Page 65 of Dravin

It wasn’t just bringing this bike back to life that drew the club together.

It was the idea of hope that it represented.

Tyrant okayed the idea, and this ride was set into motion. The guys are even willing to take their bikes down back gravel roads to be there for it.

I told Dominic that the bike was finished and asked if I could bring it around for him to see it, and while I was doing that, would it be okay if some of the guys from the club came out and took a look at his work? He left me onreadfor three days, but then finally agreed.

We turn off as a unit down the grid road. It hasn’t rained for a few days, and it immediately means eating a bunch of dust. The pack fans out, though most of us have full helmets on, or some type of eye protection and bandanas.

The closer we get, the more anxious I am.

I’m no stranger to nerves. I had plenty of anxiety growing up, caring for an alcoholic father who was supposed to be raising me, taking care that no one found out it was actually the other way around, so that I didn’t get ripped away from him and putinto the system. As bad as it was that little trailer, it would have killed me to be ripped away from it.

I’m normally good at packing my emotions away, especially when it comes to doing my duty. It’s only lately that the neatly sealed vault in my chest has burst wide open and everything keeps spilling out haphazardly.

I’ve been worried for the better part of this ride that Dominic will think this was done out of pity. What if he doesn’t want the bike, or refuses it? I’m bringing more than a few people with me, and I was honest about that, but at the same time, I hope it doesn’t traumatize him. Dominic doesn’t need rescuing or saving any more than I did at any time in my life. It’s the stark loneliness in him that cried out for me to do something. I’ve been on this earth long enough and met enough people that I’ve become a good enough judge of what’s in a person’s heart and Dominic is made up of something gentle and beautiful. It’s carved right into his work that he sees the world in a way that other people just can’t.

The first bikes start turning off at the dome. It’s unmistakable from the road, even if it is set back down the long driveway.

By the time I pull up, Dominic is already standing outside his shop, dusty jeans, work boots, and a black hoodie pulled tight around his face to obscure most of it.

He has a hard, wary expression until all the bikes are silenced. The guys stand back and let me walk to the front and offer Dominic my hand. I shake his left again and pull him in to clap him on the back.

His keen eyes scan the small crowd. Willa and Kael are near the back of it, standing together. Tyrant headed the pack,followed by Raiden. Crow came with us, Atlas, Gunner, Bullet, and unfortunately, the two loudest mouth twins to ever walk this planet—Decay and Grave.

“That’s quite a sight. A little like Armageddon rolling up on you,” Dominic grunts. He instinctively turns his ruined right side away and I step there, flanking him. I blame years of training at a formative age for the fact that it’s only natural for me to do it, but in this case, I can see his appreciation mirrored in the look he shoots my way.

I make the introductions. I don’t need to state anyone’s rank. It’s there on the patches on their vests and jackets.

“And this is Willa,” Kael says, pushing her way to the front. She throws her arms around Dominic, who stands there, surprised and still as one of his carvings. “How are you doing, Dom?”

I put a hand cautiously on Kael’s arm, but Dominic’s wary expression fades, replaced with a shy smile. Kael is magical that way, where her presence hits you and does something irrevocable to you.

“I own an antique shop in Hart,” Willa explains, taking Kael’s hand when she steps back, but talking to Dominic. “Would it be okay if I looked around? There are so many treasures here that it’s impossible to ignore their sweet siren call.”

Dominic clamps his hand around the back of his neck, covered by his hoodie. “Sure,” he mumbles, mouth twitching. “Take whatever you want.”

“Oh, no. Not take! I’m happy to pay you a good price for anything that I want to give a new home to.”

Dominic flushes and scuffs the gravel with the toe of his boot. “Alright.”

“I’m going to look with her,” Kael announces, which nearly draws a groan and a hard protest from me, but Atlas comes up and drapes his arms around Willa’s waist. He kisses the side of her neck.

“I’ll help them look. Do the heavy lifting. Pretty sure that’s the only reason that Willa keeps me around.”

She swats his shoulder. “Babe. I keep telling you, that’s only part of it. It’s totally what you can do with your hands.”

Atlas is a good guy. Young, sometimes loud, a great mechanic. I’m pretty sure that though he’s Hollywood gorgeous and a bit of a mama’s boy, a hometown hero because he was born and raised in Hart, that the currents of who he really is run quite deep. He’s smart under that beautiful, easy going exterior—the kind of smart that has the wheels constantly churning.

He and Willa are a good match. She’s sassy and sweet, but you can just tell that she’d turn into a raging she-bear if anyone ever dared to hurt her man, and if anyone fucked with her, that would be the end of his easy going anything.

I give one of those manly nods to Atlas that also conveys my massive relief. “Watch out for rusty nails and stuff. They’re not wearing boots like we are.” Code for,thanks for keeping them both safe while I’m going to be inside and won’t be able to keep an eye out.

He nods. “Will do.”

“Rusty stuff is the best!” Willa squeals, rubbing her hands together in excitement. “And I always have a pair of gloves and adust mask in the car at the ready.” She glances at Kael and then back at me. “We’ll be fine.”

I nod, trying to be casual about it while the rest of the guys move inside to check out Dominic’s shop and his work. The inside is so spacious that it doesn’t take long for the group to fan out.

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