He shook his head with a sigh. As if he’d ever be afforded that luxury.
He walked downstairs, grabbed some fruit from the kitchen, and put it in his bag before heading to the front door. It was early enough that birds were still chirping away as he stepped outside. He closed his eyes, taking in every beautiful note of their melody. It was beautiful. As much as he liked the silence, he knew he’d miss things like this. At least eventually.
He walked across the front porch and headed down the stairs, his gaze sweeping across the parking lot. The motorcycles were all mostly parked in a straight line, though a few were thrown in haphazardly. The latter was likely the twins’. Those two were the epitome of chaos.
He walked toward the garage that had Miles’s car parked in front of it, his steps faltering when he saw the hulking mass of a man leaning against said car. Wilder arched a brow at him, the knowing look in those gorgeous eyes making his heart stutter.
“Didn’t think you’d be going anywhere alone, did you?”
He ignored the question, putting his bag on the ground between his feet.
“How long have you been waiting out here? Don’t you sleep?”
“Not when you seem determined to make my job harder.”
“It was just an accident,” he mumbled, unable to meet Wilder’s gaze.
“It wasn’t. Not that it would matter if it was.”
Wilder pushed away from the car and reached to his left, which was when Emmett noticed the motorcycle parked next to the car. Wilder grabbed a helmet hanging on the handlebars and stepped toward Emmett.
He glanced at the helmet, then at the bike, his pulse jumping when he realized what Wilder intended.
“No,” he said, stumbling back a step, nearly falling over his bag.
Wilder frowned, lowering his hand.
“Why?”
“I…” He eyed the bike for a moment, then glanced at Wilder, heat rising to his cheeks. It wasn’t the bike that was the problem. He swallowed hard. “Do I have to?”
“I’d prefer it,” Wilder said, head tilting to the side as his eyes tracked across Emmett’s face, probably taking in the blush that was only deepening.
His heart skipped a beat, that intense look in Wilder’s eyes tearing apart something inside him. Ripping open a hole he feared he couldn’t mend. Feared he’d never want to mend.
“Fine,” he mumbled, reaching down to lift his bag and put his arms through the straps, hiking it onto his back with a grunt before accepting the helmet from Wilder.
He pointedly ignored Wilder’s grin and waited for him to straddle his bike before he put on his helmet and slid on behind him. He wrapped his arms around Wilder’s big form, eyes squeezing shut as the bike pulled forward.
The second they hit the road, he held on for dear life, well aware that Wilder was going slow for him. He wasn’t afraid of Wilder crashing. He was afraid Wilder would feel the rapid beat of his heart from being pressed against his back.
He tried to concentrate on just breathing the whole ride, a sigh of relief escaping him when the red brick building came into view. Wilder slowed down to take the turn into the parking lot and continued to the smaller empty lot at the back.
The bike stilled, and a heartbeat later, Emmett’s feet were firmly on the ground, fingers fumbling with the strap under his chin. He jerked the helmet off and shoved it toward Wilder, who took it with a raised brow.
Wilder hung a helmet on each handlebar, then pulled off his gloves. Emmett’s breath caught in his throat. His knuckles were covered in wounds. Red and angry-looking ones. Had it really been that bad yesterday, and he hadn’t noticed?
“I’m sorry,” he said before he could swallow the words.
Green-flecked eyes met his gaze, brows furrowed in confusion.
“For what?”
He motioned at Wilder’s hands, watching the man’s expression change to something almost playful as he stretched his fingers.
“Not a lot of that is from catching you,” Wilder said.
He was the one who was confused now, his head tilting to the side as he arched a brow at Wilder.
