She pauses. “Can I be honest?” Her eyes search my face.
“I want you to be.”
“I think he did it to keep me busy,” she says. “I was lonely.” Her gaze drifts to the window. “I can’t have kids on my own.”
A tear slips free. She wipes it away almost immediately, like it never existed.
“My clock ran out before I even knew it was ticking.”
I swallow. “If it helps,” I say, “I was lonely in juvie too. I had no friends, and I was in a bad place.”
She tilts her head, scanning me, lips pressing together. “That’s hard to believe.”
I let out a laugh. “I sense sarcasm.”
“Maybe a little.” She chuckles, pinching her fingers together in the air, eyes squinting as if measuring just how much.
I smile.
“It’s different with Judas,” I say. My fingers move toward my necklace, twisting it around, “Somehow, I feel like he’s my second chance.” I breathe out slowly. “At giving people a chance.”
She hums thoughtfully and returns to the piano. She plays a few gentle notes before stopping and looks at me once more.
“I know you two are getting close,” she says gently. “And I want you to be happy.”
“Why do I see a but coming?” I let out a nervous laugh.
“Because there is one. He’s complicated, sweetie. Judas obsesses over new things. When the shine wears off, he leaves.” She pauses. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Yeah. I know.” The words leave my mouth easily, but they feel paper-thin; I don’t quite believe in them.
“Good.” She presses her palm against my thigh. “So.” She tilts her head. “Enough about boys. Tell me what you like. What do you want to do?”
I smile again. “I don’t know.” My brows pull together. “I like riding with Judas.”
“Really?” She lifts her glass and takes a sip of wine. “Would you want your own bike?”
“Yes.” My eyes widen. “One day. I need to get my license first.”
She raises a brow. “Would that keep your mind off things?” Her gaze moves to the hair tie around my wrist.
I glance down at it. “Maybe.” My breath slips out.
She cups my chin, tilting my face up until I meet her eyes. “You are more capable than that pretty little head lets you believe,” she says. “If you want to ride, then ride.”
She lets go and reaches into her pocket, pulling out her phone. “Before I met William, I had a friend who was crazy about bikes. He owns a bar now, but he’s also an instructor. He can give you lessons.”
She doesn’t ask if I’m sure. She doesn’t wait for hesitation. She just presses a number and lets it ring once.
“Lucas,” she says when a man answers. “I need a favor.”
She stands, pacing slowly. “My daughter needs riding lessons. Can you fit her in?”
There’s a pause. One. Two seconds.
She smiles and turns toward me. “Would tomorrow morning be okay for you?”
I nod.
