Like I have a choice. My babysitter, as Mas calls him, doesn’t let me skip. Even if I wipe the gaming floor with his face. Diego steps back, Holli steps forward. Hugs me even tighter. I expect this from him. He’s a sloppy dude. Always teary-eyed and shit. He kisses the side of my head.
“You scared all of us. Glad you’re okay, Em.”
Diego sniffles. He’ll deny it, but I heard that shit. Holli finally pulls back.
“Seriously,” he whispers, forehead bumping into mine, “Don’t do that shit again.”
I grin, because what else am I supposed to do?
“Bro, can’t promise that. You’ve met me.”
Mas groans. Muttering something about giving him a heart attack. Holli shakes his head and hugs me again. The kind of full-body squeeze as if I died. He lets go, steps back, just enough to look at my cast. The sidecar and then me. Long enough to mean something.
He gestures at the red-and-yellow clown-mobile behind me.
“So uh, what’s the deal with this? Where did you guys get this thing?”
Mas steps forward. “A buddy of mine. The one that we got the bikes from. This is his.”
For a sec, the four of us stare at it. Dom is already back on his bike. Vaping and smashing buttons on his cell. Probably talking to his lady, whom Mas pointed out on television one night. She’s hot as fuck. I get why he’s banging her. Who wouldn’t? But why is she banging his grumpy ass?
No idea.
“Are we riding or are you guys just going to stand around with your dicks in your hand jacking to the McDonald’s bike?”
Dom’s bike is already rumbling. Glaring at us over his phone in his hand. So over this. I lift my chin and cup my hands around my mouth again.
“HEY DOMMY DARKO, YOU WANT FRIES WITH THAT ATTITUDE?”
He doesn’t even look at me, just flips me off again. I try to shake my ass and almost bust it on the ground. Diego loses it, laughing and walking away. Holli wipes tears from his eyes, shaking his head.
“You’re insane, Em.”
“Certified,” I tell him proudly. Mas steadies me with this annoyed tenderness he’ll deny until he dies.
“Get in before Dom leaves your clown ass behind,” he mutters and grabs me by the back of my shirt before I can climb in the sidecar wrong and break my other leg.
“Be sure to buckle his dumb ass in,” Holli calls over his shoulder, heading to his bike. “One head injury is enough for him.”
Ah, the shit they give me. It’s so damn perfect, I almost get tears in my eyes. Almost. Mas will always be my twin, but these guys are my brothers. Love them, even that dark Batman Dom. I know he loves me back, he’s just terrible at showing it.
Mas hands me the helmet to put on while he buckles me in tighter than a flight attendant on a plane. He loves me. Engines rumble around us. The Aprilia starts vibrating into my ribs. Annoying pain, but whatever. This feels more normal than anything since the accident.
My brother swings onto the bike. Grips the bars and mutters something about babysitting my “unstable, unbalanced, unhinged ass.” Adorable. Really warms my heart.
Dom takes off, done with my bullshit. His bike cuts through traffic like he’s allergic to sharing space with humans. Hollister’s behind him, blonde hair curling out the bottom of his helmet. The golden boy. Diego’s last, shifting with his bad back, but still looking like a phantom villain in his all-black clothing. Wouldn’t be Diego if he weren’t wearing black.
Mas revs once, checks that I haven’t died yet, then tips us into motion.
The sidecar jerks violently, steadies, jerks again, like it’s throwing a tantrum. I pat the exterior.
“Relax, boo,” I tell it. “Daddy’s got you.”
Mas’s helmet snaps toward me.
Telepathic judgment.
We merge into the street, and the wind hits my face so hard I make a noise, sounding like a dying goose. My cast sticks out french fry style. People stare. I wave. Without comms in my helmet, I’m out here raw-dogging the highway with my thoughts.
