My jaw flexes. Idiot. Perfect fucking idiot. I love him so much it hurts. Dominic’s already rolling into his spot, with the precision of a surgeon. The back tire lined up with the pavement crack. His black bike is a shadow except for the red accents that light up at night.
As if trying to match the Tron bikes without the flare. Diego pulls into the space next to him, easing off the bike while Dom gets his vape out. Holli sweeps in on the Ducati like he’s pulling up to a red-carpet event instead of a greasy spoon diner.
For half a second, watching them, my chest loosens. This right here. This is home more than anything. Well, almost anything else. I thought I had found home again until she insisted I take her back to her real home.
“MAS, PARK NEXT TO THE HAPPY MEAL TOYS!” Em cackles, pointing wildly even though I’m already aiming for the empty slot beside Holli.
I kill the engine. Silence drops heavy. Just the tick-tick of cooling metal. A bus idles on the main road. Em’s practically vibrating. Like, at a million when I need him to be at a hundred, maybe two hundred tops. He doesn’t seem as affected as I am. That bothers me.
I swing off the bike, boots hitting asphalt. Yank my helmet off, drag a hand through my hair, and turn toward the sidecar. Em’s helmet is ridiculous up close. Flame red mohawk, bright yellow shell, black visor with a stupid smirk decal across it. I bought it. I have no one to blame but myself.
“STAND BACK, PEASANTS,” he shouts, struggling with the buckle and nearly punching himself in the face. “YOUR KING EMERGES.”
His hands fumble. Cast catches on the strap. He curses. The bravado slips for half a second. Just long enough for me to see the flash of frustration he tries to drown in noise.
I step in. Flick the buckle loose while he takes off the helmet. His hair’s a mess, and he’s blinking at the sudden brightness. Taking care of him takes my mind off her, temporarily.
“You good?” I mutter, checking his grip on the edge of the sidecar.
He grins too big, too wide, when he should be feeling sad like me.
“Never better, baby. Hey, how do you say, ‘sexy clown’ in Russian?”
“You don’t, idiot.” I wedge his crutches into place. Insulting him is a dig. Unnecessary, but why isn’t he upset like I am? Am I the only one who wants Sofia? Who’s bothered by this whole space thing? “That phrase doesn’t exist.”
“It should. For me. For my legacy.”
He tries to stand. Immediately almost eats shit. I catch him by the elbow before he does something to make his ass land back in the ICU.
“Hurry up, fuckers. I’ve got places to be.”
Dominic’s voice cuts across the lot, mean as always. I’d have thought his woman would have made him nicer. Not a chance. He’s the same miserable guy as ever. Even the vape he’s tucking in his pocket isn’t working. He’s the first off his bike and stomping inside, throwing open the diner’s door and disappearing. Holli follows, less angry.
Diego’s the only one who waits on us. By the time I get Em out, crutches underneath him, and catch up with Diego, he’s smiling.
“Glad you didn’t fall out back there. Thought for a minute you might. Would’ve pissed me off to have to go to the hospital today.”
“Not gonna happen,” Em says, voice too bright. “I’m back to torment all you bitches.”
“We doing this or what?” I ask, sounding bitchy like Dom. Neither cares.
Diego holds the door open, Em shuffles through, then he and I bring up the rear. The guys are sitting in our usual back corner booth. The vinyl is cracked in the corner where Em once tried to do a table dance. Dom stormed out that night. Holli chased him. Diego and I paid the damages.
Feels like ten lifetimes ago.
“MOVE, I WANT THE WALL SIDE,” Em complains, hobbling toward the booth like we’re racing.
“You’re not getting the wall.” I steer him toward the end. “You’re getting outside.”
“Discrimination against the injured,” he huffs, trying to glare and failing because he’s grinning too hard and no one cares. “I should sue.”
“Please do,” Dom mutters, not looking up from the menu that he’s memorized by now. “Then I can countersue for emotional distress and slap a restraining order on your ass.”
He takes the inner corner, which is weird since he usually sits on the end to escape whenever he wants. Holli’s all elbows and legs next to Dom. Diego sits next to him, leaving the middle open for me to slide in next to Holli. Em lowers himself onto the end. He spreads his legs obnoxiously, cast sticking out, ready to trip the waitress who appears out of nowhere with melted ice water and a fat attitude.
The waitress appears like she teleports. Same one. Rude as hell. Always with a cigarette hanging from her mouth.
“What do you boys want?”
