It takes me three days to gather the courage to go to the clubhouse. I need something in my life, and if Wilson says that this can be that something for me, I'm going to take advantage. I ride Lucy through the windy streets until finally, I end up in a shadier side of town where there are weeds springing up from between the asphalt. I pull up to a brick building with at least six bikes sitting out front called Brotherhood Bar and Billiards. The door’s wide open and there's a neon sign flashing in the front window telling me that they’re open. I doubt many people stop by here that aren’t part of the brotherhood—it doesn't seem like a place that you would just pop in for a drink. But that's not what I'm here for either. I'm here to find my place.

I set my helmet on top of the handlebars, still feeling the low rumble of the bike underneath me before I shut her down and step off. I don't even get to the front door before Wilson walks out, extending a hand to me and clapping me on the back.

"Good to see you, man! I've told all the guys about you, and they’re looking forward to meeting you."

I take a deep breath before speaking. "I'm looking forward to meeting them too, but you're sure about this, right? About what they do here?"

Wilson nods his head. "You're going to fit right in, trust me."

We step over the threshold into the bar, and I can smell stale beer and something similar to sweat. I hope they don't actually serve food here, because I'd never be able to eat it. There's a mountainous man standing behind the bar and a group of guys about twice my age sitting at a table in front of it. They're silent as I enter.

"Everybody, this is Jett Stewart. Stewart, these are the guys. The elders of the brotherhood. They determine whether or not you get to stay," Wilson says, introducing me.

I make my way around the table, shaking hands and looking into the eyes of the men who fought wars before me. It's a humbling moment. Most of them have salt-and-pepper hair and graying beards. They came home and they survived, even making something of themselves. That gives me a chance. And hope.

"Sit down, son," one guy with a black vest on says. I look around the table and notice they all have black vests, everyone except the bartender, Wilson, and me.

"What is it that Wilson told you about us?"

I look into the older man's steely blue eyes. "Not much, honestly. Just that you provide a place for guys like me."

Another man speaks up. "A wanderer? Is that what you are, kid?"

I shrug. "I'm just looking for my place. I'd be happy with a nice, cozy life. A beer, some friends, and a woman who loves me." As the last words escape my lips, I think about Cami. About how I left her all those years ago. We wrote back and forth for a while, but then she stopped responding. Or maybe my letters got lost, I'm not sure. But it's not like when I came home I immediately went chasing after her. It's not like I drove by her old childhood home only to realize she doesn't live there anymore.

No, I don't do those things. I know she's moved on. She has every right to. And maybe the brotherhood is my chance to move on, too.

"We’re not your average biker gang and we’re not a true MC either. This isn’t shit you see on TV."

The men around the table all nod in unison. "But we do things, things that other people don't want the responsibility of. We take care of our town. And we sure as hell take care of the Brothers that are in it."

I nod understandingly. They're telling me that I might get hurt doing whatever it is that they do here. They're telling me to once again put others before myself, just like in the military. I know how to do that. I can take one for the team. This might be a good option for me after all.

"I understand. So what do I have to do? How do I get in?"

One of the men puts his hands up in protest. "Now you slow down there, son. We have to vote. And not with you here. But once we vote, we’ll be in touch, give you some tasks to do. Wilson will take you under his wing, since he invited you. Show you the ropes. Keep you focused on the end goal of becoming a member. Of becoming a Brother." They all raise their glasses at the last word. Clearly being a Brother is an honor. I like the sound of that.

The first man who spoke, the one with the blue eyes, stands up, and the rest of the men stand to match him. I get that the interview, however short, is over. He shakes my hand and gives me a small smile. I stand as well and grip his hand tightly to let him know that I'm serious about this. I want in. I take that as my cue to leave, and Wilson follows me out front to Lucy. I climb on and kick her into life.

"That was fucking great, man!" Wilson says, looking at me excitedly.

"Did it? Couldn't really get a good read on the old guys."

Wilson leans closer to me. "Last time, they didn't even let the guy sit down. They must've gotten a good vibe from you, or maybe it's because I talked you up." He laughs.

"Well, thanks for that, man. Hopefully you only told them the good stuff."

"Oh, definitely just the good stuff. And I might've mentioned that one party in high school where I think you did body shots off of the entire girls’ soccer team. That was epic! Just the type of shit that we do around here to stay relaxed.”

I laugh as he hits me on the back, and he walks back towards the bar. I put on my helmet and I think about where to go next. Do I drive past her house one more time?

No. I think it's time to let her go.

I have to let her go.