When he saw me carrying Drew’s smaller one, his eyes filled.
“I thought the club should keep this,” I said.
Wade shook his head gently.
“Bridget, he was one of us. But that belongs with his mother.”
He showed me a photograph mounted inside their meeting room.
It was Drew on the day of the ceremony, grinning between Dr. Harris and the other bikers.
Publicidad
Under it were the words “Our Brother, Always.”
I touched the photograph.
For years, I’d worried that I couldn’t give Drew everything he needed.
I’d been so afraid of failing him that I’d forgotten love was never something one person had to provide alone.
The tattooed doctor I’d once wanted to avoid had given my son a family of men who kept their promises.
And my boy had helped that doctor find his way back to the people he’d lost touch with.
As the engines started, Dr. Harris stepped beside me.
