Drew reached for the vest with trembling hands.
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“Is this really mine?”
“Sure is.”
When Wade helped him put it on, every biker applauded.
I started crying before I could stop myself.
Dr. Harris explained that he’d cleared the visit with the hospital staff.
If Drew felt well enough later that week, the nurses could help us take him outside for a short ceremony where the bikers would bring their motorcycles.
But something happened before the men left.
Drew noticed the second leather vest Wade had placed on a chair.
It was older than his, with faded patches and worn seams.
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“That’s yours, right, Doc?”
Dr. Harris looked toward the chair.
His expression changed.
“Yeah,” he said quietly.
“Then put it on.”
For the first time since I’d met him, Dr. Harris seemed unable to find an answer.
“Not today, buddy.”
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Drew looked disappointed.
“But you said…”
