31
Ricky
Three months later
Goddamn, I did not miss the cold.
Even with the rental’s heater blasting on high, New England’s frigid winter wind rocked the car and seemed to seep through the cracks. At least it wasn’t snowing.
I stared at the Viper’s club waiting in front of us, twirling my old lady’s wedding band with my thumb as our hands clasped tightly atop the shifter.
“Regrets?” she asked softly, squeezing my hand.
“None.” I didn’t hesitate to answer—but I’d meant about every choice I’d made in life. If I hadn’t gone the route I’d chosen, I wouldn’t have ended up with a wedding band on my own ring finger and a tattoo on my shoulder telling the world I belonged to one Casey Lynn Capello.
Vigil hadn’t made it out for our last minute Vegas wedding, but a dozen brothers had packed
