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Bitterness was an old friend I had known for years. Resentment was a comforting blanket wrapped around my shoulders.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’re welcome,” my best friend said with a hint of smugness, and I smiled. Haizley didn’t have an arrogant bone in her body, but she had pride. She took pride in the work she put in to getting her degree and her doctorate. There weren’t a lot of psychologists that focused on such a unique specialty.

I knew most of her patients saw her for basic therapy, but she had a few along the way that were specific to her elevated training.

“Let’s get some coffee so I can show you my little town. Maybe now I can convince you to move here. Maybe even convince you to give a couple of bikers a chance to be loved by you.”

“Haizley,” I cautioned.

“Come on.”

She held onto my hand and dragged me to her car. The front door opened, and I looked back, not recognizing the young man walking to his bike.

“He does realize it’s February, right? He’s gonna ride his bike in the cold?” I asked, as he swung his leg over the machine and fired it up. Gunner and Cash had both let me ride on the back of their bikes.

Despite my hatred of all things MC, I missed riding behind them. But February in Arkansas differed vastly from February in Nebraska. There was still snow on the ground for crying out loud.

“Joey grew up here. Today is actually warm compared to how cold it gets.”

“It is only fifty degrees,” I countered.

“Like I said, warm.” Haizley winked before climbing into her car. I followed on the passenger side, and it seemed only minutes had passed before we were pulling up in front of a coffee shop. The prospect pulling up behind us.

“Joey, why don’t you come inside?”

“Um, I’m not sure, Doc.”

“Joey, I would feel much safer if you were inside with us,” Haizley pressed.

Joey looked conflicted as he looked up and down the road. With a heavy sigh, he relented. “Ok, but if I get in trouble—”

“I will take full responsibility,” Haizley assured him.

The parking lot of the coffee shop was on the side of the building. Joey would have had to stand outside without his bike, as there were no spaces out front. Haizley was a bleeding heart, always looking out for everyone. It was one of the many things that made her a great therapist.

“Go sit, and I’ll order,” she said, and I found a seat by the window.

A few moments later, Haizley sat across from me, while Joey sat on the other side of the room, where he could watch both the front and back doors.

I had never really been a part of the club, but Gunner and Cash often talked about their duties when they prospected. I think they forgot I was in the room most of the time.

“So, you have a brother,” Haizley started.

“I do,” I confirmed, focusing on the movement outside the window rather than my friend. She reached across the table, covering my hand with hers.

“Gunner told me what he did, and why. I understand why you hate bikers.”

I couldn’t look at my friend. I kept my gaze on the little bakery across the street. Tears burned the backs of my eyes. She would take his side. Not that there were sides. But I wanted to believe that she wouldn’t just blindly approve of what he had done.

“I understand why he did it,” I began. Licking my lips, trying to moisten the dryness that had engulfed my mouth, making it hard to speak. “But it doesn’t make it ok.”

“No, it doesn’t.”

My eyes snapped to hers then. “What?”

“Did you think I would let him slide? Missy, you know me better than that. I tell people the truth. Not just what they want to hear. Gunner knows he made the wrong choice, but he can’t forgive himself for what happened to you at the clubhouse.”