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“I like him,” I heard her mom say as the screen door swung closed.

I walked next to Russ to the garage. He shifted his gaze toward the patch on my cut. “You prefer Steele over Brett.”

I squinted against the sun. “Yeah, by everyone except your daughter.”

He nodded. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard her laugh or seen a real smile on her face.”

“I’d like to think I’m responsible for some of that happiness.” As I walked into the garage with him, my phone vibrated. “But it might have something to do with the motorcycle.” I pulled out my phone.

Bullet: Board wants to meet.

I spoke to Russ as I responded to the text.

Steele: When?

“A Sunday morning ride can make anyone in a better mood,” I said. And betrayal of a brother, to break confidence, could turn a great day to shit. Once I’d spoken to Vega and Bullet, I’d known the meeting was coming. Silence would make me complicit, and I was done with that shit.

“I’m more of a car guy,” he said as we walked into the garage.

I whistled long and low. “What year is it? ’69?”

An old Chevy truck had her hood up. Most of the body had been sanded, patched with Bondo, and primed. The back end was on blocks. The interior had been gutted.

My phone vibrated again.

Bullet: Now

“’72 Chevy C10,” Russ said. “Just like the one I had in high school.” He opened the squeaking driver’s door.

Fuck. I couldn’t be at two places at once, and today was important to Jaymi. But so was Kodiak. I’d gone to Bullet and agreed with him that we needed to go to the board. If I left now I was still over an hour away. I glanced at Russ.

“Picked it up for a fun project. Thought Ryan would want to help his old man restore it.” His voice took on an animated pitch as he talked about Ryan and the truck.

I wasn’t leaving. Nothing about Kodiak and the board would change in the next few hours. Maybe I’d learned a few lessons the hard way. I’d put the MC first too many times with Natalie. I wasn’t going to fuck up what I had with Jaymi.

Steele: I’m out of pocket. Later tonight?

“Turns out rebuilding engines and buffing out rusted fenders feels like work to him.” Russ stared at the phone in my hand and must’ve noticed the change in my mood. “Everything okay?

“Just work.” I didn’t wait for a response from Bullet. I slipped the phone into my pocket. Choices. I’d just made mine. I peered into the truck. “How long have you been working on her?”

Russ leaned his arms along the edge of the open window. “We don’t want to talk about that.” He laughed. “Little over three years. Engine, axels, transmission. It all needs done. I’ve got a lot of the parts over here.” A set of steel shelves held replacement parts and tools.

“Is she running?” I asked.

“She does, but not well.” Russ turned over the ignition. The engine sputtered and popped.

“I’m not much of a mechanic,” I said, peering into the engine. “I’ve mostly worked on bikes, and primarily out of necessity.”

“What I don’t know, I learn from YouTube.” Russ gave her a little gas. “She’s got spark, and she’s got air.”

I leaned over the engine and listened. “It sounds like the carb is coughing. Your timing might be off.”

“She’s one bolt away from becoming a yard ornament.” Russ grabbed a tool and started working on the truck. Taking the cue, I ignored my phone because a text wasn’t going to change my mind. I shrugged out of my cut, draped it over the back of a chair in the corner, and got to work.

Russ pointed out what he wanted me to do. While we worked on the truck, he asked about my past, my kid, and what went wrong in my marriage.

“I’ve got no excuses. I was too rebellious.” I’d neglected my wife and my responsibilities putting the Crawlers first. I had a better marriage with my brothers than I’d had with my old lady. I’d given everything to the MC, and it wasn’t worth the cost. I wanted what Rogue had with Jazzy and what Bullet had found with Stormy. I wore Heller colors because they represented everything I’d ever wanted. Guys I could call brothers and a club that was family. “I’ve had to make a lot of changes in my life.”