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It felt strange to hear her speak so quietly now. Like the spirit had slowly leeched out of her.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

Hattie shrugged.

“The hospital called. I was listed as your emergency contact.”

I grimaced.

“Fuck. I—meant to change that.”

“You’ve had over a decade, Neil,” she replied with fatigue in her voice. Fed up with my bullshit. Fed up with telling me no when I’d tried to convince her to stay.

Hattie and I met when I was thirty, freshly elected Sergeant at Arms of the Blackjacks MC, with my eyes set on that Presidential seat one day. Hattie had been twenty-one, a college graduate and a teaching assistant at the local middle school here in Brightwater, Montana.

We couldn’t keep our hands off each other, but it seemed life continued to pull us in different directions, no matter how hard we tried to fight it.

After twelve years of marriage, and thirteen years divorced, here we were again, together and separated at the same time.

Big G rose from his seat and crossed the room, hesitating for a split second before he squeezed Hattie’s shoulder and kissed her cheek.

“You look good, Hattie.”

She scoffed with an amused glance.

“Don’t butter me up. You were always a little scared of me. I see that hasn’t changed.”

“There’s a difference between fear and respect,” Big G protested.

“A very narrow one and you walk that fine line like a tightrope.”

“Folks call it self-preservation, sweetheart.”

Hattie breathed a faint laugh and playfully poked him in the arm.

“Now you’re just flirting. I’ve already learned what a headache it is to marry a biker. I don’t need to make that mistake again.”

“Who said anything about marriage?” Big G quipped back. “Fooling around is more fun anyway.”

Hattie faltered and her gaze slid over to me.

“I’ve made that mistake, too,” she whispered.

A lump formed in my throat. God, I missed her. I fucked it up. I don’t know what I could have done differently back then—I was a biker through and through, and that was the part she hated most. The open road was burned into my bones. My club was the only family I’d ever known. I couldn’t be the man that Hattie wanted.

But I wish I could have been. I wish I could have changed into someone completely different if it meant she would finally be happy instead of pained and full of remorse when she looked at me.

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped flirting with my wife right in front of me, Decker,” I said.

“Ex-wife,” Hattie said, with a hint of that familiar sharpness appearing in her voice. “I’m not yours anymore, Neil. You have no claim on me. I can flirt with anyone I want to.”

Sourness burned on my tongue. After thirteen years apart, there was no doubt in my mind that Hattie had been dating other men. Hell, for all I knew, she was probably remarried by now.

My gaze dropped to her left hand, searching for a ring. A small glimmer of dumb, naïve, hope wanted to find my gold band on her finger. But I knew the likelihood of that wasn’t realistic, so I braced myself for another man’s ring to be there instead.

Her skin was bare. No gold band. No diamond engagement ring. Nothing.

I couldn’t decide if that was better or worse. Had she remained single after all these years? She’d always dreamed ofa white picket fence life—two kids, a dog, squabbling with the HOA over petty shit.