After frantically making love again, I’d left Dante dozing in the bedroom once again to make lunch. Bear watched me move around the kitchen, his lazy eyes following me as I opened cabinets and the fridge, trying to find something to cook. There wasn’t much outside of sandwich makings, so I set about making a few for us.

I knew Dante would be starving by the time he woke up since both of us had skipped breakfast and spent the last few hours fucking like rabbits. Talking seemed useless and we were getting nowhere, so by the time he’d kissed me, I just submitted to his touch and let him take me back to the bedroom…again.

This was becoming a habit, I thought.

It was just so much easier than fighting, though. So much better than flinging accusing words at each other.

Yeah, okay, so he’d lied to me, but I could almost understand why. He didn’t have the same trust in my father that I did, and that made sense, because who in their right mind would?

My father’s reputation preceded him, always. I’d learned that long ago. I learned it by the look in a stranger’s eye as soon as they learned who my father was. It never failed. In fact, I’d even go so far as to say most people didn’t trust me either when they learned my last name.

I guess that’s why I’d been so into Dante not knowing who I was at first. That’s what was so thrilling about going into Otto’s in the first place. I’d spent all my life wishing I was someone else. It was nice to pretend for a minute.

Unfortunately, there was no more pretending. The proverbial cat was out of the bag.

I’d just finished cutting up a tomato, when Bear began whining at the door. I put the knife down and wiped my hands on a towel and walked to the door to let him out. The morning sun had moved overhead, shining directly down on the cabin, the dew on the leaves long dried up. Birds chirped loudly, their song so clear and beautiful out here in the peacefulness of the woods.

I wasn’t used to all this peace and quiet, and I wondered if I’d ever be able to live in a place like this. So secluded from everyone. So shut-off from the hustle and bustle of the street. I was used to the frantic pace of the city, the kids playing on the sidewalks, their moms sitting on the stoops of their brownstones watching them, gossiping with the other moms. I guess I’d always pictured my life to be like that. More of the same. Every day the same. The same people. The same places. The same conversations.

Dante lived a whole different life than I did. It seemed to suit him, though. I guess when you’ve been to war, your need for peace and quiet becomes greater when you return. I thought of Dante, and my heart softened. He’d been through a lot. Growing up in Queens was hard enough. But then he’d lost Maggie. He’d gone to war. I couldn’t even imagine the things he’d seen, and to be honest, I didn’t want to. It was too much to think about. Too painful to think about the man I cared about going through all of that.

But all of it made me wonder how much pain and grief he was holding in. Years had passed, but that kind of pain stays with you, that kind of experience lingers long after you’ve left it behind.

And yet, there was still something so gentle about him. He was full of pride. He was stubborn. He was fucking strong as a bull, and yet he touched me as if he thought I might break sometimes. And then there were those moments when he lost himself, and his touch became more forceful, more desperate, more like he was searching for something, for something that he couldn’t quite reach.

I shook my head, watching Bear pee against a tree, my head swimming with thoughts of Dante. I was falling for him, I knew it now. There was something about him that I was not going to be able to easily shake.

Once again, part of me wished like hell we’d met under different circumstances. Wishing was going to get me nowhere, though. I had to play the hand I was dealt, whether I liked it or not.

Bear spotted a squirrel and darted into the woods.

“Bear - no!” I whispered, not wanting to wake up Dante by yelling. We were right outside of his bedroom window. “Dammit!” I muttered, following him into the woods.

I couldn’t believe how fast he’d run away, considering he usually took at least three minutes to get to his feet.

He was deep in the woods before I could catch him, so I trailed after him, the leaves crunching under my feet with every step. He rounded a corner and disappeared and I sighed, following along as quickly as I could.

His barking became louder and frantic and I felt sorry for the squirrel that he’d most likely been chasing. I turned the corner and screamed when I saw the sight in front of me.

Bear was growling, low and deep, his teeth bared, his eyes wide and menacing. A very large man was standing in front of him, backed into a tree and holding his shaking hands up to hold him off.

My mouth dropped open, and I looked on in awe at the hair standing up on the back of Bear’s neck.

I looked back to the man and noticed his cut. The skull patch above his name was instantly recognizable.

The Iron Godz.