but she wouldn’t take them. I felt like the pill police, and it fucking sucked. I became the bad guy, and I lived up to it, Harley. I never physically hurt her. I’d never do that. But we argued, and I’m not proud of that. But it was hell losing the baby, and the truth is, when we lost Destiny, I also lost Annie. And then . . .” He ground out a curse. “Annie tried to commit suicide. That was when Dad got sick. I was in the hospital with her when you called, and I couldn’t leave her, man. I couldn’t do it.”
Harley’s breath rushed out. He felt gutted. “Why didn’t you tell me? I would have come there to help.”
“The last thing I needed was my brother the hero swooping in to save the day.”
“That’s not fair, Marshall. I was thrust into that role, and you know it.”
Marshall’s jaw clenched so tight the veins in his temples bulged. “I thought I could help her. I got clean again, and I tried, man. Damn it, I tried so fucking hard.” He shook his head, fresh tears wetting his cheeks. “She did it when I was at work, had it all planned, like a damn grocery list. I found her in the bathtub, her wrists cut, and a note.”
“Jesus, Marsh.” Harley couldn’t hold back his own tears. “I’m sorry.” He didn’t ask what the note said. Marshall had shared enough of his pain.
“Me too. After that, I left all my shit and took off on a bender. Ended up at this biker bar in Colorado a few months later, the Roadhouse. I found the biggest, meanest-looking biker and tried to start a fight. I wanted to hurt, Harley. I wanted to die.”
Harley tried to swallow past the thickening of his throat, but it was too painful to think his brother had suffered so much and had been all alone.
“I called him names, threw his beer bottle against the wall,” Marshall said. “I shoved him, but the guy was like a fucking mountain, muscles upon muscles, with a lethal stare. The coldest, deadest eyes I’d ever seen. I egged him on, throwing punches, which had the impact of a flea. All these big-ass guys surrounded us, wearing leather and biker patches, but it was like they deferred to him, looked to him for direction, you know? The alpha of the pack. I was sweating bullets, fighting a guy who refused to fight back, knocking bottles off the bar, shoving chairs and tables out the way, and saying God knows what. The guy, Diesel, told me later that I was shouting and rambling, apologizing to Annie and Destiny.”
Harley put his hand on Marshall’s fist and held it. “Grief is a powerful thing, and you’re lucky—we’re lucky—that guy didn’t kill you.”
“He saved me.” Marshall met Harley’s gaze, trying to blink away tears. “Those guys surrounded me and waited until I wore myself out and collapsed to the floor like a fucking pussy, crying and so damn lost. The bikers who I wanted to kill me sat on the floor of the bar talking with me, to me, for hours. They told me their own horror stories of loss and battles. And then they told me about the Dark Knights motorcycle club.”
Marshall must have seen the worried look in Harley’s eyes, because he said, “It’s not a gang. They do good. Just look at me. They took me in, brought me to the Redemption Ranch, run by Tommy Whiskey. He goes by the biker name Tiny.” A wry smile curved his lips. “They must have fortified water out there, because Tiny was probably three hundred pounds, a big, bearded, and tattooed guy who looked soft. Not muscular, just heavy. But man, he is tough as nails. They rescue horses, and as in my case, they rescue people. They hire ex-cons, recovering drug addicts, people with social and emotional issues. And they help, Harley. You don’t just work on the ranch, although that’s a must. They give people a purpose, a reason to push past their pain and get moving again. Tiny’s wife, Wynona—Wynnie—is a licensed psychologist. She and a host of other medical professionals, mostly comprised of Dark Knights and their family members, hold daily therapy sessions, group and individual. There was always someone there to pick me up and remind me that I’m not alone.”
“We’ve been here, Marshall. Your family. If we’d known, we would have been there to do the same.”
“Sure,