Ron answered that the hair had gotten confused and traveled in the wrong direction.
Tucker laughed so hard that Angie had to remind him to slow down and catch his breath.
I watched them.
The sound of his laughter unsettled me in ways I couldn't explain.
For eight years, I had tried to make my life quiet enough that I wouldn't hear memories of Sarah.
Now a little boy was laughing across the table, and the sound made me want to cry and smile at the same time.
Angie noticed.
“You okay?”
I nodded.
“Just thinking.”
She didn't ask about what.
I appreciated that.
Eventually, Tucker grew tired.
His laughter faded.
He leaned against his mother, rubbing one eye.
Angie looked at her watch.
“We should go. He's got an appointment this afternoon.”
I nodded.
“Of course.”
She started gathering their things.
I reached for my wallet.
She immediately shook her head.
“No. Please. You've already been so kind.”
I looked at her.
“Let us get breakfast.”
She hesitated.
Then she whispered, “Thank you.”
I paid the bill.
Ron quietly added a tip large enough to make the waitress stare.
The others collected Tucker's scattered money and returned it to him in a small paper envelope.
He protested.
“But you said you'd help.”
“We will,” I answered.
“Then you gotta take the money.”
I knelt beside him again.
“Tucker, let me ask you something.”
He nodded.
“If your mommy was sad and you gave her a hug, would you charge her money?”
He looked horrified.
“No!”
“Why not?”
“Because she's my mommy.”
I nodded.
“Well, sometimes people help because somebody feels like family.”
He studied me.
Then he looked toward the other bikers.
“Are we family now?”
The question went through me like a knife.
I tried to answer.
But Ron spoke first.
“Looks that way, little man.”
Tucker smiled.
Then he reached for his mother's hand.
As they walked toward the door, he turned around.
“Bye, Bear!”
I lifted one hand.
“See you, buddy.”
He looked back one more time.
“Don't forget we're a team!”
I forced myself to smile.
“Wouldn't dream of it.”
Then he disappeared through the diner door.
The little bell above it rang.
And suddenly the table felt enormous.
Nobody spoke.
Ron stared at the empty chair.
The third biker pushed his coffee mug away.
One of the men from the counter took off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes.
Finally, Ron looked at me.
“You all right, brother?”
I shook my head.
“No.”
He nodded slowly.
He knew.
All five men in the Iron Ghosts knew about Sarah.