Page 39 of My Veteran Biker

"Not yet. Let me talk to him first. Prepare him."

"For what?"

"For you. For the fact that I'm with someone. For the motorcycle club thing."

Knox's expression doesn't change but I see something tighten around his eyes. "You embarrassed?"

"No. Just realistic. My dad's been sick for six months and I haven't been here to help him. Now I show up and within four days I'm sleeping with the guy next door who happens to be in a motorcycle club. That's a lot to process."

"Fair enough."

I kiss him goodbye and walk back to my rental to change clothes.

The house feels strange after spending the night at Knox's. Too empty, too quiet, like I've already started thinking of the other place as home.

I change into clean jeans and a loose green blouse, pull my hair into a ponytail, and walk the three houses to Dad's.

He's on the porch when I arrive, sitting in the chair he's had since before Mom died.

His hands are shaking worse than they were Friday, trembling visibly even when he rests them on the armrests.

"Morning, Frannie."

"Morning, Dad."

I sit in the chair beside him and we look out at the street together.

"You settling in okay?" Dad asks.

"Yeah. The rental's fine. AC doesn't work great but it's manageable."

"Is Knox next door treating you all right?"

My stomach clenches. "You knew he was there when you told me about the rental."

"Figured you'd find out soon enough."

"Did you think we'd get back together?"

Dad's quiet for a moment. The tremor in his hands gets worse and he tucks them under his thighs, trying to hide it.

"Hoped, maybe," he says. "That boy loved you something fierce when you were young. Hurt like hell when you left but he never said a bad word about you. Never blamed you for going. I always thought that said something about his character."

"We're together now."

Dad nods like this isn't news. "Figured. You've got that look."

"What look?"

"Same one your mother had. Like you've made up your mind about something and the rest of us better just adjust."

I smile despite myself. "He's in a motorcycle club, Dad. Vigil MC. You know them?"

"Everyone knows them. They keep Bloomfield safe. Had some trouble lately with another club but they handle their business."

"Handling their business means people die."

Dad looks at me then, really looks, and I see the man who raised me alone after Mom's heart gave out in the garden. The man who taught me to change a tire and balance a checkbook and stand up for myself even when it was hard.