“Going already?” Jace calls from behind me.
I flick my gaze back at him. “Got shit to do.”
My friend polishes off his drink. “Wait a second. I’ll walk out with you.”
I push open the door with him on my heels. My bike waits for me out front along the curb.
“Still can’t believe you bought a motorcycle.” Jace’s chuckle is full of disbelief.
“Dude, it’s been six months. The shock value is long gone.”
“Not to me. It’s one of those exotic fantasies for a man.”
“That’s way too deep. It’s just a means of getting across town. This beauty is far cheaper than my truck to fill up. Maintenance is a breeze. A lot more fun to drive, too. And we both know you’re just jealous.”
His grin borders on ridiculous. “Fuck yes, I am. But my folks would lose their shit.”
I straddle my ride and lift the stand. “Still so concerned about what mommy and daddy dearest think?”
Jace folds his arms. “Don’t pretend you aren’t. My mom is getting more gray hair thanks to your choice of transportation.”
The never ceasing knot in my gut tightens. I keep my gaze on the setting horizon. “She shouldn’t worry about me.”
“But she does,” he reminds in a tone too soft for this conversation.
“I don’t need pity.” The accusation rips from my throat.
Jace holds up a palm. “She cares about you, we all do. That has nothing to do with feeling bad for your stubborn ass. There’s a huge difference.”
I grind my molars until dust collects. “Whatever. I gotta go.”
He scoffs and shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. Always bailing whenever the terrain gets a little tough.”
There’s no good way for me to respond. I have nothing to say that will fix this. It’s a problem I’m more than aware of. But when life continues to shove me down, finding the strength to steer on a better route loses appeal. I slide my helmet on and crank the bike to life. The sharp rip of the engine drowns out any protest Jace might be voicing. I rev several times with extra power, my grip punishing. With a swift kick, I race off toward home.
Main Street passes in a blur. I twist the throttle hard enough to send my bike up on one wheel. I’m being reckless, but my skin is itching for speed. To escape the sensation of being trapped. In the next second, I’m flying down the road far above the limit. This is the only way I truly feel free.
The yellow divider guides my way. I focus on that as everything else fades to black. The vibrations beneath me are soothing and with each passing mile, tension melts away. It’s almost impossible to hear anything above the whipping wind and roaring exhaust. But I catch the blue and red flashing lights in my mirrors.
Fuck.
I make the effort to brake quickly, not wanting to further piss off the cop behind me. I steer my bike to the gravel shoulder and kill the engine. After tugging off my helmet, I blow out a heavy breath. This should be interesting.
The echoing slap of boots on pavement warn me of the officer’s approach. I clench my eyes shut and search for patience that doesn’t exist.
“Howdy, Grady. Know why I pulled you over?”
I let my head fall. Not him. Anyone but this deputy dipshit. I glare over my shoulder at Lance Fucking Morris, also known as the biggest douchebag in Silo Springs. How he became a police officer is beyond me.
“Not a clue, man.”
Lance shifts closer and stares down his pointy nose at me. I fucking hate being on lower ground. He doesn’t deserve to make me feel small. “I’m not your buddy, Grady. Be careful with who you’re offending. You’re speaking to an officer of the law and you will do so with some respect.”
I offer him an exaggerated eye roll. “Yeah, whatever.”
“Step off the motorcycle, sir.”
“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
