Page 25 of Memphis

“I did.” I shrugged. “I do.”

“Then, help him. He needs you.”

“Needs me to do what?”

“Go to him. Remind him he has something to fight for.” He kept his eyes trained on me as he stood and said, “And before you start throwing out excuses, know what it took for me to come here. I put a lot on the line, and I did that because I think you’re the only one who can get my son back on track.”

“Why me?”

“I know my son. There have only been a few times when I’ve seen a true fire in his eyes, and one of those times was when he was talking about you. I just need you to remind him of that fire.”

“I think you’ve overestimated the effect I have on Weston. I aggravate him more than anything, and even if I had the capability of bringing back that fire or reminding him of it, I just can’t do it.” I motioned my hand to the stack of files on my desk. “I have all this work. I’ve only been here a few months. I can’t just up and leave it all behind.”

“I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this but...” He reached into the side pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out an envelope. He tossed it on my desk as he said, “Maybe this will persuade you.”

“What is this?” I quickly opened it, and my breath caught when I saw my father’s name at the top of the page. It was a financial report, and it was covered in red. Dad had never mentioned having money troubles, so I looked up at Preacher and asked, “Is this real?”

“Afraid so,” he answered. "Your mother’s medical bills and funeral hit him hard, and then, add in your college expenses, and things went south fast.” He crossed his arms with determination. “I have the means to turn things around for him.”

“You have the means to fix this?”

“I do.”

It wasn’t just a few hundred dollars he was talking about. It was thousands upon thousands. It was more money than I could imagine, and I couldn’t fathom how a biker—no matter how rough and tough—could come up with that kind of cash. “But how?”

“Not gettin’ into that. All I can tell you is that it will be handled as soon as Weston is back on his feet.”

“How did you get this? My father hasn’t mentioned having any money troubles at all.”

“I have my ways. I just need to know if you will help my boy.”

I stared at him, still unsettled by the news of my father’s troubles. “Okay. I guess I have no choice but to give it a try.”

“You can’t go into this with that kind of attitude. Wes is even more bull-headed than me, and that’s saying something. So, I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s gonna give you hell.” Preacher took a step towards my desk. “He’s going to fight you every step of the way, and I mean fight. He’s going to tell you he doesn’t want you there, and he will try his damnedest to hurt your feelings and make you feel as bad as he does. But you’ve gotta be strong enough to keep pushing.”

“Boy, you really know how to sweet talk a girl.”

“Just telling ya like it is. You need to know what you’re getting into here.” His eyes filled with emotion as he told me, “It’s gonna be tough, but you’ve got to hold onto the thought that there are two men who are counting on you.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ve got it.” I glanced down at my desk as I told him, “I have a few things to tie up here, but I should be able to be there for afternoon visiting hours.”

“Perfect. He’s at Cain Creek. It’s one street over from the main hospital.” He started for the door but quickly stopped and turned to face me. “One more thing. You might not wanna tell him that I came here today. I’m not saying you can’t. You do what you gotta do, but this whole thing will work better if he thinks it was your idea.”

“Understood.”

He thanked me, said goodbye, and was on his way.

I kept my promise and arrived well before visiting hours were over, but Wes wasn’t exactly happy to see me. In fact, he was furious that I’d come, so much so, he called the front desk and had Jess come get him for therapy.

While I was pleased that he’d gone, I hated that he was so angry with me. He wouldn’t even look at me as she wheeled him out of the room. I just sat there in the corner, watching the sun as it started to set. It wouldn’t be long before it was dark out, and I had no clue where I was staying tonight or even how long I would be staying.

Weston had made it clear that he wanted me gone, but I was staying put until I knew he was making progress. And that could be a matter of a few days or as much as a month or more. I was trying to forge a plan when the door creaked open, and Weston and his physical therapist appeared.

His face was flushed, and his hair was damp with sweat. I could tell from his expression that he was wiped out, but he kepta determined glare as the nurse maneuvered his wheelchair over to the bed. I jumped up to help but stopped the second I noticed Weston’s heated expression.

It was clear he didn’t want my help, so I sat back down and watched as the nurse eased Weston out of the wheelchair. She supported him as he shifted from the seat to the bed. With a grunt, Weston lowered himself onto the bed, and Jess quickly adjusted the pillows behind him.

I could see the strain on his face as he inched his way back, and it was all I could do to keep myself from going over to him. Once he was finally settled, Jess placed her hand on his knee and said, “You did good today.”

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