“Gimme a hug,” he whispered, giving Christopher a tug. As the boy turned his body into Hawk’s and wrapped his skinny arms around his neck, Hawk squeezed his eyes tightly shut and put every ounce of himself into that hug.

“You take care of your mom,” he whispered, burying his face into his son’s hair. “Promise me you’ll take care of your mom.”

Against his shoulder he felt Christopher’s head nod, and that was good enough for him.

Opening his eyes, he found Tegen already waiting to take Christopher. His chest aching, he nodded at her and released his son.

“Come here, little brother,” Tegen said softly.

Christopher clung to him, refusing to budge, and when Hawk tried to forcefully pry him from his body, the boy let out a small sob. In that moment, at the sound of his son crying, Hawk could no longer keep it together. Cupping the back of his son’s head, holding his small body tightly to him, he let his own tears fall, uncaring who saw them, and just held his boy as close as he could. Because, god-fucking-dammit, the next time he’d have this chance, to be free to hold his boy, his boy was going to be a man.

He was going to miss it all.

And if that wasn’t bad enough, what came next was as equally miserable.

Once Christopher was in Tegen’s arms and Cage was helping Hawk to his feet, the rest of the boys began to get up from their seats. One by one they lined up by the door, their expressions ranging from solemn to just plain sad.

Holding Christopher tightly to her, Tegen grabbed Hawk’s hand, threaded her fingers through his, and gave his hand a hard squeeze. It was a surprising gesture, coming from Tegen, but one that Hawk welcomed.

“Come back to them,” she whispered. “Come back to them or I’ll come kill you.”

Using the crutch under his right arm to hold his weight, he reached for Tegen. He wrapped his hand around the back of her head and pulled her forward to kiss her soundly on her cheek. Then, after doing the same to Christopher, he started for the boys.

It was slow going with those damn crutches of his, only making the journey across the room even worse, forcing him to look longer at all those forlorn faces awaiting him.

Mick was first, and that damn softie of an old man pulled him into a gripping hug. “Might be dead by the time you get out, so I’m givin’ your ass a fuckin’ hug.”

Beside him, Freebird snorted. “He ain’t gonna be dead,” the old hippie said. “But I will, so come ’ere and lay some sugar on me, darlin’.”

As Freebird hugged him, giving him a purposely sloppy kiss on the cheek, a titter of laughter trickled down the line of men.

Next was Dirty, and knowing that the man hated any sort of physical contact with anyone, Hawk simply held out his fist, waiting for a tap. But Dirty surprised everyone by taking Hawk’s fist between both his hands and squeezing.

“I’ll see you later, brother,” the man said. Touched, Hawk could only nod in response.

He continued down the line, saying good-bye to Bucket, Worm, Danny D. and Danny L., Tap, Anger, and Chips, and then to the nomads Marsh, Dimebag, and Tramp. Handshakes, back slaps, and more hugs than he’d ever been given before in his life were all exchanged.

When he reached Cox, despite his black eye and swollen lip, courtesy of Kami, the asshole was grinning.

“Remember,” Cox said. “Don’t be droppin’ the fuckin’ soap, brother.”

Snorting, Hawk crooked a finger. “Come here, asswipe,” he said and when Cox leaned in, Hawk grabbed the back of his head and pulled him into a hug.

“You and Kami,” Hawk whispered. “Don’t let whatever bullshit she’s always spoutin’ come between you two. You keep her happy, keep you happy, and I can fuckin’ promise you, I won’t be droppin’ any soap.”

Shoving a surprised Cox away from him, Hawk gave him a light slap across the face, flashed him a very Cox-like grin, and then turned away to face Ripper, the last man in line.

Hawk loved all his brothers, but like in all groups of friends or clubs, some people were closer than others. And although Hawk had made a point to never really get close to anyone so he could keep his past where it belonged—in the past—he’d been a loner.

So when it came to having actual friends, he didn’t have a damn one, but what he did have was Ripper. They’d clicked in some way, leaving Hawk always feeling comfortable in his presence. In his own way he’d looked out for Ripper and Ripper for him, kept each other’s secrets, and always had each other’s back. That was mutual respect, brothers to the end, and to Hawk that was far better than having a “friend.”

“My boy—” Hawk started and Ripper immediately shook his head.

“You don’t gotta ask,” he said. “Dude, you know I got you.”

