Page 47 of Thornhill Road

It had been twenty years, but it still touched me to hear him say it.

Wanting him to share the feeling, I murmured, “Sorry about yours, too.”

“What about your dad? He still in Casper?”

I shook my head, the reminder of this loss a little closer to the surface than the other.

“He died when I was twenty-one. Brain aneurysm.”

“Fuck, Tess,” he muttered with a scowl.

“It’s funny—I had months to say goodbye to my mom and no time at all to say goodbye to dad, but either way, they both sucked the same.”

“And your brother?” he asked, still scowling.

Happy to talk about the living, I shifted in my seat and reached up to sweep a bit of hair behind my ear as I answered, “Andy. He’s a pilot in the Air Force and currently stationed in Abilene, Texas. It might be totally naïve, but I like to think being a pilot in the military is marginally safer than any other job out in the field. And if I’m wrong, I don’t want to know because I can’t imagine losing him in the line of duty, and I’d rather just be proud than worried about him all the time. We’re all each other has left.”

He wasstillscowling, as if he really didn’t like it that I’d endured so much loss, but I didn’t want to talk about death anymore.

Glancing at the hand that was rested casually on the bar, I brazenly grazed my fingers across the ink on his knuckles and insisted, “Tell me about Mary-Kate.”

Finally, he un-furrowed his brow.

“Don’t know how the fuck she’s so sweet, but she is. She sees the good in everyone, especially me.”

“Can I see a picture?”

He didn’t hesitate to pull his phone from out of his pocket.

He didn’t even have to open it.

Mary-Kate was his lock screen.

She was sitting on his Harley, in a pair of pink denim overalls, her gorgeous curly hair everywhere, her eyes hidden behind sunglasses in the shape of stars, and she was smiling huge.

“She’s adorable, Mustang.”

“No doubt about it,” he said, pocking his phone once more.

I smiled, enthralled by the father in him. “Do you want more kids?”

“Didn’t used to want any. After MK, I changed my mind. Not for me, but for her. I don’t want her to be alone. Anything ever happens to me she’ll always be taken care of by the club, but she’s a girl. It’s different. So—yeah. I think about claimin’ an ol’ lady and poppin’ out at least one more.”

That was a good answer.

I liked it. A lot.

Too much.

Fortunately, before I could dwell on it, our dinner arrived.

Our food steered the conversation in a different direction. I wondered how he’d discovered the steakhouse, and he told me he made trips to South Dakota regularly. For a decent ride or a good band, and for Sturgis every August. He also rode to Montana and Idaho every so often, as there were other chapters of the Wild Stallions MC in Missoula and Boise.

I’d been to Bozeman, Montana, on a weekend trip with Jenna a couple years back; and my parents took my brother and me to see Mount Rushmore when we were kids, but there was so much outside of Wyoming I hadn’t experienced.

I shared this with him, and his simple reply was, “Always down for a ride, sugar.”

I couldn’t say how I’d becomesugar, but it was sticking, and I liked it.

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