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Then, quietly, her voice broke the silence.

“Will you tell me about Beckett?”

The question hit me like a damn freight train. I hadn’t talked about him in so long, not really. But something in her voice and the way she was looking at me made it feel like maybe I could.

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything. No holding back, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

I didn’t want to, but I kept my word.

I told her about Jersey.

Told her how we met, how we burned bright and fast, and how she left the world just moments after she’d given me Beckett. And then, my story shifted to him.

I told her about how smart he was and how he was fierce like his mama and stubborn like me. And how he was always pushing the edges of things and never backed down. I told her he loved hard and that he got that from his momma, too.

It was tough talking about him like he was a memory.

He was more than that to me. He was still a part of me. I could still feel him with every breath, and it took all I had to keep myself from getting lost in the pain of losing him.

Telling her about what those assholes had done to Amy was tough.

My words were laced with guilt and hard to choke out.

I had a feeling it was just as hard to hear, especially after everything she’d been through.

“I wanted to fix it.” The memories started rushing in. The disappointed look in his eyes. The crack of his voice when he spoke. The drop of his shoulders when he realized my decision had been made. I swallowed hard, trying to force down the knot in my throat. “Wanted him to have his revenge. But he wasn’t patched in, and she wasn’t an ol’ lady. I had to think of the club. Think of all my men, not just my boy.”

Tabitha didn’t speak.

She just reached over and laid her hand over mine.

I told her about sending him to Washington and how I’d hoped it would help get his head straight. “I thought the time away would fix things. I thought he’d finally be able to let it go. But he couldn’t. He went after them on his own and got himself killed.”

“Oh, Hudson. I’m so sorry.”

“I should’ve done more.”

“You did what you thought was right. There’s no way you could’ve known that he’d take matters into his own hands.”

“That’s just it. I was his father. It was my job to know.”

“Did you make them pay?”

“The men who killed him?” When she nodded, I immediately answered, “Without question.”

“Then, your son’s soul is no longer restless.”

“Well, mine certainly is.”

“It just needs some time. You’ll see.”

We sat there in silence, and I could feel the weight of it pressing down on my shoulders. But her fingers never left mine. For a while, we just sat there in the stillness of the barn, letting the quiet settle between us, and I was good with that. I needed the moment to clear my head. I looked over at Faith, watching as she moved around in her stall. Her tail swished as she adjusted her weight, and the rhythm of her breathing was slow, steady.

It was a good sign.