Page 34 of Knocked Up by Her Daddy's Friends

“We’re the only family he’s got,” Angel says, then adds, “We were the only family.”

“Do you know what Mr. Nelson’s wishes were?” the doctor asks.

“He was dying, and he knew he didn’t have long. I don’t know about stuff like organ donation, he never spoke about it,” Drifter adds.

“Take us to him,” Angel says, his voice level but I can tell inside he’s hurting.

The doctor nods and leads the way, I hesitate, unsure of what to do but Drifter reaches out and takes my hand, squeezing it tightly and pulling me along with them.

Inside the hospital room, Brewer looks smaller yet peaceful. His face slack and his eyes closed.

“I’ll give you a moment,” the doctor says, leaving and closing the door quietly behind him.

We all know Brewer can’t hear us, that he’s already gone, but we say our goodbyes anyway. The guys don’t say much, all of them are too upset and don’t want to show their emotions, so they keep things brief.

“Goodbye, old friend,” Angel says, speaking first, “We’ll make them pay for this.”

“We’ll miss you, Brewer,” Buzz adds.

“Enjoy riding and fucking hot chicks in hell, we’ll see you there someday,” Drifter says, as always hiding his emotions with humor.

We look to Gunner, but he just shakes his head.

They look expectantly at me, so I decide to say something too. “I didn’t know you very well, Brewer. I wish I had more time with you, you were an amazing guy and I’m sorry this happened. We won’t forget you. Say hi to my dad when you see him.”

We stand in silence for a moment before Angel speaks, “I’ll go get the doctor,” he says with a sniff before striding out, perhaps not wanting us to see his heartbreak.

Drifter has seemed on edge the whole time we’ve been here, they all have. But he’s kept it together until now.

“Fuck! I can’t do this!” he exclaims, his voice panicked, and his breathing becomes faster as he struggles to catch his breath. “I have to go.”

He strides out of the room and, after exchanging a look with Gunner and Buzz, I chase after him. When I finally catch up to him, he’s hyperventilating outside in the parking lot.

“Breathe, just breathe, it’s okay, I’m here. It’s just a panic attack,” I say soothingly, stroking his arm in comfort.

Slowly, he regains his composure, and his breathing settles a little. “I have to get out of here,” he says as he puts on his helmet, “I just need to ride,” he explains.

“Okay, but I’m coming with you.”

He looks as though he’s about to argue against it, but I insist. “I’m not letting you ride off alone.”

He nods and we get on the bike, riding away from the hospital. We ride around for a long time in silence with no destination in mind. The open road and concentrating on nothing but riding soothes us both. When we eventually head for the clubhouse, it’s already getting dark. After the long ride, some of the tension is gone from his shoulders. We head inside through the side door, avoiding the now busy bar, neither of us wants to see anyone right now. Drifter heads straight to the office and I hesitate at the door, not sure if he wants to be alone right now or not. The others are still out, and I don’t know what to do.

“You can come in,” he says, pouring us both a large glass of whiskey before handing one to me and sitting down on the couch, wearily putting his face in his hands.

I sit next to him, gently placing a hand on his back, unsure of what to say.

“I fucking hate hospitals,” he says, his voice almost childlike as he takes a big gulp of his whiskey.

“I know, it’s horrible, having to see Brewer like that,” I reply sadly.

“No, it’s not that. I mean, obviously, that fucking sucks, but…” Drifter says, pausing to take a deep breath before continuing, “I spent a lot of time in the hospital when I was younger, and going there reminds me of that.”

“Were you sick?” I ask.

He shakes his head, “You’ve probably noticed my scars, even under the tattoo you can see them.”

“The phoenix?”

---