Page 58 of Dutch

We watched as they took a final ride for one of their own. They wore their cuts and their patches as an allegiance of loss.

"Jahlil's funeral looks like the whole charter showed up," Dutch commented.

I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away. I never got to bury Malakai. I couldn't afford a funeral and had to opt for cremation. I turned back to Dutch as the last of the procession faded into the distance.

We sat in silence for a moment, processing, maybe even paying our last respects.

I broke the silence first. "Seeing the hearse, hit differently."

Dutch nodded. "I know. It's fucked up."

I stared into my lemonade. Jahlil's face flashed in my mind, not as the hardened man but as the goofy kid who would sneak me candy when Malakai wasn't looking.

"Jahlil wasn't always what he became. When we were younger, he always tried to keep me out of Malakai's bullshit."

"How so?"

I didn't know it then, but in hindsight, he would sometimes tell Malakai to leave me behind. "I guess he was protecting me."

"Sounded like he cared," Dutch replied.

"Lot of good it did in the end," I snapped. "I'm sorry, it's complicated."

"I understand, but you can totally mourn someone and still be pissed at them."

Dutch's words hit home, and suddenly, I was telling everything. "You should've seen him that day, Dutch. He was broken and desperate. He begged me to burn the ledger to save my life. He even gave me a lighter. Like I said earlier, in hindsight, he'd always tried to warn me without full-on telling me. I just never caught the hints. He wanted me to make things right, even if it meant burning it up.”

"That's deep, like when he popped up at your shop that day," Dutch replied.

"Exactly," I confirmed.

Dutch reached across the table. The gesture surprised me, but I didn't pull away. "I'm sorry, baby, for my part in this mess."

I looked at our hands. "We all have blood on our hands. Maybe it's time to wash them."

He smiled. "Are you suggesting we go straight?"

"I don't know. I kind of like you in leather." I laughed.

I sipped my lemonade, mind steel-reeling that Jahlil had died.

"Hey, can I take you to dinner if you aren't sick of me yet?"

I rolled my eyes. "Fool, we just ate lunch, but dinner sounds nice."

Dutch and I sat in our own little bubble as the cafe was busy around us. I found myself tracing his palm with my fingertip.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

I shrugged. "I just wondered if your bloodline was as messed up as mine."

He threw his head back and laughed. "Knowing my track record, probably worse."

"I don't know. We've been through some shit." I laughed.

"Not anymore, if I can help it."

I couldn't argue with that. Instead, I nodded a smile, tugging at my lips. Dutch threw some bills on the table and stood up, offering me his hand, and I allowed him to pull me to my feet.

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