Weeks later, I found Anna in the break room.
She still looked guilty.
“You saved him,” I told her.
She shook her head. “They did.”
“No,” I said gently. “You brought them here. You gave him family when his own walked away. You gave him a brotherhood. A legacy. That vest will outlive all of us.”
Her eyes filled with tears.
And in that moment, I knew: medicine may fight disease, but it’s love—the wild, unlikely kind—that heals the soul.
Sometimes, late at night, when I hear the rumble of motorcycles in the distance, I close my eyes and smile.
Because I know it’s not just the Road Warriors riding.
It’s Tommy too.
Flying free.
Vest shining in the wind.
Forever a warrior.
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