“It does.”
Hammer followed her gaze.
“He's a good kid.”
“He was Daniel’s entire world.”
Hammer looked down.
“I know.”
Rachel turned.
“You really only met him four times after the diagnosis?”
“Four.”
“What did you talk about?”
“Noah mostly.”
“And me?”
Hammer's mouth moved slightly.
“A lot.”
Rachel groaned.
“What did he say?”
Hammer shook his head.
“I have standards.”
“You ride around with a nickname like Hammer.”
“Exactly.”
“High standards.”
She almost laughed.
Hammer looked toward Noah.
“Daniel was scared.”
Rachel’s smile disappeared.
“He hid it well.”
“Not from me.”
“Why you?”
“Because I wasn't going home with him.”
Hammer looked toward the river.
“He could say things to me that he didn't want you carrying.”
Rachel understood.
That hurt.
But she understood.
“What was he most afraid of?”
Hammer answered immediately.
“Noah forgetting him.”
Rachel closed her eyes.
Of course.
Then Hammer added:
“And you refusing to live.”
She looked at him.
“He worried you'd turn grief into a full-time job.”
“That sounds rude.”
“He was rude.”
Rachel smiled through tears.
“He really was.”
Hammer continued.
“He told me you were stronger than anybody he knew.”
“He also said that was the problem.”
“What does that mean?”
“That people let strong people carry too much.”
Rachel stopped smiling.
Daniel had said similar things.
She hated when dead husbands continued winning arguments.
Hammer looked toward the Harley.
“There's one thing I haven't told you.”
Rachel sighed.
“There is always one more thing.”
“This one's mine.”
“What?”
“When Daniel found me last year, I almost refused.”
“Why?”
Hammer took a long breath.
“Because I was done with this.”
He gestured toward the motorcycles.
“The rides.”
“The club?”
“Pretty much all of it.”
Rachel frowned.
“Why?”
“My son died twenty-four years ago.”
“I told you that.”
She nodded.
“What I didn't say is why I started the hospital charity ride.”
“My sister suggested it.”
“But I kept doing it because the first year I met Daniel.”
Rachel watched him.
Hammer continued.
“Seeing him terrified about a baby he hadn't even met…”
“It reminded me how lucky I had been to get nineteen years.”
“For the first time, I stopped thinking only about what had been taken from me.”
“I started thinking about what I'd had.”
Rachel’s expression softened.
“Daniel didn't know that.”
“No.”
“Not then.”
“But when he found me last year, I told him.”
“And he said something.”
“What?”
Hammer smiled faintly.
“He said maybe Noah’s birth saved two people that day.”
Rachel's eyes filled.
Hammer looked embarrassed.
“I hated that sentence.”
“Why?”
“Too sentimental.”
“It sounds like Daniel.”
“Exactly.”