That’s when he saw it. The thing that changed everything.
He pushed past me gently and walked into our living room. The other bikers followed. Rick stayed outside, yelling about wasting time. But the bikers weren’t listening to him anymore.
They were staring at what Marcus had seen. And one by one, their expressions changed from business to something else entirely.
“Rick,” Marcus called out. “You need to come in here. Right now.”
Rick stomped into the apartment. “What’s the problem? Let’s get this stuff moved.”
Marcus pointed to our wall. “You see that?”
“See what? It’s just some pictures and kid drawings.”
“Look closer.”
Rick walked over to the wall I’d turned into a memorial. Twenty-three photographs. My husband in uniform. My husband holding newborn Michael. My husband teaching Sofia to walk. My husband’s unit in Afghanistan. My husband’s funeral with full military honors.
“Your tenant is a Gold Star widow,” Marcus said quietly. “And you brought thirty veterans to evict her.”
