Always one bill away from disaster. She has changed. I agree. So have you. Hawk says how.
He gestures to my chair. You don't hide anymore. You don't hunch down, try to disappear. You sit up straight, look people in the eye. I hadn't realized that, but he's right.
The chair doesn't define you anymore. Hawk continues. It's just how you get around. The club did that, I say. Hawk shakes his head.
No, you did that. We just gave you the space to find your curve. Inside, someone starts playing guitar. A low, sweet melody drifts through the open door. My brother would have liked you, Hawk says suddenly.
Jamie, he nods. You remind me of him. Not just the chair, the spirit, the way you face things headon. I wish I could have met him, I say. Me too, kid.
Hawk's voice is rough with emotion. Me, too. The door opens behind us. Mom steps out. She looks different these days.
Hair loose around her shoulders, color in her cheeks, less burdened. There you are, she says. I was looking for you. Just talking, Hawk says standing. I'll leave you two alone.
No need, Mom says. Actually, I wanted to talk to both of you. She sits in Hawk's vacated chair, takes a deep breath. I've been thinking about the future, she says, about what happens next. My heart sinks.
She wants to leave. I can feel it coming. The lease on our apartment is up, she continues. I need to decide whether to renew it. Hawk and I exchange glances and Hawk prompts gently.
And I think we should stay here, Mom says. If that's still okay with the club. Joy bursts through me. Really? We can stay.
Mom smiles. Yes, this place, these people. You were right, Eli. It's where we belong. Hawk's face splits in a rare full smile.
The house is yours for as long as you want it, Sarah. No strings. There are strings, Mom says. But they're the right kind. The kind that hold people together.
She reaches for my hand, squeezes it tight. We're home, she says. Summer arrives hot and bright. School lets out. The club buzzes with activity.
I spend my days in the garage with Patch, learning about bikes. My hands grow skilled with tools. My arms stronger from wheeling myself everywhere. Patch's wound heals well. The scar is a badge of honor.
He shows it off proudly. Chicks dig scars, he tells me with a wink. Gross, I reply, but I laugh. Emily visits often. She fits in well with the club.
Fearless, curious. Even Hawk seems charmed by her. She your girlfriend yet? Patch teases one afternoon as Emily leaves. I feel my cheeks burn.
She's just a friend. Uh-huh. Patch says unconvinced. Friends don't look at each other the way you two do. I change the subject quickly.