Elizabeth
In all the times that I had known Tara and Steele to date, one of the few smart decisions I’d ever considered her making was her refusal to get on the back of Steele’s motorcycle.
But now, after witnessing everything that had just transpired, after seeing the heroic deeds that he’d done, after looking in his eyes and seeing how he genuinely wanted to take me somewhere…
I would never feel normal riding a bike. But maybe that was the whole damn point. Maybe getting on a motorcycle was supposed to be my way of going past normal, of trying something I’d never done before and embracing the chance to get outside the “perfectly prescribed path.”
“All right,” I said. “Just drive carefully.”
“I am,” he said. “Where I’m taking you isn’t a place to be reckless.”
I nodded. He led me to his bike, away from the other Black Reapers. None of them, not even Garrett, tried to heckle us or say a word. He opened the seat, pulled out a helmet, and handed it to me. I put it on, feeling like I was putting on a harness for skydiving. He put the seat back down and sat.
“Hop on,” he said.
“You’re not wearing one?”
He shook his head.
“Your sister never wanted to ride, so I figured it was a waste of money to get a second one,” he said. “And besides, I know how to ride. I’m not going to let us get hurt.”
“But—”
“Trust me.”
I suppose I’d never fully be the girl that could embrace risk. But that was OK.
I hopped on him and wrapped my arms around. I’d kissed Steele, I’d hugged him, but I’d never held him like this. This was different. And in the aftermath of the attack and violence, it felt just a bit more intimate, just a bit more romantic than before.
I could feel his torso clenching in place as the bike roared to life. Between my legs, the vibration of the bike increased, and I started to feel the early sensations of…well, I’ll just say it felt good. It seemed absurd to assume anything more would come of it, though the tingling feeling was definitely reminiscent of something.
He did a U-turn and slowly picked up speed. In any other circumstance, I probably would have felt terrified, but being as close to the violence as I just had been, this just felt like getting on my second roller coaster. Still intense, but not nearly as scary as the first one had been.
I could feel the wind brush against my face, the setting sun’s glare in my eye, and the occasional dust kick up and brush against my legs. I could feel Steele’s body tighten as he leaned to adjust for the road, whether by taking a right turn or simply centering in the bike. I could see why it was something many of the guys had described as “calming”—the very nature of riding a motorcycle made it impossible for the mind to drift anywhere else.
I had already begun to understand Steele, the person, but now I was starting to understand Steele and the Black Reapers, the bikers. These were tough men, no doubt. They would smell like oil, and even now, I would never quite move past that.
But damnit, there was a reason they constantly smelled like gasoline and oil, and it wasn’t so they could stand out. It was because that scent was a side effect of the joy they took from the road. These men were tough and mean, but they were tough and mean for the sake of doing what they felt they needed to do, not for grit’s own sake.
The bike ride actually didn’t last that long, or at least not as long as I had thought. Steele pulled the bike into a funeral home, letting the bike come to a crawl in a parking lot. It took me a couple of seconds of coming down from being on the bike, but I recognized the location. Tara and I had come here for the funeral of Steele’s mother just a couple of days before.
“Follow me,” Steele said as he took the helmet from me and stuffed it into the seat.
I did as commanded. When I’d come before, I didn’t think Steele had wanted me there, but Tara had insisted. We compromised by staying near the back, but now that I was going to visit the grave up close, I felt I’d better understand why Steele would want me here.
He wants me to understand. He wants me to see a side of himself he never showed my sister. He wants me to know.
We came to three gravestones lined up with each other. Steele’s parents and his brother, Stan.
“You know, seeing all three lined up like this…” Steele said. “The one good thing I can say for them is they all know peace now.”
I was about to say something but thought better of it.
“Our lives have always been tumultuous and heavy,” he continued. “Father was a war vet. Brother always talked about following in his footsteps. Mom suffered badly from their deaths. I did too, but I ‘took it out’ by hanging out with the boys and getting into trouble. But now, their burdens are over. They’ve done their part.”
He sighed. I tried to see how his eyes were. They were resolute, maybe a tad watery, but I suspected I was seeing things that weren’t really there.
“But I’m still here,” he said. “And I’ve realized now that the harder I try to do everything just right for them, the worse I do. I have to let go. So that’s why I brought you here. So you could see my past and know what you’d be getting into if you keep coming for me like this.”
