Chapter 1: The Girl With the Yellow Flowers
I bought myself flowers for my high school graduation because I knew nobody else would.
What I didn't know was that twenty bikers were about to stand up in the middle of the auditorium, shout my name, and change everything I thought I knew about my family.
My name is Emily Parker. I was sixteen years old, and on that Friday morning in Nashville, Tennessee, I had never felt more alone.
My mother had been dead for five years.
My father had disappeared when I was thirteen.
And my aunt, who had reluctantly taken me in, made sure I never forgot that I was an unwanted responsibility.
"You're leaving early today?"" Aunt Linda asked from the kitchen.
I stood near the front door, holding my graduation gown inside a plastic garment bag.
"Yes. The ceremony starts at two.""
She continued scrolling through her phone.
"And?""
I waited.
She finally looked up.
"Don't tell me you expect me to attend that thing.""
I swallowed.
"I just thought maybe—"
"Emily, I have a life. I can't spend every afternoon sitting around watching teenagers collect pieces of paper.""
"It's my graduation.""
"And I'm supposed to care because?""
Her words landed harder than I wanted to admit.
I adjusted the strap of my purse.
"Okay. I understand.""
"Good. There's laundry in the dryer. Don't forget it when you get home.""
I walked out without answering.
The front door closed behind me.
For several seconds, I stood on the porch, staring at the little flower garden my mother had planted years ago.
Only weeds remained.
I remembered her hands in the dirt, her yellow gardening gloves, and the way she'd let me help even when I accidentally pulled out the wrong plants.
"Yellow flowers mean happiness, sweetheart," she'd told me once.
"When life gets difficult, buy yourself some sunshine.""
I hadn't thought about that conversation in years.
But that morning, I stopped at a flower shop on my way to school.
A small bouquet of yellow daisies cost twelve dollars.
I paid with money I'd earned working evening shifts at a grocery store.
The cashier, a woman with silver hair, wrapped them in brown paper.
"Big occasion?"" she asked.
"Graduation.""
"Where are your parents?""
I looked down at the flowers.
"They couldn't make it.""
The woman paused.
"Well, congratulations, honey. Somebody should tell you they're proud.""
I forced a smile.
"Thank you.""
At the auditorium, families were already gathering.
Fathers adjusted their children's graduation caps. Mothers held bouquets and balloons. Grandparents posed for photographs.
I found an empty seat near the back.
The chair beside me remained empty.
So did the one on the other side.
I placed my yellow flowers on my lap and watched everyone else celebrate.
My best friend, Sophie, spotted me from three rows ahead.
"Emily!"" she whispered, waving excitedly.
She hurried over.
"Where's your aunt?""
"Couldn't come.""
"Again?""
I nodded.
Sophie glanced at my flowers.
"Did you buy those yourself?""
"Apparently, I'm my own graduation committee.""
She hugged me.
"You're amazing, you know that?""
I laughed, but my eyes burned.
"You should get back to your family.""
"Emily—"
"Go. Take pictures. I'll be fine.""
She hesitated before returning to her seat.
Then the ceremony began.
Names were announced one after another.
Families cheered.
Cameras flashed.
People cried.
I clapped for everyone, even though nobody seemed to notice I was there.
When the principal approached the microphone, I sat straighter.
"And now, one of our youngest graduates, completing her education two years ahead of schedule, Emily Parker!""
My stomach tightened.
I stood.
I held my flowers against my chest and walked toward the stage.
One step.
Then another.
I could hear the principal reading my achievements.
Perfect attendance. Academic honors. Community service.
But all I could think about was my mother.
She would've been sitting in the front row.
She would've screamed my name.
She would've cried harder than anyone.
I reached the center of the stage.
The principal handed me my diploma.
I smiled for the photographer.
And then—
"THAT'S OUR GIRL! GO, EMILY!""
The voice came from the back of the auditorium.
I turned.
Twenty enormous men in black leather vests were standing together.
Some had gray beards. Some had tattoos covering their arms. Several wore dark sunglasses.
They were clapping so loudly that the principal stopped speaking.
One man held a handmade sign.
WE'RE PROUD OF YOU, EMILY!
Another cupped his hands around his mouth.
"YOU DID IT, KID!""
A third shouted, "YOUR MOM WOULD BE SO PROUD!""
My diploma slipped slightly in my trembling fingers.
I looked at them, completely confused.
The entire auditorium had turned around.
Then I saw the young man standing at the end of their row.
He had dark hair, a neatly trimmed beard, and a leather vest with a name patch that read JACE.
He was smiling through tears.
I covered my mouth.
For the first time in five years, someone had shown up for me without being obligated to.
I started crying.
The principal gently touched my shoulder.
"Emily, sweetheart, I think they came just for you.""
I nodded because I couldn't speak.
After the ceremony, Sophie found me near the stage.
"WHO ARE THOSE PEOPLE?""
"I have absolutely no idea.""
"Emily, there are twenty bikers outside taking pictures with your diploma!""
I laughed through my tears.
Then the young man named Jace approached.
"Emily Parker?""
"Yes?""
He extended his hand.
"I'm Jace Miller.""
I shook it.
"Are you friends with my mother?""
His smile faded slightly.
"No. But my dad knew her.""
He glanced toward the entrance, where the other bikers were waiting.
"Actually, there's something I need to tell you.""
"What?""
Jace took a breath.
"Remember the old man sitting outside the grocery store last month? The one you bought a sandwich for?""
I remembered immediately.
It had been raining that afternoon. An elderly man was sitting beneath the store's awning, soaked through and shivering.
I'd bought him a sandwich, coffee, and a dry sweatshirt from the clearance rack.
He'd tried to refuse the sweatshirt.
I'd insisted.
"Yes," I answered.
Jace's eyes became glassy.
"That was my father.""
I smiled.
"Is he doing okay?""
Jace looked down.
"No, Emily. He passed away two weeks ago.""
My smile disappeared.
"Oh. I'm so sorry.""
He nodded.
"His name was Walter Miller. Before he died, he made us promise something.""
"What?""
Jace reached inside his leather jacket.
He pulled out a small envelope.
"He told us that if you ever graduated, we had to make sure you didn't spend that day alone.""
I stared at the envelope.
On the front, someone had written my name.
Then Jace added something that made my entire body go cold.
"My dad also told me he had something that belonged to your mother.""
He placed the envelope in my hands.
And when I saw the photograph inside, I almost dropped it.
May you like
Because the woman holding the baby in that picture was my mother.
And she'd been standing beside a man I'd never seen before.
