People watching.
Fear made caution look reasonable until caution became habit.
Bear explained as much as a twelve-year-old needed.
Lily listened.
Then said, “I would’ve called.”
Bear smiled.
“You’re braver than your father.”
Michael’s voice came from behind them.
“I heard that.”
Lily turned.
“Good.”
Bear looked at his brother.
“See? Family trait.”
Michael shook his head.
At thirteen, Lily asked to learn how motorcycles worked.
Bear nearly cried from happiness.
He disguised it badly.
Her first lesson was supposed to last thirty minutes.
It lasted four hours.
Carburetion.
Fuel.
Spark.
Compression.
She understood mechanical systems quickly.
More quickly than Bear expected.
One Saturday she pointed at a bike that refused to start.
“Battery?”
Bear shook his head.
“New.”
“Fuel?”
“Yes.”
“Spark?”
“Yes.”
She listened to the engine crank.
Then looked at him.
“Kill switch?”
Bear stared.
The switch was off.
Dave laughed so hard he had to sit down.
Bear claimed the switch was deliberately placed that way as a test.
Nobody believed him.
By fourteen, Lily could identify every Iron Lantern member’s motorcycle by exhaust note.
By fifteen, she had started calling the twelve bikers “the committee.”
Because they collectively disapproved of everything.
Dating.
Late homework.
Shortcuts.
Boys.
Especially boys.
The first boy who came to Rachel’s house to pick Lily up for a school dance found six motorcycles parked outside.
Not planned.
Bear insisted.
Rachel accused him of lying.
The boy rang the bell.
Bear opened the door.
Behind him stood Dave.
Then Tommy.
Then Luis.
Michael appeared from the kitchen.
The boy’s face changed.
Bear smiled.
“You must be Connor.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Don’t call me sir.”
“Okay, sir.”
Dave turned away to hide laughter.
Lily came downstairs wearing a blue dress.
She stopped.
Saw the bikers.
Closed her eyes.
“No.”
Bear said, “What?”
“You promised.”
“I promised not to threaten him.”
Connor looked alarmed.
Bear raised both hands.
“I have not.”
Lily looked at Dave.
Dave suddenly found the ceiling fascinating.
“Mom!”
Rachel appeared.
She saw the scene.
“Everybody out.”
Bear protested.
“This is my niece.”
“Out.”
“Rachel—”
She pointed.
Six adult bikers shuffled toward the porch.
Connor stood frozen.
Michael stayed.
Rachel looked at him.
“You too.”
“I’m her father.”
“You’re worse.”
Michael joined them.
Outside, Bear muttered, “No respect.”
Dave said, “None.”
They watched through the window anyway.
Years moved faster after that.
Maybe because nobody was missing.
Lily graduated high school.
On graduation morning, Bear woke at five despite the ceremony starting at eleven.
He polished his motorcycle.