“And you stopped speaking.”
“Yes.”
“Who stopped first?”
He thought.
“I told myself she did.”
“That isn’t what I asked.”
The Biker looked down.
“I stopped calling after three months.”
“How old was she?”
“Twenty-four.”
The worker wrote.
“Did you know she was pregnant?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“She never told me.”
“Could she reach you?”
“Yes.”
“Could you reach her?”
“Yes.”
The worker looked directly at him.
“Then both can be true.”
The Biker nodded.
That hurt.
Good.
Pain sometimes meant the truth had found the right place.
The worker inspected the second bedroom.
Empty except for a workbench and storage boxes.
The Biker said, “I can clear it.”
“You will need a bed.”
“I know.”
“Clothes storage.”
“Yes.”
“School transportation plan.”
“Yes.”
“Childcare backup.”
“Yes.”
“Firearms?”
The Biker nodded.
“Locked safe in garage.”
She inspected.
Secured.
Ammunition separate.
Good.
“Club activity at the house?”
“Rare.”
“Alcohol?”
“Beer in the fridge.”
“Drugs?”
“No.”
“Smoking?”
“Quit six years ago.”
The worker wrote.
“Support network?”
The Biker almost laughed.
“How many names?”
“As many as actually help.”
He listed the Nurse Biker first.
Then the Vice President.
A retired teacher two houses down.
His sister in Oklahoma.
The foster worker nodded.
“You have people.”
“Yes.”
“You comfortable asking them for help?”
The Biker paused.
“No.”
She looked up.
“Work on that.”
The Little Boy moved into the Biker’s house six days later under temporary kinship placement.
Not permanent custody.
The Biker understood every qualifier.
The child understood only one thing.
He got to go with Grandpa.
The first night went badly.
The Little Boy refused the bedroom.
The Biker had spent two days preparing it.
Blue comforter.
Small lamp.
Desk.
Books.
A shelf with toy cars because somebody at the club said seven-year-old boys liked cars.
The child stood in the doorway.
“No.”
The Biker blinked.
“No?”
“I want the couch.”
“Bed’s better.”
“No.”
The Biker almost argued.
Then remembered.
“Why?”
The Little Boy looked embarrassed.
“If I’m in there, I won’t hear if you leave.”
The Biker went still.