Colleen hates dogs. Maybe that's what first pushes Tig towards the idea of getting one. Their relationship has been rocky at best these last few months, at that stage where the only joys they can derive from each other are either finding new ways to irritate the other to entirely new levels, or aggressively fucking away their frustrations, only to begin the bickering anew immediately afterwards.
He's gradually spending less time with her and the kids and more time at the clubhouse, caught somewhere between extra jobs for Clay and the welcoming legs of crow-eaters whose names he doesn't even bother to learn. He and Kozik spend most early morning hours at the bar, unloading all the same problems and giving all the same advice and never remembering any of it by the time they're nudged awake by their brothers around midday.
Kozik likes the idea of a dog too, and he has a couch that turns into a bed back at his place that he lets Tig stay on once Colleen's patience finally wears away to nothing. Tig's definitely thrown a lot her way to deal with, he's all too aware of that, but it isn't fair on the girls now, she says, and the little crack in her voice and watery eyes as she slams the door in his face and kicks him out for good are a swift thump to the gut that he knows he deserves.
Kozik allows him a few days to binge on all the drink, hookers and 'shrooms he can get his hands on before he eventually drags Tig to the nearest shelter. "I'm telling you, man. A dog is the perfect companion," Kozik repeats over and over, man's best friend and all that, even though Tig knows all that already and doesn't need any further convincing. "They'll love you to pieces no matter what sick shit comes out your mouth," he says, flashing that grin that makes Tig desperately want to both laugh along and punch it right off his friend's face. He means to reply with something along the lines of I've already got a dumb animal following me around and begging for my attention, to push something playful and insulting Kozik's way because that's how they always are, always have been and always will be, but the blonde's watching Tig with that look on his face that he's had on all fucking week when he thinks Tig isn't looking. Goddamn pity - and of all people, Koz should know better, so Tig keeps his face hard and doesn't respond at all.
They still manage to reach a joint decision, and happily take away a particularly excitable two-year-old German Shepherd who responds to the name Missy. She's already too big to fit in Kozik's shitty apartment, but they manage. Kozik takes her out on his morning runs - for which Tig of course mocks him relentlessly. Whatever, bro, Kozik answers every time, I'll be the one outrunning the cops while you're trailing behind - and he's probably right, the bastard. Missy's content to lick affectionately at Tig's face as soon as they're back, and follows him wherever he goes for the rest of the day.
The other guys in the club take to her as quickly as she does to them, and Tig is rapidly falling in love with her. It's when he stupidly stops by the house and his baby girls wrap their little arms around her neck and hug her tight that he feels his heart either pulling itself back together or breaking apart all over again. They beg their mom to let daddy and his new doggy stay, and Colleen looks both ready to burst into tears and to choke him to death right there in front of them. Missy picks up on that, stands protectively in front of him, and he can't quite hold back the smile as he scratches behind her ear.
He does drag himself away eventually, promising the girls he'll be back soon and that he'll make sure to bring Missy with him. They hole up in a nearby cheap motel that night because he doesn't feel like riding; can't deal just yet with Kozik's - albeit affectionate - irritating questioning every time he's visited the girls. There are definite piss stains up the outside wall and dirty needles are scattered behind the dumpster just a few doors down, but Missy's turning out to be a real clever girl and already knows not to sniff around them without even being told. Tig's got three missed calls on his cell from Kozik, but he's too busy drowning all the world and its burdens out with too much whiskey and not enough weed because he's a terrible husband and an even worse father, and as much as Colleen hates him right now, as upset as the girls get when he breaks those promises of more regular visits, it doesn't compare to the shit he feels when he's alone.
He's slouched on the bed against the headboard with a cigarette hanging loosely in his hand and something heavy has dropped itself in his lap. Missy curls up there, nuzzling into his stomach a little and blinking those big brown and somehow knowing eyes at him, a soothing warmth that he never, ever wants to leave. She's all the comfort he didn't realise he needed, and he's glad she barks away the hooker he doesn't even remember calling, doesn't care anymore about Colleen, struggles to even think about Dawn and Fawn, just focuses on the unconditional love and support Missy provides in this moment, and the seven years to come.
Tig still thinks about her now, every day. Missy, his girl, his old lady. Still sees that entire nightmare playing out as though he were still there watching; hears the screech of Kozik's bike tyres, the unmistakable thump of a collision. Sees the unmoving, crippled form in the Teller-Morrow parking lot, the dazed look in Kozik's eyes that only appears when he's reverted back to junkie habits and shot heroin into his favourite vein. Tig can still feel the dull ache in his knuckles that had lingered days after he'd punched that fucker half to death.
He sometimes toys with the idea of getting a new dog. Something to fill that hole in his life that had been apparent the moment Missy was gone, but had unexpectedly expanded massively since Kozik had managed to go and get himself blown to pieces. He's glad they managed to resolve their shit before that happened, and thinks maybe the next dog he gets will be called Koz. Maybe even Herman, just because he knows Kozik would fucking hate it.
He laughs to himself at that, once again tugging that old photograph out of his wallet. He knows well enough, deep down where all his instinct and passion and everything that makes him who he's turned out to be is stored, that he won't be able to replace either one of them any time soon. And he's gotta move past it, because the outlaw life doesn't hang around - and with the way the club's going, with how many times he's fucked things up and got people out for his blood? Might not be that long 'til he sees them both again anyway.