few stares, and a few people who definitely recognize me stop to wave. I can’t help my gaze from wandering over to Lyric’s old house. The place looks closed up and I wonder if her parents even live there anymore. Dad’s house has the lights on inside and another car I don’t recognize is parked in the driveway already.
I get out and walk up the front path like I have hundreds of times before. The old flower bushes have been taken out and replaced with rock and flower pots. Where my old boards and bike rack used to be now sits one of those raised garden beds. Everything is familiar and different at the same time. I can hear noise inside, the sound of pots rattling and feet shuffling around. Emotion lodges itself deep in my throat. Fuck, this is harder than I thought it would be. At the door, I hesitate; my hand half-raised, unsure if I should knock or just go right in. Considering the old man swore at me and told me to never come back all those years ago, I choose to knock instead.
When the door swings open, it feels like someone took a boulder and threw it at my chest, knocking the wind from my lungs and piercing my internal organs. Brown eyes stare back at me.
His brown eyes.
My eyes.
My mind is thrown back to a time where the other person with those eyes smiled and threw me one more pass, promising to take the rap for us being late to the dinner table.
“Hey, Uncle Colt.” AJ stands before me, tall, almost as tall as me, looking just like his dad, except for Caitlyn’s black hair.
I can’t speak or move. He’s the spitting image of the one person I’d wished I had around throughout the years to go to for advice. The one person I needed when things fell apart at home. My brother that I prayed to every time I wasn’t sure if I would make it back home from deployments. Every time I ran into danger, rather than away, I felt his protection, his presence shouting for me to keep moving. It was my dream of him that stopped me from volunteering for the mission Tric was on.
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Dad’s gruff voice says from over by the kitchen area, and instantly pulls me back to reality. I blink, my fingers pressing to my eyes.
“Sorry,” I mumble and move to step around the kid, who clearly isn’t a kid anymore, and into the home I ran from. The home that held more painful memories than good. My eyes must be misogynists because right away they seek out the fireplace mantel where Alex and my mom’s shrine should be. A shield slides up to protect my heart only to falter instead.
Alex’s folded flag is still there in its wooden box, along with Mom’s picture. The frames are clear, clean and not a speck of dust coats them. It’s then that I see my picture from basic training that’s next to them. My pictures and accomplishments never made it on the mantel when I lived here. I never deserved the spot of honor that would have been taken up. Next to mine is AJ dressed in a high school baseball uniform, and he looks so much like his dad that my chest squeezes. I’ve missed so much of him growing up.
“You play baseball?” slips out of my mouth before I can stop it.
“He’s going to play for Vanderbilt in a couple years,” Dad answers, his words dripping with pride.
My gaze swings to AJ, who looks uncomfortable with the praise. His shoulders lift in a shrug. “My ma said the first thing I learned once I could stand was to throw a ball. Guess I got it from my dad.”
“You look like him too,” I reply, wondering where the hell my filter went. Thoughts become words and pass my lips without my permission.
“That’s what I keep hearing,” he says, eyes looking down like he doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. Not that I blame him. He was little the last time I visited him.
“Dinner is ready if you want to have a seat,” Dad interjects, saving us all from these agonizing moments of awkwardness.
I walk to the table, and my eyes widen. “You cooked?”
Dad’s eyes roll and he huffs, “I’ve been taking a class or two the past couple of years. Wanted to have more than barbeque or pizza available if you boys ever showed up.”
“You took a cooking class?” I scoff. The man never took care of himself and we lived off frozen meals when Mom died.
Dad stays quiet and so does AJ, while he passes the dishes around. I’m handed something that looks like eggplant in parmesan, a platter of chicken with mushroom sauce next, and a salad bowl last. Each helping onto my plate makes my blood boil. I keep my mouth clamped shut this time though, while AJ fills my dad in on the classes he’s taking.
“You two do this often?” I grit out, my fork gripped tightly between my fingers. This isn’t about me being upset about their relationship. It has to do with the fact that Dad made all these changes and never shared with me that he’s been close to AJ.
After Alex passed, we saw AJ only a handful of times before Mom passed away. After that, Caitlyn refused to bring him around when my dad became a drunk with a shit-poor personality. I purposefully stayed away from him, so we didn’t ruin his life. I didn’t even know if the kid knew who I was or would remember me, so even as an adult I never searched him out on social media.
“I got sober about a year after you left. I worked hard, Colt, to make peace with the shitty father I was, and knew I wanted to change. I reached out to Caitlyn a few years after that and she slowly started bringing AJ around for short visits. I wrote you about it,” Dad explains, his hands folded in front of him on the table, his head and eyes lowered. I’ve never seen this man cower in on himself. He has never admitted his mistakes or talked about the issues we had when I was growing up. AJ’s eyes bounce back and forth between us, his shoulders starting to tense.
“I didn’t read them,” I answer, swallowing my own shame. I purposefully pushed him further away, resentful of how things were left between us and damn angry about how I grew up.
“I can’t say I blame you there, son.” Dad rubs his hands together, clearing his throat. “I never heard back from you, but I learned from Zane’s parents that you were in Iraq a few times, South Korea, then were stationed out in Texas again. Moving around so much must make it hard to get mail too.”
