“Dragon man, the men are starting to ask questions,” Dance says, coming into the main room of the club.

I’m sitting at the bar, doing what I’ve done almost every day for the last week; ever since my run-in with Nicole. Life doesn’t suck as bad if you’re drunk off your ass through most of it. Dance sits beside me, and I wish he’d fuck off.

“About what?” I say, downing another shot.

“Shit, man, everything. You’ve not even had the vote about Crusher. The whole fucking place is in limbo.”

“Fuck the club. It’s already cost me too much. You can have it. There, problem fucking solved.”

“It hasn’t cost you shit. You haven’t even got off your drunk ass to go see your son in over a week. You haven’t been by to check on your woman. Not once man, that shit is wrong.”

“I check on my son,” I argue, because that shit needs to be shut down. The rest of it can go to hell.

“You call, you’ve not seen him one time, Drag. You and me? We know more than most how cold that shit is. Your boy needs you.”

“Nicole is there.”

“So? What the hell man? Did you lose your fucking balls in that explosion?”

I don’t answer him. Instead, I stare at my glass, contemplating another shot. What I don’t tell him, what I can’t tell him? Is simple. I can’t see Nicole and not touch her. I can’t handle the hate in her eyes, her coldness towards me. It’s just something I am not strong enough to survive again. If that makes me weak, whatever. It’s just another reason the club is in better hands with Dancer.

“Fuck it. You want to drink yourself into a bottle, do it, but don’t blame me if you lose any chance with your woman.”

Dancer walks off. I should celebrate. So, I down another shot. How many does that make? It’s a little fuzzy.

“He’s right, you know.”

I turn at the quiet voice from the hall. Dani looks around the room carefully, and then slowly makes her way to the bar when she sees everyone has left. I’ve seen very little of her since things have gone down. The Dani of today is not the same bitter bitch; she’s afraid of her damn shadow. She wears clothes so baggie that you could fit three of her in them. Her hair is down and around her face, and the long sleeves hide her hands, completely. If I could bring Kavanagh back and kill the mother fucker again, I would. Only this time I’d shoot his dick off first, because I don’t know what went down while he had Dani, but this woman screams of being raped.

“Right about what?” I ask, not looking at her, because even drunk, I know she hates it when people look at her now.

“You need to wake Nicole up—prove to her you want her.”

“I’ve tried, she’s the one that sent me packing, D, not the other way around.”

“She’s hurt. All her life people have overlooked her, forgotten her, or just decided shit for her. You had to know what you did would hurt her.”

“What do you suggest?” I can’t believe I’m asking her for advice, but I figure she knows Nicole better than anyone, apparently even me.

“It’s time to grovel, big boy,” she says, and I can almost see a flash of the old Dani, and shit, who knew that I would actually…miss her.

“Grovel?” I ask, putting my shot glass down.

“Beg, crawl, plead…surely those aren’t totally foreign words to you, Dragon.”

“Pretty damn close,” I admit, honestly.

“Start with sending her flowers and a note saying you’re sorry you’re an idiot.”

“An idiot?” I ask.

“What else do you call letting your pregnant wife think you were dead, and then accusing her of having sex in a limo with another man?”

“I didn’t accuse her of that shit,” I argue holding my head down, because I know I’m wrong. I hadn’t even thought about it really, but in a way, I guess I did. I didn’t mean it, it was just the shock of opening the door and seeing that shit, and on top of all the other crap that had just gone down…Fuck.

“Get to work, Dragon. Don’t let me down, I need to believe there’s at least one good man left in this world,” she says, getting up and walking carefully back towards the hall. She’s still not walking great, she has so many scars on her; it’s not funny, but I think the biggest ones are where people can’t see them. “You might think about cutting Zander some slack too, Dragon.”

“I don’t think so.” Yeah, that’s not going to happen.

“Everyone messes up, Dragon, apparently, even you,” she says and then leaves.

It appears I need to grovel. I think I’ll start with a damn shower.

A couple hours later, I’m sober as hell. I can tell by the way my head is pounding. Still, I make it to the hospital in time for the last visitation time with my son. I thought Nicole would be there, but she’s not.

“Where’s my…where’s Nicole?” I ask the nurse on duty.

“She called in, apparently, she has a fever. She’s not allowed to visit with Dom like that. His immune system is too weak.”

I nod, absently thinking of Nicole sick. Then I hear what she called baby C. She must have him confused with another kid. I guess it happens, but I don’t especially like it. I walk over to sit down by him. There’s a lot of changes just in a week. He’s still so tiny, but even I can tell his color and other things are better. I wish like hell we could take those damn wires and tubes out. I reach my hand in to place my finger against his tiny palm. He tries to wrap his around it, he can’t, but the slight movement makes me smile. I look down at the note card in front of his case-like thing. They call it an incubator, but I don’t really care for that term.

Dominic West.

My heart stutters. She named our baby after one of my men. It’s a good name, a really fucking good name. It’s one I would have picked. Nicole had to know I would. Why did she change it? I want to ask, but right now just knowing she did is enough. I sit and talk with my son the rest of the time, apologizing for being an asshole and promising to do my best to get his family back together. I missed the little guy. How does someone so small own all of you even before he takes a breath?

I’m too wound up when I leave the hospital. I need to check on Nicole. I know she might not want to see me, but I know Dance and Carrie are spending the weekend at Dance’s mom’s house. I don’t want her to be alone and sick. I run by the store and pick up some Sprite and canned soup, store it in my bags and head out.

I pull into the driveway thinking back to that first day I met Nicole. Mostly I remember her sassy mouth and the way she put those barely-there shoes on her feet. As I walk towards the small paved step, in front of the kitchen door, groceries in hand, I recall that first kiss…that first taste of her. The way her ass felt in my hands, the way her mouth attacked mine and her breath against my skin. The woman owned me from that minute on, and not one second since then have I ever wanted anyone else. She’s it for me. Fuck, she always will be.

I knock on the door, wondering if she will answer it. She had to have heard my bike. I’m about to give up and leave, when it opens. Nicole is standing there with her hair a mess, her eyes watery, her nose red and her face flushed. She’s wearing a giant gray t-shirt that comes to her knees that says, Country Till I Die on it—which really doesn’t sum her up at all. I smile as I take in the shaggy socks on her feet. Some things never change.

“Dragon? Is everything okay?” she asks, surprised to see me.

I feel like a fool for standing here, and I’m unsure of what to say, so I hold up the Sprite and the bag I’m carrying, like a dumb ass.

“I thought you might be hungry.”

She freezes for a minute and looks at me. She’s studying me, I’m not sure for what. I hope she finds it. I need for her to find something in me she wants.

“The thought of food makes me cringe, but I wouldn’t mind some Sprite. My stomach is a mess,” she says backing away from the door.

I feel like I’ve won a victory, just being able to get through the door. I hope like hell I get the chance to win another one.