It’s funny how quickly life returns to normal after you’ve been gone for a while. It didn’t even take me a week to fall back into my normal routine like I’d never been gone at all.

I’m making my usual protection rounds, going around to all the businesses we watch out for and getting updates from the owners. I’ve pretty much finished the rounds, and ended up here at the Downtown Diner, where a bunch of the brothers are already gathered for a big, greasy hangover breakfast-for-lunch. The partying last night at the clubhouse got a little out of hand, even for us, and more than a few of the men must have some wicked hangovers.

Last night was a good thing for the club, though. After the tensions of the past few weeks, it seemed like last night the fever seemed to break a little, and we were back to partying like brothers. Like a family. I have no illusions that some of the hard feelings about which direction to look for new business have evaporated. I know that’s not the case. But I’m hoping they’re not a sign of a bigger rift to come.

We’re sitting around a big table in the back of the diner, and Tweak is telling some fucking ridiculous story — probably half made-up — about some guy he went to high school with who got pulled over for speeding when he’d been drinking.

“The stupid fucker put a handful of change in his mouth, because someone had told him that copper and silver make the smell of alcohol go away,” Tweak is saying, already laughing and shaking his head. “Turns out, he can’t get the coins out of his mouth before the cop shows up and has him roll down his window. So when the cop starts asking him questions, the guy starts choking and spitting the coins out of his mouth like a slot machine!”

Tweak barely gets the last words out before he’s shaking with laughter, slamming his hand down on the table like he can’t get his breath. The other guys are laughing, too, because watching Tweak tell his stories is almost always more entertaining than the stories themselves.

Anyway, it’s still good to be there laughing with the brothers, even if I’m mostly laughing because Tweak’s full of shit. He’s swearing up and down, insisting it’s true, when I happen to glance over and see a girl sitting at a booth over by the front door.

For a second my brain doesn’t quite register who it is. Then I realize why.

It’s Jenna Abbott. There’s no mistaking that body.

But her hair’s s totally different. It’s a dark brown, instead of the honey blond I remember her having. She must have dyed it.

It looks… good. Hot, even. My dick thickens in my pants in agreement with my brain.

But it’s weird to see her as a brunette. So even though I know it’s her, I keep staring, then trying not to stare and looking away, then cutting my eyes back at her and staring again.

The years have definitely been good to her. She’s changed a little bit — the angles in her face are a little more pronounced, and she’s lost some of her adolescent softness. Her waist is slimmer, her breasts fuller. But one thing is the same: she's still a fucking knockout.

Something else has changed, too — so subtle that at first I don’t notice it. It’s something about the way she’s holding herself. Tightly, almost like she's afraid she'll shatter. She sits, almost ramrod straight, the cup of coffee she’s ordered clutched in both hands. The way she’s holding that mug, it looks like she’s almost afraid it will fly away if she lets go of it.

This isn’t the carefree girl I remember from when we were kids, I can tell right away. The girl who never seemed to take anything all that seriously. This Jenna looks like she’s carrying the weight of the whole world on her shoulders. Looking at her now, it makes me wonder what life has done to her in the last five years, to change her like this. It makes me wish I could turn back time for her, and make all the bad things go away.

At first, I think Jenna hasn’t noticed me or the brothers back here. I feel myself gathering my legs under me, getting ready to go up and say hello to her. Then, just as I’m shifting my weight, she glances over. Somehow, just by the way she locks eyes with me, I realize she knew I was here all along. I give her a slight nod and she nervously looks away toward the other side of the booth. I start to stand, and my eyes follow hers to see what she’s looking at.

And realize that I’ve been staring at her so intently I didn’t even see there’s someone else sitting there with her.

It’s a little boy, with brown hair. He’s coloring on a placemat. A small bowl with a spoon in it is sitting next to him.

Her kid. Just like Angel said. Somehow, seeing her like that, I’d forgotten.

And then, for some reason, I shift my weight back into my chair and don’t go over.