“Pops filled me in on your career,” AJ interjects, trying to ease the mood at the table. “I feel like I know you without actually remembering much. I also know about your football days. I think the football coach was bummed when I decided to play baseball instead.”
I can’t fight the grin that tips my lips at that one. My eyes rake over my nephew. A young man I never had the chance to see grow up. “I’m glad you’re here, kid.”
He smiles and looks at my dad. “I told you a meal would help.”
I shake my head at both of them and we finish up eating. I laugh harder than I have in a long time. AJ’s stories of high school and antics his mom is up to in order to spend more time with him keep us rolling. He and my dad have an easiness to their relationship and I realize I’m actually grateful the old man has had someone around him while I’ve been gone. I’ll never have that with him, not with the history between us. Even if I could forgive his awful parenting, I’ll never forget the way he spoke to me and wished I was dead rather than my brother.
When he walks me to the door at the end of the night, guilt is rooting around in my chest, burrowing into the muscle and flesh, threatening to flay me alive.
“I don’t blame you for hating me, Colt,” Dad finally says, his eyes glancing at mine. “I fell apart when Alex died and then your mother. I know the mistakes I made, but my biggest regret is the way I let you leave that night. I never should have raised my hand to you. That’s not how a parent should treat his child.”
“It’s in the past, Dad.” I shake my head, fearing the burning in my eyes.
“Be that as it may, you and I both know I have a lot to make up for. I don’t expect to just become a part of your life again, but I do hope you might want to stop by more often. This was the best night I’ve had in years. Both my boys,” he tells me, his eyes burning brightly into my own.
“I can’t believe how grown up he is.” I nod back to the house.
“I can’t believe how grown up both of you are,” he chuckles. “I’m proud of you, Colt. You scared the living shit out of me with your decision to enlist, but I respect it. It took me a long time to realize my own fears were normal. I don’t know what I would have done if I had lost you, too.”
“You have AJ.” I shrug, trying to push the emotions away that his words are stirring up. I am nothing to be proud of. My enlistment came on the heels of my biggest disappointment and then I hurt the one person who loved me above all else.
“AJ is AJ. You are you. I love you both,” he replies, voice gruff, and I swear he may cry too.
“Let me know when you make that chicken masala again. I’ll make the time.” My hand clasps his shoulder and he nods. A small tear falling down the stubble of his cheek before he wipes it away.
“You staying in town tonight?”
“Probably crash at Zane’s after we go out,” I tell him. I see him grimace. “What?”
“Ah, it’s probably nothing.” His hand rubs the back of his neck. “Just stay out of the park, maybe.”
“Okay.” I laugh it off, giving him a final wave before getting in my truck. One look in my rearview and I can see him still standing outside watching the vehicle drive away. I don’t know how it makes me feel. Everything that happened tonight conflicts with what I’ve believed for the past eight years. Time might wash away the hurt, but the memories will still be there. I can forgive him for falling apart, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let it all go.
I pull my phone out to call Zane and let him know I’m on the way and we end up talking about how dinner went.
“How did things end?” Zane asks, laughing with me about how bizarre this night turned out.
“He told me to avoid the park,” I chuckle again. After a beat, I realize Zane isn’t laughing with me. “Z, what’s up?”
“Ahhh...” He sighs into the phone. “Look something happened after we left. I only know because my mom wrote to me about it on one of my deployments. It’s about Lyric, Colt.”
Now he has my full attention. I sit up farther in my seat. “What about her?”
“You know your tree? The one you carved your initials in?”
“Yeah,” I tell him. “I remember.”
“She hacked the thing apart. Broad daylight, just took an axe to the whole trunk. City fire department had to come in and use a chainsaw to take it out before it became a hazard.”
I hear his words even as the buzzing in my ears grows louder. I can’t picture my Lyric doing that. That was our spot. The place I asked her to be mine, where I first told her I loved her. Lyric was always sentimental; I just can’t picture it, her doing that to our tree.
“You left her a mess, man. I will always regret that we didn't tell her the real reason you enlisted.” Zane’s words slip out slowly.
“You and me both,” I answer before hanging up. Zane’s confession is tearing me apart. I don’t feel like partying tonight. I can’t think about being around anyone. My time with Lyric flashes in my mind, replaying like a movie trailer, and each frame is another punch to the gut. It ends with that look she gave me that day. I hear her words accusing me of sleeping with that other girl. I didn’t. I would never have cheated on Lyric, or slept with someone else so soon after. I broke up with her to push her away and let her believe it all the same. In my mind at the time, I just needed a reason to get her to walk away from me. I can still see the pain amplified in her blue eyes while tears trailed down her cheeks when I got my wish. I did that to her. I ruined the girl I loved.
It becomes clear I need to get the fuck out of this town. All the good I felt by being at home is now replaced with the feeling I’m being stabbed by a knife in my chest. My fingers quickly pull my cell phone out and I call the one number I’ve been thinking about all night.
“Street,” he answers on the second ring.
“Tric had things he wanted his father to know. I won’t sit here and pretend that at the end of his life he didn’t care about his family because he did. Even though none of you deserved it or him, he still planned to come back when he was discharged.” I practically seethe down the line.
There’s a pause before a long exhale follows. “You know where the clubhouse is?”
“I thought we weren’t allowed there?”
“Family is always welcome, kid. You’re Tric’s family.”