“Yes.”
Graham looked at her.
“So I finally told her if she wanted the real story, she could come through the front door and ask everyone herself.”
Derek frowned.
“You didn’t warn us?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Wanted to see how you behaved.”
That earned laughter at Derek rather than Cassie.
Derek leaned back.
“Great.”
Hank stood.
At seventy-one, Hank Foster was one of the oldest active Iron Wolves and one of the few men besides Graham who had ridden with the club during its earliest years.
His hair was white.
His face had deep creases from sun and age.
He looked at Cassie.
“You understand riding with us isn’t the same as sitting here writing quotes.”
“I know.”
“You ever done a full-day ride?”
“No.”
“Four hours?”
“No.”
“Two?”
Cassie hesitated.
“One and a half.”
Hank nodded.
“On the back?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Derek smiled again.
Hank ignored him.
“You’ll hurt.”
“I know.”
“You’ll get cold when you expect heat and hot when you expect cold.”
“I know.”
“You’ll discover helmets get heavier every hour.”
“I know.”
“You’ll discover every truck throws wind differently, every pothole travels straight into your spine, and if the group stops for fuel you don’t spend fifteen minutes deciding which candy bar speaks to you spiritually.”
Cassie almost laughed.
“I can handle it.”
“No,” Maria said. “You can learn to handle it.”
Cassie looked toward her.
Maria stood.
“That’s different.”
Graham stepped beside his daughter.
“She rides with me first.”
Derek said, “She riding in formation?”
“As passenger until she understands formation.”
Derek still looked skeptical.
“Being your daughter gets special treatment.”
Graham shook his head.
“Being my daughter gets her through the door.”
He looked at Cassie.
“Everything after that, she earns.”
Cassie nodded.
“That’s what I want.”
Hank lifted his coffee.
“I say give her a shot.”
Maria nodded.
A few others followed.
Derek looked around.
“You’re all serious?”
Hank shrugged.
“Worst case, she lasts one ride and writes about how old men complain about their knees.”
“That’s already in my notes.”
Laughter returned.
Different this time.
Not welcoming yet.
But not dismissive either.
Derek shook his head.
“You’re all insane.”
Graham looked at him.
“Objection?”
Derek glanced at Cassie.
Then away.
“No.”
Cassie felt pressure release from her lungs.
She had gotten inside.
She had been accepted.
At least conditionally.
On the drive home that evening, Graham barely spoke.
Cassie sat beside him in the truck because he had left his motorcycle at Rusty’s after agreeing to help Hank move equipment the next morning.
The silence stretched for several miles.
Finally Cassie said, “You’re mad.”
“No.”
“You do the jaw thing when you’re mad.”
“What jaw thing?”
“That.”
Graham’s jaw tightened.
Cassie pointed.
“Exactly.”
He sighed.
“I didn’t know you were going to say that.”
“Say what?”
“About me coming home lighter.”
Cassie looked out the window.
“It’s true.”
Graham’s hands remained steady on the steering wheel.
“You were born more than twenty years after the club started.”
“I know.”
“You never saw me before.”
“No.”
“So you don’t know what they gave back.”
Cassie looked at him.
“Then tell me.”
His eyes stayed on the road.
“I’m trying.”
It was the closest he had ever come to volunteering.
Cassie did not push.
The following Sunday, Graham woke her at five in the morning.