Elias shook his head.
"No."
"Why?"
"Because I remember being young."
Cole looked down.
"You were never like me."
"You don't know that."
Silence.
Elias continued.
"You're standing at a crossroads. You can spend the next twenty years blaming everybody else."
Cole looked up.
"Or?"
"You can admit what you did."
Cole's eyes filled with tears.
"I don't know how."
Elias stood.
"Start with the truth."
Cole nodded.
For the first time since Elias had met him, the young man looked smaller than his reputation.
Maybe redemption did not begin with forgiveness.
Maybe it began with honesty.
Months passed.
Victor went to trial.
The evidence from the old metal container reopened several cases.
The Rusty Spur reopened too.
But Elias changed one thing.
He removed the old photograph from behind the counter.
He replaced it with a new one.
It showed the old brotherhood standing outside the diner.
Everyone was smiling.
Even Elias.
One Sunday morning, Marcus arrived.
"Ride?"
Elias looked at him.
"I haven't ridden in years."
Marcus tossed him a helmet.
"Then today is a good day to start."
Elias laughed.
"You always were persistent."
Outside, dozens of motorcycles waited.
Elias climbed onto an old black machine.
The engine came alive.
For a moment, he closed his eyes.
He heard the familiar rumble.
Felt the vibration beneath him.