Page 39 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

It was six o’clock on Christmas Day.

Everyone was home spending time with their families—or should be.

Our own family had gone home after we’d asked them to, even though they hadn’t wanted to.

Mary had wanted a night with just me, and I was more than happy to give it to her after the amount of people we’d had at our house over the last month after she’d said she wanted to stop treatments.

Her decline had happened fast after that.

She’d held on only because it was the holidays.

Secretly, I knew it was because she wanted to give me one last Christmas and anniversary with her there.

I knew that she’d held on as long as she had because of me.

My sweet heart. My best friend.

“Ready to ride, sweet thing?” I asked as I started the bike up.

She gave me a smile, then allowed her head to fall back against the head rest.

At first, she’d hated the side car on my bike.

She’d missed being up against me.

I’d hated it, too. But I’d do anything to keep her close to me, and if I couldn’t have her on the back of my bike, on the side of it would do just fine.

We started slowly out of the driveway, my eyes and ears alert as I watched her and our surroundings.

The farther we got out of the city, the more she smiled.

Her cheeks were a bright red, but that smile was still in place.

The sound of bikes had me glancing up to my rearview mirror, and sure enough, my brothers hadn’t let me take this final ride alone.

They surrounded us, just like they’d done a hundred times before.

I nearly cried when I saw Stetson and Jonesy, Sage, Bomber, Copper and many others joining us.

“Ohh,” I heard my Mary with the wind.

I looked down and over at Mary to see the most serene smile on her face.

She looked up at me, then offered me her hand. “Let’s really ride. One last time.”

I closed my eyes, then throttled the bike up and took off.

The members of the Dixie Wardens MC kept pace. Some Tuscaloosa. Others the new Benton chapter.

All of them my brothers.

My wife, Mary, let out a laugh, as I opened it up.

I didn’t look over again, though.

I couldn’t.

Because I knew.

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