A few days later, my father and a couple members of the Sacred Hearts showed up on our doorstep. They saw the shape I was in and asked if Weasel did that. I said he did. They dragged him out of there, and I never saw him again. Each motorcycle club has its own moral codes, and it appeared he had stepped over the line drawn by the Sacred Hearts.

I was left on my own, which might well have been the best thing that ever happened to me. I moved back in with my dad. I fended off the advances of several other guys wanting a piece of what Weasel had.

I finally admitted this wasn’t the life I’d envisioned for myself. I wasn’t nearly as tough and strong as I claimed to be.

I called Jock in tears, and he immediately opened up his home to me. I had a safe place to live, and for the first time, I was part of a family. Even though Bria was a pain in my ass, I tolerated her, and she had tolerated me to some extent.

Jock suspected she slept around, but he lived in this bubble where, if it didn’t directly affect him, he pretended it didn’t exist. He’d been raised by a single father, and he’d come to the conclusion a bad mother was better than no mother.

So much for that.

Jock had talked to management, and they offered me a temporary job as an equipment intern for the current season. I’d gladly accepted. I’d be traveling with the team, and I’d never been anywhere. I’d have a different worldview than the small one I’d had previously. I was ready to spread my wings and see what life had to offer outside the motorcycle crowd.

Being an equipment intern wasn’t a glamorous job. It was hard work with long hours. The team’s equipment manager, Roy Solstice, was a taskmaster and a perfectionist. I didn’t mind. He was also fair and a truly nice guy. Since I was the newcomer with the least amount of experience, the grunt jobs were assigned to me. Again, I was okay with that. I’d washed and folded more loads of towels in the few weeks I’d been there than I’d done in a year. I’d always gotten along better with men than women, and being around a hockey team was more enjoyable than I’d imagined.

I dragged my ass home at about nine thirty that night, which was early compared to game nights or road trips. I quietly let myself into my brother’s house and headed for the stairs. I caught movement in the living room out of the corner of my eye and made a detour. I stood in the doorway, letting my eyes adjust to the dark.

Jock was sitting in a recliner staring out the window. I switched on a lamp as I entered the room. He turned to me and gave me a sad smile. Without a word, I poured myself a whiskey from the small liquor cabinet and took a seat on the couch across from him.