Page 32 of Road to Absolution

I lifted a challenging brow. “Me having a biker killed?”

“People die every day.”

It seemed bikers had an acceptance level I wasn’t sure I could comprehend.

He added, “And some survive every day, too.”

Again, I just stared at him, drinking my water. What are you trying to tell me?

My silence seemed to give him permission to grab Justice’s chair and pull it over to me. After sitting, he said, “I, uh, know a thing or two about burns if you have questions.”

His road name now tragically made sense, and my body hurt for him. I desperately wanted answers about Maverick, but… “I don’t want you to have to talk about anything that may… bother you.”

Sitting back in his chair, he smiled wide, showing a small gap between his teeth that made him even more adorable. “That’s why we love you, JB.”

Too worn to the bone to completely grasp his meaning, or feel worthy of any compliment at the moment, I melted to the back of my chair. Staring at the blanket covering Maverick’s bandaged legs, I asked, “What is the worst thing happening to him right now?”

He dipped his chin. “Captain was right to speak of his head.”

Wiping my mouth, even though it didn’t need it, I think showed my distress. “She didn’t seem to be a bullshitter.”

A chuckle escaped him in the quiet room. “Far from it. Straight shooter. A woman I admire on the highest level.”

He waited, possibly to see if his words about her were sinking in.

They were, I was just too tired to understand that. Everything felt stagnant in my body. I was… depleted. “Okay, so, the burns?”

“Not as bad as some I’ve seen. I think he’ll avoid infections, too.” His brows rose. “Can I put it in perspective for you?”

Thinking that was an odd question, and not an explanation of the extent to Maverick’s, I tiredly nodded. But, when Scorch reached inside his cut and lifted his shirt, I pushed against the back of my chair, holding my mouth in horror.

His torso was one massive scar on top of another, skin intertwining like a map of insanity. I stuttered, “How can friends name you—Oh my God.” I was doubting Diesel’s leadership abilities. “So cruel…”

“That’s the thing, JB. Perception. Diesel taught me these scars are a part of being a Life Warrior. They are living proof that I’ve been to battle and made it back. Wiser. Stronger.”

Ever so slowly, my eyes lifted to see his brown ones gleaming.

Letting his shirt fall, his smile grew. “I love my battle scars. I’m Scorch because that’s how my brothers found me, but I’m also Scorch because I became part of the blaze that burnt me, and I now shine brighter than any fire.”

What a beautiful lesson. Never judge a soul by what covers it.

He leaned forward, his huge thumb wiping tears from under my inspired eyes. “I didn’t mean to make you cry, JB.”

I took a deep fresh breath of… hope. “I’m so glad you did.”

TWO WEEKS LATER…

I woke in a deep sweat. Old and new fears of Kenny were taking a strenuous toll. I didn’t tell any of my friends or family. I didn’t want them to worry. They assumed the bags under my eyes were due to my husband, still asleep. I let them believe it.

Asleep… I refused to call it a coma anymore. A few days in, that word was so final, despairing, hopeless.

Maverick was now in a private room. Thankfully, he hadn’t crashed again and was on minimal machine help. A cot was brought in for me, and I had set up camp, you could say. I had the things I needed. Clothes, pillows… any necessities.

I didn’t work, even with available internet. Dad said he needed me to focus on my husband, but I think he knew asking me to do anything else was pointless. I stayed every day, every moment, practically every second, with Maverick’s sleeping form.

If I left for food, it was an ordeal so rarely enforced. No one liked to see me sitting at a cafeteria table, sobbing, knowing there was only one place I needed to be.

Lying on the cot hurt my back because my belly kept growing. I wiped my damp forehead and kicked off the blankets. Grabbing my cell phone, I saw it was 3:33AM.