Page 64 of Rooster

With the wind whipping around us, we pulled out onto the open road, and a sense of sorrow enveloped us as we followed our leader out towards the coast. The road stretched out ahead like a winding memorial—each mile a symbolic gesture for our fallen brother.

We returned to the clubhouse and met in the bar for a couple of drinks, but none of us were in the mood for much more than that. I still needed to get the house ready for Maggie and her kids, so I tossed my empty bottle in the trash and announced, “I’m heading out.”

“Where you running off to?”

“Maggie and the kids are coming out to the house tonight, and the place is a total fucking wreck. I gotta get groceries, too.”

“You could always take a couple of the girls with ya,” Savage suggested. “They could give you a hand getting things ready.”

“Yeah, and let Maggie get all kinds of pissed at me? Hell, no. I’d rather not have my ass in a sling,”

“Can’t say I blame you there.”

“Have a good one, brother.”

Without saying anything more, I left the bar and headed out to my truck. As I pulled out, I glanced over at the back of the lot where we buried Chains, and bile rose to my throat. I was struggling. Hell, I was more than struggling. I was a fucking mess, but the thought of seeing Maggie helped to ease the ache in the pit of my stomach.

I ran by the grocery store and picked up everything I thought we might need, then drove home and started cleaning up. Thankfully, the house wasn’t as bad as I thought, and I was able to get it in order without it being a huge ordeal. I’d just finished putting the dirty dishes in the dishwasher when my phone chimed with a message.

I grabbed it out of my pocket, and my spirits lifted the second I read:

Maggie:

We’re on the way.

Me:

Great.

Maggie:

Do we need to pick up anything on the way?

Me:

Nope.

I got it covered.

Maggie:

Are you sure?

I could stop by the Dollar Store and grab some knock-off Twinkies.

Me:

Don’t you dare!

Maggie:

Okay. Okay.

We’ll be there in twenty.

Me:

Good deal.

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