Michele

It’s all a blur. The wind blows, the road passes by. We ride just far enough outside of Chicago to be free of the city traffic and I assume Javi’s connections.

The place we stop is a small A-frame entrance to a single story motel. I climb off Sonnie’s bike wishing I knew what was going on with Jackson.

In a whirl of activity, a man who wears a cut with the name Judge comes out handing Sonnie and me separate keys to rooms.

A blonde woman walks over to me carrying my bag. “I’m Tamalyn, Judge is my man. Let’s get you in your room till Rowdy gets here.”

“How will he know where to go?”

“The boys have all the information. Promise you, they’ll get here.”

Nervously, I follow. It’s hard to blindly trust people. The nagging voice in the back of my head reminds me I trusted Bates and landed myself in a bigger mess. This is different, though, this is Jackson’s family. He trusts them. If I want a second chance with him, these people will be in my life.

Following her, we go into a small room with one bed, no television, and a small bathroom off the back. The room is painted in a cream with a dark burgundy and hunter green boarder that is peeling at the top. The pillows on the bed only raise up to make a small bump in the hunter green comforter.

“Not the best room, but no bugs so that’s a good sign. Judge says since Collector brought Sonnie on the road with the guys they make sure they stay at places that are economical but without bugs.” She is relaxed considering we just left Jackson behind to deal with Cartel bosses and who knows what is happening now.

“Good to know,” I say quietly.

“I know this is a lot to take in. You were apart for so long and swoosh Rowdy shows up and suddenly all the feelings you thought were gone are back in your face.”

“Sounds like you speak from experience.”

She laughs lightly. “It’s so cliché. The boy next door. Literally Judge grew up next door to me. We had a rough start in life, but he was my saving grace.”

My body is delicately sore from time reconnecting with Jackson this morning. My mind is still worried over him. I cover all that up and smile at the woman who is trying to give me comfort in a losing situation. “Childhood sweethearts, I think that’s adorable.”

“Actually, we were apart for a long time. My cousin runs a women’s shelter. I spent time with her while Judge took off with Collector, Rowdy, and the Devil’s Due MC.”

Feeling awkward just standing, I sit on the edge of the bed when there is a knock at the door to my room. Tamalyn goes to it and checks the peephole before opening it up. In walks Sonnie and the other woman who came here with us.

She extends her hand to me, “Hi Michele, I’m Hadley. My man is X.” She has hair so dark it makes me wonder if she buys a bottle of hair dye for it to be so perfectly black. Her face is flawless with a single mole above her lip drawing attention to her perfect pout. She is beautiful.

“This is a lot to take in,” I admit. “I feel like everyone knows about me and I know nothing about Jackson’s life and all his friends.”

“Family,” Hadley corrects. “We’re a family of our own making. I grew up on the streets of N’awlin’s.”

My eyes grow big. “New Orleans, like Bourbon street and drive thru daiquiris?”

Hadley smiles and I find myself staring at her mole infatuated. “The one and only. X, who is named Owen and I were homeless together as teens. Some shit happened and we were separated. But since life gave us a second chance together, I’m not wasting a single second being without him.”

Sonnie sits beside me. “Well, I’m from Cloverville like you. Raleigh Ragnes was my best friend and Collector, that’s his roadname, Dover was her big brother.”

Tamalyn laughs, “we’ve all fallen for our best friend’s big brother at some point. Only Sonnie gets to find happily ever after with it.”

Sonnie sighs, “yeah, I do. Anyhow, I know Rowdy’s case is why Collector stopped being a cop. He didn’t like being part of an injustice. Now the guys have made their own way and serve justice their way. I know it’s scary and hard to come to terms with, but I promise you the guys will be back soon and whatever you’ve gotten yourself into will disappear.”

I try to process their stories. “Do you guys work? How do you pay bills?”

“I’m a tattoo artist,” Sonnie answers first. “I do conventions or pop up shops depending on where we are and what we have going on. I hope we go back to Alabama for a bit though, I’m missing the shop I used to work at, my house, and my fish.”

This gets my attention. “You have a house but don’t live there?”

“Yeah, Trapper’s got a friend watchin’ it for us, but Alabama seems to be home for most of us. Hadley has a friend who lives at the shelter Tamalyn’s cousin owns so we do make our way to Tennessee and Haven’s Harbor regularly.”

Taking in what they’re telling me, I am in shock. “Feels like a modern day gypsy life.”

Hadley laughs and it sounds like a natural melody. “Nomads, we’re nomads. We roam. Wanders,” she explains proudly.

I don’t get to ask anything more because outside I hear the sounds of motorcycles pulling up. Rushing to the door, I don’t stop even as the women try to grab me and hold me back.

I hit the parking lot and stand in awe as Jackson pulls up with his hair blowing behind him from under his helmet. The bike comes to a stop and I don’t wait to go straight to him. He removes his helmet as I wrap my hands around his neck and press my lips to his.

My tongue touches his and I find my peace. This is home. This is forever. This is real.

Never again will I lose faith in this man, in our love. Squeezing him tight, I make a simple promise to myself.

Never be without Jackson Joseph Presley again. They call him Rowdy, I call him my husband. Either way right now without a doubt, even with a thousand questions between us, I am determined to make our second chance the kind that lasts the lifetime we promised so long ago.