His club voted her out

They took a vote on my life. I wasn't in the room.
Fourteen years I wore his ring. I patched up his brothers, buried their dead, and kept my mouth shut about everything I saw.
Then church let out on a Tuesday and my husband couldn't look at me.
The club decided I was a liability. And Colt — President of the Iron Oath MC, the man who swore he'd burn the world down for me — said nothing.
So I left Savannah with a duffel bag and a secret I hadn't told anyone yet.
Six hundred miles. New lease. A job that doesn't ask questions.
Then I heard pipes on my street.
He says he'll sleep in that truck all winter if that's what it takes. He's four months too late.
And the man who fixed my porch, who remembers how I take my coffee, who has never once made me afraid — he's asking me to choose.
One of them broke me. One of them is trying to build me back.
I already know which one I love. That's the problem.