But then I remember the smell of her hair and the feel of her legs wrapped around my body, and my heart lurches in my chest. For a moment, I hoped that I could lead a normal life—a happy one where I had far more than I deserved. A life that made me want to be better. A life where the only thing I was getting high on was Sierra.

That life is gone now.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t still make some changes for the better. As I make my way back to my apartment, I pull out my phone and open a group message that has been silent for too long.

Meet at the shop in fifteen.

They don’t answer, but I can see that they read it. Whether they’ll show or not, I don’t know, but if they’re anything like they used to be, there is nothing that will stop them from showing.

As soon as I enter my apartment, my phone pings in my pocket.

About fucking time.

Saved in my phone as RC, I smile when I read it. I had a feeling he’d be the easiest to convince.

I’m getting distracted. What I need is shoved in the back of my closet, but I have to prepare myself before I pull it out. Taking a deep breath, I flick on the light and stare at the old cardboard box hidden under the old tattoo supplies. I can smell the worn leather before I even lift the flaps, but my breath hitches in my throat when I do.

Laying folded at the top is the familiar black leather jacket that I remembered. How many times was he wearing it when he pulled me into a tight hug? Or when he slammed me against the wall for being a rebellious shithead?

The biggest question swimming around the back of my mind as I stare at it: did I even deserve to put it on?

Sierra would think so.

When I unfold the leather, my fingers run across the Wicked MC patch across the chest. I feel a laugh bubble up from my chest when I remember the day Theo had them made for him and the guys. How young they were then. All foster care kids, they found each other, desperate for a family and someone to always have each other’s back. The motorcycle club idea started out as a joke. Then, it became something more.

Until he died.

Then, it ended.

My phone pings again. I stare down at a message from Murph.

Ready when you are.

He would be harder to answer to, but it was time to face the music. I have some repenting to do, and there is no better time than now.

Folding the jacket under my arm, I bolt out of the apartment and get back to the shop.

The guys are already there when I show up. The curtains of the shop are pulled closed and their eyes watch me coldly as I walk in.