Hey Sport,

I’m sitting here alone in the Keep. The whole clubhouse is empty, nobody around but me, most of the lights off, and it’s lonely. But just about everywhere is lonely these days. The whole town. People I’ve known all my life treat me like a stranger now. Worse than that. Like an outsider.

I hate the way people look at me now. They see me for the outlaw I am. I never felt comfortable with everybody looking to me as their savior, but I guess I got used to it, because it hurts, now that it’s gone.

Even here in the Keep, I’m lonely. I sit at this table I fucking made with my two hands, and I look around at my brothers and see the damage I’ve done with all my bad calls. I got us into this, and I can’t see the way out. They don’t look at me like they blame me, but I blame myself enough for all of them.

Everything’s so fucked up, Lilli. I don’t know what to do. We’ve lost so much, and we keep losing, and I don’t know how to turn things around.

You know, I started this because I was thinking about you, and I realized the date. It’s Valentine’s Day. I sat down to write you a love letter, not whine about how things are. Looks like I should start again.

Or maybe not. No, I’m going to keep writing, see where this goes. Because with all the shit around me, all the loss and blood and pain around us all, I’ve got one thing keeping me going, keeping me trying.

I’ve got you.

I’m full of rage every day. Rage and powerlessness. I feel it so much it makes my body sore. It rides me hard and wears me down. But then I go into our house, I sit down with you and the kids, and I’m okay.

The only place I don’t feel lonely is our house. The only place in my life I feel like a decent man is with you and the kids. Everywhere else I look, I see the mistakes I’ve made, the hurt I’ve caused. I’ve let everybody down.

But not you. Somehow, I haven’t let you down.

When you look at me, I feel what you see. I feel strong. I feel decent. I hold Gia and Bo, these spectacular human beings we made together, both of them made in times of trouble, and I remember how fucking strong we are together. How strong you make me by loving me like you do.

You’re too smart, too tough—not to mention too impatient—to love somebody who’s not worth it. When I’m with you, when I feel you loving me, I feel my worth, and I know we’re going to figure this shit out. I’m going to pull the Horde out of the dark, we’re going to get Signal Bend back on track, we’re going to get this Perro bullshit behind us, and we are going to be strong again. We will find a way.

As long as I’ve got you, there will always be a way. As long as you love me, then I’m strong enough to be what everybody needs me to be. To be the man you see.

At home I’m not lonely, and I’m not weak. That old house full of generations of Lunden history, some of it fucking dark, is where I have the life we’ve made together, the life you keep going every day, and I’m whole and strong.

Almost six years later, I still marvel at how unbelievably lucky I am that you drove that old Camaro SS down Main Street and walked your magnificent ass into Tuck’s. The mysterious, gorgeous stranger who wouldn’t tell me her name.

I fucking love you, Sport. And I will not let you down.

Isaac