Page 39 of Dravin

I’ve always wondered how much money Dravin has. When you’re by yourself, trying to puzzle out anything about the man who dropped into your life at the behest of your dead brother, your mind travels strange paths.

I tended to think it was a lot when I thought he was being paid as some kind of bounty hunter, black of night, shadowy bastard that you wouldn’t ever want to run in with. Even if he’s working for the good guys, he’s probably well paid for those jobs.

If those statues are for sale, then they’re already sold.

It’s so obvious that from the minute Dravin met Dominic, he wanted to help. He’s the kind of man who sees a need and does his damn full best to try and meet it. To alleviate pain and make the world a better place, not a shittier one.

How many people can truly say that?

“Would you like to show us around?”

“Nah. You can just go out and look all you’d like. If you find anything, come let me know. I’ll just be working in here.”

“Will do.” Dravin’s hand creeps to the small of my back, guiding me outside. He shuts the door behind him, grabs our waters from the truck, and gets his business face on.

It takes me at least twenty minutes before I’ve worked out what’s in my head enough to give voice to it. “Do you think…” He looks up from a pile of tangled metal that he’s been picking through. I thought this was all junk, but the other word I used, boneyard, is much more apt. There are pieces of antique bikes all over the place. Assembling a whole one might be nearly impossible, but Dravin’s pretty much been oozing determination since we got out here.

“Do I think that Dominic is okay out here alone?”

God, he’s good. Always in my head, sifting through my thoughts easier than I can. “Yeah. He didn’t look sad, but it’s… heartbreaking.”

“Some people like being alone.”

“It was more the devastation in his eyes when he mentioned his friend. The woman who was supposed to meet us today, so he didn’t have to. He also told us all his family is gone. Some artists are reclusive and do like being alone, but I just think that we need to do something.”

“I will.” He speaks those two words with such quiet, unshakable confidence that I one hundred percent believe that everything will be okay.

I haven’t seen this from him, not in this way. He’s never told me that everything would be okay in the end because he never wanted to lie to me, but in this, he can be perfectly honest and sincere.

I struggle to contain another overwhelming surge of emotion.

“Maybe if we find a bike and you restore it, we could bring it back out here and show Dominic after, when it’s finished. Or keep coming back to scout for parts that we might not need.”

“I don’t know that we’ll have to fake a return trip just to give him some company.” He scans the area somewhat dubiously. “This is a big task.”

“Maybe I’ll learn to ride. You could build a second bike.”

I expect him to come down hard and forbid it, but he just snaps his head up incredulously. “You’d want to do that?”

“Want is a strong word.”

Flustered at the intensity of his expression, I bend over and start shoving random pieces of metal and old parts out of the pile at my feet. “You have a good heart.”

My hands freeze on the big rusty brown chunk of something that appears to have been a door. “I used to be proud of that. I used to think it was the best thing to have in all the world despite all the hurts and the things that want to break it. That it was still there, this pure, loving organ that wanted to put good back into the world. If I was painfully anything, it was naive. Borderline pathetic too.”

“I don’t think that.”

My heart storms the gates in its eagerness to leap out of my chest and rush to him. I keep my head ducked down. It’s easier to talk this way. “But you do want to help. It’s in you to be a hero. Even after everything, you haven’t lost it.” He’s silent, so I keep going, even if it’s uncomfortable. I think we’re past things like boundaries now. “This is about you too, Dravin.” He shakes his head, but there’s no way I’m letting him offer a denial. “Yes. It is. It’s about the club now too. It’s about Dominic. It’s about the life that we’re making. It was supposed to be fake, but it’s slowly becoming something else.”

He might want to offer a denial to that too, but all he can do is stand stock still with a pained expression, so very beautiful in his imperfection.

Just like Dominic’s statues.

And just like Dominic’s work, I can’t keep the emotion of him, the very essence of his heart, from twisting around mine like thorns and digging in.

Chapter 9

Dravin

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