Outside, the parking lot was as packed as inside the chapel. Fire snapped and popped in the oil drum and meats were coming off the grill, stacked on platters, and taken into the clubhouse.
Because I didn’t really know anyone, no one stopped me as I quickened my pace and strode with purpose down the sidewalk circling the church. At the end of the building, I turned the corner and found McKelle at her bike, putting on her helmet.
She tugged it back off as I approached. Tears shimmered in her eyes and streaked her cheeks. I didn’t ask, I simply wrapped my arms around her and pulled her hard against me.
Folding her arms into her chest, she burrowed into me, and her body broke on a sob. Her shoulders shook with emotion. She cried with muffled breaths.
“I hate him,” she whispered.
“If you hated him, you wouldn’t care.”
But I hated this for her. I’d felt the pain of betrayal enough times in my life to know that there was no emotional armor against it. Betrayal hit hard because the pain inflicted was always by someone trusted. Hundred percent.
Her hair was like silk as it sifted through my fingers. For several long moments, we just stood there. Me trying to offer comfort, and McKelle soaking my shirt with tears.
Finally, she eased back and lifted her face. “Thanks,” she whispered.
“You shouldn’t ride when you’re upset.”
She dried her cheeks with her fingertips. “I know, but I can’t stay here.”
“I’ll give you a ride home. You can come back for your bike later.”
“I just want to go home.” She straddled her bike. “I won’t bore you with the details, but I think it’s obvious I’m not good company. I’m leaving, and I’m not coming back. Ever.” She pulled on her helmet, keeping the face shield open, and started the engine.
“I’ll ride with you.”
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” She revved the engine, released the clutch, and rode out of the parking lot. I headed back around the building. As soon as she cleared the compound, the scream of her bike’s engine echoed into the night, fading into the distance.
McKelle
Lights were on in the house. I couldn’t face my dad, not tonight. Not after I’d just begged him to be nice to my asshole, cheating, god-I-hate-him,ex-boyfriend.
Not when my eyes burned from crying and my heart was shredded by his lies. Instead, I rode my bike into the garage and parked it next to my dad’s Ducati. He didn’t race much anymore, but like me, the track was in his blood.
Life was strange sometimes. I was just like my dad, and growing up, my brother had been a mini version of my mom. He rode dirt bikes. He was so good, winning motocross championships. They said he had natural talent. He liked racing, but helovedanimals.
I imagined he might’ve been a veterinarian. Those strays my dad bitched about were always pet projects for my brother. He never met a critter he couldn’tconvert into a pet. Cece was going to be like me and Dad. She was already addicted to adrenaline. She loved bikes and racing.
I hoped she never fell in love with a biker.
Instead of going into the house, I shed my gear and climbed the stairs to the loft. I pulled one of the quilts my mom made from the stack in the corner, stretched out on the big leather couch, and snuggled under the blanket. A fresh wash of tears wet my cheeks. My phone vibrated in my pocket again.
I still didn’t want to look. Cruz was blowing up my phone the same way he’d blown up my life. I pulled it from my pocket and stared at the screen.
Cruz: Where are you?
Cruz: I just talked to Blue. Answer your phone. It’s not what you think.
Cruz: Micki please let me explain.
Cruz: WTF? This is the best night of my life. I need you here with me.
Cruz: Come on, McKelle. You know I haven’t fucked around on you. I promised. Are you home?
Blue: Will you please respond to Cruz? He’s been drinking, and he’s threatening to ride over to your house.
Cruz: Fuck, Micki, don’t do this to us. Let me explain.
