Nick had been around Cassidy Swallow-now-Gates a number of times since it all went down and that day was the first he’d seen her wear makeup.

Even made up, her hair done in big, soft curls, pulled back at the top and sides, pins hidden with fixed daisies, she still got married in a long white cotton dress that had a two foot deep hem of lace at the bottom but other than that it just looked like a seriously fucking pretty sundress.

“Happy for you,” Nick muttered, looking back to the water.

“Worried about you,” Deacon responded.

Nick returned his attention to Deacon.

“See it in your eyes,” Deacon went on quietly.

He would. Deacon had seen the same in the mirror for years.

Nick knew Deacon’s story. Nick knew Deacon descended into that foul underbelly to find his missing wife. Nick knew Deacon stayed there after what he did but especially after what he found when he located his wife. Nick knew this not because Deacon shared this information liberally to anyone who might listen. Deacon didn’t say much to anyone, except the woman he loved, the woman an hour ago he’d made his wife.

But in the past months Knight had rallied the troops to try to pull his brother’s shit together. To yank him out of his grief. To steer him from the path he was determined to tread, even if Nick had not shared that shit with anyone either.

But Knight knew.

Deacon knew.

Rhash, Raid, Marcus, Sylvie and Creed—Knight’s closest friends and strongest allies, now Nick’s friends—they all knew too.

If the same happened to them, this was the path they’d be on.

With no chance of veering off.

“I need you to teach me,” Nick said straight out.

A muscle jumped in Deacon’s cheek.

“You know I need you to teach me,” Nick pushed. “You know if you don’t, I’ll get someone else to do it. You know, Deacon.”

“Your brother wants—”

Nick shook his head. “Love my brother, means everything to me how he’s kicked in. How he’s given me his family to help me get through. But sometimes Knight can’t get what he wants. You know this is one of those times. Fuck, he knows this is one of those times.”

Nick looked beyond Deacon to the wedding-goers milling about the wildflowers, the streamers, the balloons, the tables laden with food and booze, to a band setting up well beyond the gazebo.

He looked back at Deacon.

“Enjoy your wedding. You deserve it, man. Enjoy your honeymoon. You’re in, we talk when you get back. You’re not, no hard feelings.”

Deacon moved closer.

Nick braced.