“Where to?”
“Arkansas. Then we see. Gonna hit the road within the hour. Stop overnight in Tennessee make the rest of the ride tomorrow.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I’m in.”
Of course he is. We’ve ridden out together more times than I can count. Drank side by side. Done things neither of us would admit out loud. Once upon a time, if Smoke went looking for trouble, I was already walking next to him.
“Give me an hour,” I tell him.
“I’m ready when you are, brother.” He tells me what I already know. His bike stays filled with his go bag. The man only unpacks to do laundry.
Honey doesn’t come back out before we leave. Smoke glances toward the second building once, jaw tight, then throws his leg over his bike. We don’t say anything about it. Nothing to say. He’s going to either make peace with losing her or he’s going to figure shit out to fix it.
Engines roar to life. The road opens up in front of us like it’s been waiting.
We cross into Tennessee under a sky streaked purple and orange. Wind tears at my cut, cool against the sweat dried into my shirt. The hum of the engine beneath me smooths out everything in my head.
This is what I’ve always known.
Motion.
Distance.
The steady rhythm of tires eating miles.
We pull into a roadside motel just past the state line. Nothing fancy. Neon sign flickering. Ice machine humming. Smells like stale cigarettes and cheap cleaner.
We grab one room.
Two beds.
Just a place to shit, shower, and sleep.
Smoke drops his duffel on the nearest mattress and immediately pulls his phone out. I sit on the edge of mine and do the same. Danae answers on the second ring.
“Miles?”
Hearing her voice does something to my chest I can’t explain.
“Hey, darlin’.”
“You on the road?”
“Yeah. Tennessee tonight.”
I hear the soft shift of her moving, maybe stepping out onto her porch like she does when she wants quiet.
“You sound happy.”
I look at the cracked ceiling and smile.
“Maybe I am.”
We talk about small things at first. Her shift. Her grandpa eating better this week. The way the evenings feel longer now that summer’s leaning in.
But under it all, there’s something steadier. Something building.
“I miss you,” she says finally, voice softer.
