Page 50 of Resilience

Dex was generally crabby, but since he’d married Kelsey and they’d had Tildy, he was especially short-tempered when he had to leave town. And now Kelsey was pregnant with their second, so he was basically a rabid grizzly, even though she wasn’t due until close to Thanksgiving and everything, as far as Sam knew, was going as it should.

Sam was pissed, too, but he kept his feelings to himself. No point in poking a rabid grizzly.

A long run generally pulled two drivers, and the drivers usually got to bring their bikes. The one driving loaded his bike in the back, or they brought a trailer to tow it. Or the drivers shared a bike for the run, taking turns in the cage and on the bike.

Dex had just told them that neither of them would have a bike; they were both in the truck for the whole run, driving or riding shotgun all the way.

Caged the whole time in the cab was, no question, the worst possible way to experience a run.

“No complaint,” Monty groused, eking out some self-preservation just in the nick of time.

“We need you both in the cab for this run,” Fitz explained. He was a lot more patient than Dex. Also, he was Sam’s sponsor, and he treated the role like a teacher. “Just to be on the safe side. We’re not moving the usual shit this time.”

“What are we moving?” Sam asked.

“None of your business, kid,” Dex said. He didn’t quite bark, but he was obviously not in the mood for questions this morning. The family men all hated saying goodbye—the club line was ‘always say goodbye like it’s your last chance to do it, because someday it might be’—but Dex let it show in a way the others didn’t.

Sam nodded and stopped asking questions.

“You both carrying?” Gunner asked. Sam opened his kutte to show the Sig P226 holstered under his arm. Monty showed his Glock.

Sam was a good shot with handguns and rifles; his father had taught him and Mason to shoot when they were still little. But he’d never fired at anything but cans, bottles, and paper targets and wasn’t in a big hurry to change that up.

“Let’s ride,” Dex called, and everybody mounted up or climbed in. Everybody on this crew could handle a long ride in the saddle, so they’d be two days to Laughlin, doing about eight hundred miles a day. After an overnight with the Nevada Bulls, they’d do two days back.

Monty got behind the wheel, so Sam climbed up to sit shotgun. As Monty started the van and pulled to the gate, Sam took out his personal and texted Athena.

We’re riding out. Is it weird if I

say I’m thinking about you nonstop this

morning? I’m going to miss you, Frodo.

Sorry I’m going to miss your bday

It was early, but Athena worked at a school and got to work before eight in the morning, so he wasn’t surprised that she was up to read his text right away.

We’ll celebrate when you get back.

And it’s not weird at all. I’m the same.

Be safe, Samwise. FT me when you

get to the motel tonight. xoxo

She often ended a text with hugs and kisses, so he was probably making too much of them this morning, but they hit different now. Before they’d described the feelings of his best friend. Now they described the feelings of his girlfriend.

“There’s that shit-eating grin again,” Monty said, grinning himself. “My dude, I can almost see hearts and flowers dancing around your head like you’re Bugs Bunny or some shit. Who is this girl?”

“Mind your business, Monty,” Sam said and put his phone away.

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~oOo~

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“It was fine,” Sam told Athena. “But Monty’s farts should be registered as weapons of mass destruction.”

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