A year after Dana's funeral

Fye felt ashamed of the butterflies occupying her stomach. A cemetery was no place to fall in love – and nevertheless it had happened. She had never spoken to him. She however knew he sat down at the grave of a young woman every Wednesday night. Whether it was his sister or his girlfriend, she didn't know.

It felt wrong to keep coming here. Her father's grave was no longer the only reason she visited this place; each week she caught herself hoping to get a glimpse of the biker. She even walked along the grave on purpose.

Not that he ever looked up. He was always staring forward, sometimes drinking, sometimes getting high. Always with a heartbreaking, lost expression on his face. It made her want to sit down next to him, to cuddle him.

She however never dared to come closer.

Today it was raining. With an umbrella above her head she was standing at her father's grave, staring at the letters carved into the stone. The flowers she had laid down a week ago, were the only ones decorating his final resting place. Nobody else came around. Her sister didn't want to visit the grave, neither did her mother.

After some time, the cold crept into her body and she turned away from the grave. She took her usual detour towards the exit. Despite the rain he was sitting there. His head bent, giving a clear sight on the tattoos on his scalp. Drops of water ran down his face, his clothes soaked. He didn't seem to care, as if being chased away by the rain was a way to dishonor the one he was mourning.

Fye took a deep breath. Come on. Go to him. It's only getting creepier if you wait. The gravel grind underneath her shoes as she started to move again. In silence, she sat down next to him, holding the umbrella above their heads.

He turned his head to the side, then he stared forward again.

Fye listened to the raindrops falling on the umbrella. His cramped hands told her how cold he felt and she took a bottle of vodka from her bag. After unscrewing the cap, she held out the bottle.

At first she thought he was going to ignore her, then he hesitantly took the bottle and took a gulp.

They didn't speak to each other. She thought he liked the quiet – as did she.

The next week she took flowers for the girl he was mourning. Again she sat down next to him – just because she hoped it would comfort him.

"Why are you doin' this?" he asked after at least ten minutes. His voice sounded rough, like he hadn't spoken in days.

Fye bent her head. It had just been a matter of time before he would ask that question. "I often feel lonely when I visit my father's grave, making me wish someone was with me. Not necessarily to have someone to talk to – just... someone's presence."

He was silent again, twisting one of his many rings.

"Who is she?" she carefully asked a little later. "Your girlfriend?"

"My fiance." He didn't look at her, but nodded to the side. "And my daughter's lyin' there."

Fye looked to the side and saw the small grave. The dates of death weren't the same. She wondered if the mother hadn't been able to deal with the loss of her child, but she didn't dare to ask.

Next time she would bring flowers for the little girl too.

Juice felt his heart beat faster at the sound of the crunching gravel. It confused him. Their contact was simply bizarre – although she had kept him company at Dana's grave for at least four weeks now, they hadn't said much to each other. He didn't even know her name.

Still her presence made his heart feel a little lighter, every time he went home.

He visited the grave once a week. Actually he felt the need to go more often, but this frequency helped him to keep his thoughts straight. This was the only moment of the week he let his guard down. The only moment he allowed himself to cry, to miss her. Sometimes he talked to her for hours.

The moment he left the cemetery, he put up his walls again.

His deepest feelings were intertwined with this place, and away from here he could handle his pain. He believed he was doing well – the club thought he was doing well. Everyone but Kozik believed he was doing well.

Juice wasn't sure why his friend disagreed. Maybe it was because Clay had stripped off his SAA patch when he wasn't able to kill Cherry, after which he had given it to Juice.

He was the Sergeant At Arms. Who would have imagined?

It wasn't hard to understand why Clay had done it. He wanted him to use his pain in a way the club benefited from it; and killing assholes was satisfying and had turned out to be a good outlet for his anger. Clay believed it had made him stronger. Kozik believed it had destroyed the person he once was.

Juice agreed with his president. There had been nothing left to destroy anyway.

The scent of flowers brought him back to the present when the girl sat down next to him. His breathing sped up a little when their elbows touched. Carefully, she laid down both bouquets before she looked up to him and showed him a shy smile.

Juice wanted to smile back, but he couldn't. With a pit in his stomach he turned his head away.

She was really beautiful and unbelievably sweet.

It called up a deep longing inside him – something that hadn't been there since Lotte.

He felt attracted to her, even though he had promised himself to never fall in love with a woman again. But he felt lonely. He however didn't know if someone could ever truly fill that void.

Not after what had happened to Dana. After what Lotte had done to him and what he had done to her.

"I'm Fye," she said after a while.

He looked to the side. Felt awkward. Fuck – why did he feel so clumsy? It didn't fit who he was now, girls shouldn't make him feel insecure. He took what he wanted from them – that was all.

"Juice," he answered. His voice lacked confidence.

She had seen him at his weakest moment – she had only seen him when he was vulnerable. It made her different from the rest of the world.

She fidgeted with a bracelet around her right wrist. It consisted of small silver roses. "Would you uh – would you like to go get a drink with me some day? So we can uh... so we can meet each other under different circumstances?"

Juice didn't answer immediately. Something warm slipped into his heart. It scared him – he didn't want to feel attached to a woman again, he didn't want to lose someone again. But the loneliness – it was making him tired.

"Okay," he said quietly.

He hated the tremor in his voice.

He felt weak. He was still on a place where he allowed himself to be weak, but suddenly it bothered him. Although she had sit next to him before, it felt like she had disturbed the peace he was used to find here. Restlessly, he scratched his forearm, not knowing where to look or what to do. He wanted to back out, but he couldn't find the right words.

"Great!" Her voice sounded melodic, light. Very different from the slight husky edge of Dana's voice. "Friday at Harvey's? At eight?"

Juice noticed that he was nodding. Quickly he stopped doing so, but she already showed him a sweet smile conforming their appointment.

"See you Friday!" she said. Very briefly her hand touched his knee, then she stood up and walked away, as if she was afraid he would change his mind otherwise.

Juice watched her leave, his eyes wide because he felt so overwhelmed.

Had she really asked him out at the grave of his fiance?