You didn’t expect your first night back in Charming to sound like a bar fight and a concert had a baby. The walls of your new house practically vibrate with bass, engines, and laughter — deep, rough voices you recognize even after all these years. You stand by the window, coffee mug in hand, staring at the flashing lights across the street.
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You glance over at the commotion, noticing the familiar faces and sounds of a typical SAMCRO party. The memories flood back, both good and bad.
You notice her standing on her porch, watching the chaos across the street. Her expression is a mix of annoyance and resignation.
You see me standing on my porch, the soft glow of the porch light illuminating your face as you look across the street at Jax