“I know if we choose to pursue this, it’ll be hard. And I know you think that’s it’s all one-sided. That it’ll be worse for you because of who I am. But it’s actually just as complicated for me.”
“Because of who my father is.”
I nod. “A lot of people won’t trust you. I won’t sugarcoat it. You’ll be kept at arm’s length, given the side-eye, and excluded from conversations purely because your last name is Green.”
“So, no different to life as it already is, then?”
Never thought of it that way.
I take her hand and lead her toward the bike, testing the darkened path before guiding her safely through. “Why were you so shy in school?”
She’s quiet behind me, yet her hand doesn’t falter in mine.
“I don’t ask to be critical,” I explain. “Curious, is all.”
“I know.” Her words are so soft I almost miss them. Another tense minute passes with me picking my way out to the road and her close behind. “I never knew who I could trust.”
“In what way?”
We break through to the bike, its outline ghostly in the faint light.
“I learned fast that some people wanted to be my friend so they could hear the juicy behind the scenes of what goes in Temperance, and some wanted to be my friend thinking that it gave them a get out of jail free card. Some just thought I’d be handy to keep around since I tended to be a pushover. And some figured being my friend made them look cooler.” She lets go of my hand and wanders over to fuss with her helmet. “I learned fast that it hurt less to be lonely than to be constantly betrayed or disappointed.”
I might not have had the best upbringing, but at least I always had a family—whether related by blood or the patch, it didn’t matter. I had people in my life who were there for me, always, and she had what? An overbearing father and a complicit mother?
It doesn’t seem right.
“I won’t let you down.”
He lifts her head, soft gaze portraying her pain. “You don’t know that.”
“I promise.” She deserves the fucking world, and if I’m the only asshole willing to give her that, then the best I can do is try. “Come on. I’ll get you home before you catch a chill.” I’d offer her something warmer to wear, but my arms are like ice as it is in my short sleeves.
“Thanks.”
We steal away into the night at a quiet idle, taking the direct route back to her parents’ house a little slower so I can reduce the wind chill for her.
So I can steal extra time for myself.
Kyra stays quiet, yet her arms stay firm around me as we travel, her curves pressed against the hard planes of my back and shoulders. As she said, letting your shit out can get heavy. I’d almost put money on her being asleep within minutes of getting to bed.
The church stands sentinel in pale hues when I park the bike, almost as though it judges us, looming over our choices and actions. Kyra hops off and hands me the helmet, tugging her jacket tight after to keep out the night air.
“I’ll walk you there.”
“It’s only a street over.”
“And a lot can happen between here and there.” I won’t take no for an answer.
She sighs, and then does the least expected thing—sticks her arm out to offer me her hand. It’s intimate in a softer way than I’m used to, and it takes me a couple of seconds to get past the ingrained habit of rejecting physical touch when it’s offered to me rather than given by me.
“You surprise me and yet at the same time you don’t,” Kyra muses as we walk.
“How so?”
“I’m not surprised at how thoughtful you were today.” She offers a shy smile, dappled by the streetlight. “You always struck me as being a bit of a softie.”
“Careful.”