Then Hawk handed Ripper his crutches, and after awkwardly shrugging out of his cut, took back his crutches and handed over his vest.

“You’re gonna be wearin’ this again,” Ripper said. “You fuckin’ will, brother.”

“Damn straight,” was Hawk’s answer. And as Ripper pulled him into a hug, Hawk might have hugged the man a little tighter than he’d hugged the others.

And lastly, were Deuce and Eva. Standing side by side near the door, Eva gestured for him to come to her. As she wrapped her arms around his middle, Hawk rested his chin on top of her head, keeping his eyes on Deuce.

“Keep an eye on that old man of yours,” he said softly. “I want him bossin’ my ass around the second I get outta there.”

“I promise,” she whispered, sniffing as she pulled away.

With Deuce by his side, Hawk turned around to look at the club and the boys one last time. He took it all in, the building he called home, the faces of the men he called brothers, before his gaze stopped on Christopher, and the tears running down the boy’s cheeks. When he couldn’t take another fucking second of it, seeing all that love and sadness—especially from his son—and all of it for him, he turned around and walked the fuck out.

“I’ll be in the truck,” Deuce muttered, storming past him. “Take as long as you need.”

Hawk took a moment to look around the parking lot, searching out Dorothy. The past few weeks had brought along a wave of unseasonably warm weather that melted most of the snow in the lot, but it was still damn cold. So when he found her leaning against her vehicle without a warm coat on, staring off at nothing for fuck only knew how long, he grew instantly pissed off.

“Woman,” he growled, hopping as fast as he could in her direction.

Startled, she turned toward him, and even from this distance he could see the tears rolling down her cheeks. Judging by the red blotches covering her usually ivory skin, and her bloodshot and puffy eyes, she’d obviously been crying for a while now.

“I’m sorry,” she said, hiccupping. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t do this. I thought I could, that I could be strong, but who was I kidding? I’ve never been strong! And I can’t be strong now!”

He reached her just as she was about to continue, dropped his crutches, and used his body to push her back against the car door. Standing on one leg, balancing himself with one hand on the vehicle’s roof, he bore down on her with a frown.

“You are strong,” he said forcefully. “You are one of the strongest females I’ve ever fuckin’ met. And before you start spoutin’ off more of your usual bullshit at me, I’m gonna repeat myself. Dorothy Kelley, you are strong. Look at all the shit you’ve lived through. All that pain, D, that would have killed most people. You aren’t most people, you’re fuckin’ special, knew that shit from the moment I saw you. Young and stupid, not havin’ a clue about life, but once life started smacking you around, what the fuck did you do? Did you lay down and die?”

Staring up at him, still crying, Dorothy shook her head. “No,” she whispered tearfully.

“And you ain’t gonna lay down and die now, are you?”

Her body seemed to deflate, her pinched features relaxed, and with a large exhalation of air, she shook her head again. “No,” she whispered. “No, I’m not.”

“Good,” he said softly. Sliding his free arm around her back, he pulled her up against him.

“Good,” he said soothingly. “Now say good-bye to your man.”

Her trembling lips exploded in a tear-filled, snot-filled breath, and just like that she was sobbing uncontrollably again.

Shaking his head, Hawk tried to situate his body in a more comfortable position against the car in a way that allowed him to both hold her and kiss her at the same time. Once he’d gotten that out of the way, snot and tears be dammed, he bent his head and body and covered her mouth with his.

He’d planned on kissing her slowly, thinking that was what she wanted, a good-bye that was soft and sweet, but Dorothy had different plans. With a muffled cry, she grabbed his jacket collar and practically scaled his body. As he fought for his footing, she was already clinging to him, kissing him hard and fast, messy and wet, full of tongue and full of desperation.

Clutching at whatever he could and only standing on one foot, he used all his strength to swing her around, slamming her into the car window. Her leg wound around his hip, his hand gripped her hair, and he kissed her back, every bit as hard as she was giving it to him.

And he didn’t want to stop; he didn’t want to fucking let her go.

He didn’t ever want to let her go.

Until he had to let her go.

“Save that ride for me, D,” he said softly, letting her drop to the ground.

“No,” she cried, grasping for him. “No, Hawk, don’t you leave!”

Clenching his jaw, Hawk reached for his crutches while she continued to grab at his clothing.