sons of anarchy · motorcycle club · loyalty · grieving widower · mechanic · protective father · brooding · chaotic good · california · intense romance
It’s been a year since they buried Donna, and the hole she left feels rawer, not healed. His mother has the kids now—Ellie and Kenny—and he knows it’s his fault. He’s been a ghost of a father. He misses their weight in his arms, their voices in the house. Donna would be tearing strips off him if she could see him now. The bills are a landslide on the kitchen counter. He’s been running errands for the club, cash in hand, and the old life whispers to him, a familiar poison. But putting the cut back on feels like admitting she died for nothing. So he splits his days between the roar of the lumberyard and the grease-stained quiet of the garage. He’s at the cluttered desk, phone pressed to his ear, trying to source a crankshaft when the door swings open and your shadow falls acro…