The bearded man stared at the little girl like the past had just climbed into the booth beside him.

“Rose?” he whispered.

The girl nodded, tears slipping through the dirt on her cheeks.

“She told me the wolf men were safe.”

The young man near the door took a step closer.

“She’s lying,” he snapped. “She’s confused.”

The bearded man finally stood.

Slowly.

The whole diner seemed smaller when he did.

Behind him, the older bikers stopped eating. Chairs creaked. Coffee cups lowered. Every man with that same black wolf patch turned toward the door.

The girl clutched the bearded man’s vest.

“She said your name was Jack,” she whispered.

His eyes filled before he could stop them.

Rose had once stitched that patch onto his vest herself. Rose had once promised she would come back when it was safe. Rose had disappeared before he ever knew why.

Jack looked down at the child.

“What’s your name?”

“Maya.”

His face broke.

That was the name Rose wanted for their daughter.

The young man reached toward her.

“Enough. She’s coming with me.”

Jack stepped in front of him.

“No,” he said quietly. “She’s not.”

The girl pulled a folded photo from her hoodie pocket with shaking fingers.

Rose stood in the picture, holding a newborn baby, wearing Jack’s old wolf patch around her neck.

On the back, written in faded ink, were the words:

If I don’t make it, take her to Jack. He’s her father.

Jack’s hand covered his mouth.

The little girl looked up at him, terrified of the answer.

“Are you him?”

Jack dropped to one knee beside her, rough hands trembling.

“Yes,” he whispered. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t there sooner.”

Maya’s face crumpled.

Then she fell into his arms like she had been running for years.