“Why?”
The Biker Leader looked at the photograph.
“Because he was my brother.”
The woman went completely still.
The boy looked up.
“Your brother?”
The Biker Leader nodded.
The child studied his face as if trying to find his father inside it.
The mother looked confused.
Then angry.
“No.”
The Biker Leader frowned.
“No?”
“My husband didn't have a brother.”
The Older Biker stepped forward.
“He did.”
The woman shook her head.
“He told me his brother was dead.”
Silence.
Now the Biker Leader looked as if somebody had struck him.
The boy stared at his mother.
“You said Dad didn't have family.”
“I said—”
She stopped.
The Biker Leader’s voice became rough.
“He told you I was dead?”
The woman looked toward the diner.
Then the highway.
Anywhere except his face.
“He said his family was gone.”
The Biker Leader laughed once.
No humor.
“Gone.”
The Older Biker touched his shoulder.
The Leader shrugged him off.
Not angrily.
Instinctively.
He looked at the toy again.
“What did he tell the boy about this?”
The mother hesitated.
The child answered.
“He said his brother gave it to him.”
The Biker Leader looked directly at him.
“You knew?”
The boy shrugged.
“He said his brother went away.”
Different story.
Not dead.
Gone.
The mother looked uncomfortable.
The Biker Leader saw it.
“There’s more.”
She said nothing.
“Ma’am.”
The Leader’s voice softened.
“I rode into this parking lot expecting eggs and coffee.”
“I did not come looking for you.”
“I didn’t know he had a child.”
“I didn't know he was dead.”
The woman finally looked at him.
“He didn't know how to find you.”
The Biker Leader’s jaw tightened.
“He knew exactly how.”
“No.”
“He knew the club.”
“He knew the town.”
“He knew—”
“He thought you hated him.”
The Biker Leader stopped.
The woman continued.
“He thought you blamed him.”
“For what?”
She glanced toward the boy.
The Biker Leader understood.
Not here.
Not in front of him.
The child looked between them.
“Blamed Dad for what?”
His mother forced a smile.
“Nothing you need to worry about.”
The boy hated that immediately.
“I’m not a baby.”
“I know.”
The Biker Leader crouched again.
He looked at the toy.
Then the child.
“What’s your name, kid?”
The boy told him.
The Biker Leader nodded.
“I knew your dad when he was smaller than you.”
The boy frowned.
“Impossible.”
The Older Biker laughed quietly.
The Biker Leader almost smiled.
“Feels impossible.”