“I never got to say goodbye. Never got to hold her hand. Never got to tell her I loved her one more time. I’ve lived with that regret every single day since.”
He looked at Emma.
I was sobbing now. Couldn’t stop. This man’s pain was so raw, so real, so familiar.
“What was her name?” I asked. “Your daughter?”
“Emily.” He smiled through his tears. “She wanted to be a veterinarian. Loved animals more than people. Had this laugh that could light up a room.”
“Emma wants to be a teacher. She loves kids. Volunteers at the library reading to toddlers.”
Thomas nodded. “She told me. That night in the car. She was fading in and out but she kept talking about the kids at the library. Said she’d promised to read them Charlotte’s Web and she couldn’t die because she hadn’t finished the story.”
I laughed through my tears. That was so Emma. Worrying about everyone else even when she was dying.
“She sounds like Emily,” Thomas said softly. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t let go.”
From that day forward, things were different.
He told me about the Guardians Motorcycle Club. About the charity work they did. The kids they helped. The families they supported. He told me about losing Emily and how the club had saved him from drowning in grief.
I told him about Emma’s father. How he’d left when she was three. How I’d raised her alone. How she’d never complained, never blamed anyone, just worked hard and stayed kind.
“She’s a fighter,” Thomas said one evening. “I could see it that night. The way she held on. Most people would have given up.”
“She gets it from her grandmother. Stubborn as hell.”
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