A humorless smile tugs at my mouth. “That might be asking a lot.”
She snorts despite herself. “You always get to me.” The familiarity of it hits us both at the same time. Her eyes soften. Just a little. “Truce,” she says. “I don’t know what to say to you. And you don’t know what to say to me. This is unexpected for us both. I’m not here for you. I’m not some crazy stalker. I’m here for my cousin and I’ll be gone before you know it. So no need for heavy conversations.”
“For now,” I agree.
I leave not long after, heart pounding in a way that has nothing to do with danger or adrenaline.
She’s here. And I’m not running. For the first time since I left her sleeping in that bed without a name to hold onto, I wonder if this wasn’t an accident at all, but the start of something that’s been circling back toward me the whole damn time. I wanted to give her my name, my number, but didn’t. Why? I don’t know. But now here she is and I’m supposed to let it be. She’s going to be gone before I know it, that’s what she wants me to believe.
She’s under my skin so how will she be gone when distance doesn’t matter to damn desire.
I tell myself not to go back over there. That it’s not my place. Raff’s got enough on his plate with a newborn, a recovering wife, and a kid figuring out how to be a big brother. Me hovering doesn’t help anyone. And maybe that’s true.
But it doesn’t stop the pull. It sits under my skin all day, restless and insistent, like an itch I can’t reach. Every time I hear a bike on the road, every time my phone lights up, every time my thoughts drift even a fraction too far from whatever I’m supposed to be doing, they slide right back to Danae.
To the way she moved through Raff’s house like she’d been there forever. To the way her presence shifted the air without demanding anything from it. To the way my chest felt quieter just knowing she was down the street.
That’s the part that gets me.
Quiet isn’t something I’m used to.
Normally, when I’m restless, there’s only one cure. I ride. I disappear into the road until the noise in my head burns off and all that’s left is motion and wind and miles. I’ve built my whole life around that pattern—need, escape, return. It’s predictable. Safe.
Except the need to escape isn’t there.
It should be. I haven’t left town in weeks, and that alone should have me climbing the walls. Instead, I wake up and my first thought isn’t where I could go. It’s how long will she be here and can I see her again.
Salemburg has never felt like enough before. It’s a place I come back to, not a place I stay for. A waypoint between rides. A dot on the map I circle until the road calls louder than everything else.
Now the road is quiet. And it scares the hell out of me.
I’m at Honey’s Hot Rods when Raff finally calls me on it. We’re elbow-deep in an engine, grease smeared across our hands, music low in the background. It should feel normal.
It doesn’t.
“You gonna explain,” Raff says casually, not looking up, “why you’ve turned into a damn regular guy?”
I snort. “What?”
“You heard me.” He straightens, wiping his hands on a rag, eyes sharp and knowing. “You’ve been circling Salemburg like you’re afraid to leave it. Fuckin’ Smoke offered you an out and you didn’t take it.”
I shrug, keeping my focus on the engine. “Got stuff to do.”
Raff huffs a laugh. “Bullshit.”
I glance at him, irritated. “You always this nosy, or is fatherhood already turning you into one of those guys?”
He grins. “Nah. I just know you.”
That lands heavier than I expect. “You’ve been talking for weeks about getting back on the road,” he continues. “Long ride. No timeline. Same speech you always give when you’re getting itchy.” His gaze doesn’t leave my face now. “Then suddenly, nothing. You’re here. Every day. You’re over at my place more than you ever before. My kids are cute, they ain’t that cute, brother.”
I stiffen. “I’m helping.”
“With groceries?” he asks dryly. “With holding the baby for five minutes and then hovering like you’re waiting for something?”
I open my mouth, then close it again.
Raff’s eyes narrow just a touch. “What changed?”
