He spins around to face me, blue eyes wide. “What? No way! What did you get?”
My lips kick up slightly at how excited he is. “A ZX-6R.”
Coop holds his hand up for a high five. He raises his hand a little too high, so I have to jump to reach it, much to his amusement. “Hell fucking yeah! Welcome to the Kawasaki club! Did you guys just get it today?”
“Nope. I went to the dealership by myself last night.” I shrug as I try to keep the pride out of my voice. I know it’s not a big deal, and lots of people do stuff like that on their own, but it feels like an accomplishment. Especially when I’ve never really been able to buy anything myself.
“That’s really great, Lark. Wren would be so proud of you,” he murmurs as he pulls me into a hug, his voice a little choked up.
If there’s anyone who understands the hole left in my heart by Wren’s absence, it’s Coop. Wren and Coop were high school sweethearts. They were the type of couple that were so genuinelyand wildly in love with each other that everyone could see it. I expected them to get married, have a ton of babies, and live the happily ever after I always hoped I would get one day.
They were on their way to that fairy tale I dreamed up for them when Coop proposed on a sweltering summer day when they were both twenty-six. Charlie and I helped him set it up in their favorite park, and I had never seen my sister look so happy as when she said yes.
Wedding planning was all she could talk about, and we both had looked forward to it so much.
But Wren abruptly broke it off a year later, shocking everyone other than our parents. She immediately started dating her future husband, Marcus, got engaged, and was married less than a year later.
There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t hate myself for not realizing just how wrong things were when Wren did a complete one-eighty. I’m sure Coop feels the same way, but there’s nothing either of us can do about it now. All we can do is put one foot in front of the other as we figure out how to exist in our new reality.
“I hope so,” I whisper.
He clears his throat before changing subject. “So, uh, what’d you name her?”
I’m thankful for him steering us back to lighter topics. “Kiwi. The bike’s green like a kiwi, and a kiwi is a goofy-ass bird, like me.”
Charlie and Coop laugh at my description of myself, although the mirth doesn’t quite reach Coop’s eyes. Neither of them tries to disagree with me because we all know it’s true.
Once Charlie stops giggling at my bike name, she asks, “Have you eaten dinner yet?”
“Nope.” I’m not exactly the best at remembering to eat, at least not these past few months. My appetite has been shit sinceeverything happened, and it’s starting to show in collarbones and ribs jutting out more than usual. Working so much hasn’t helped anything because I usually work straight through lunch and dinner, only grabbing a quick snack before I pass out for the night.
Charlie’s doing her best to take care of me, even when I feel like I don’t deserve it. I love her for it, and I hope that girl knows I’d do anything for her.
“We have a plate for you in the warming drawer. Coop can keep you company while I change. I’ll probably be ready to go by the time you finish.” She flashes me a grin before running up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
With how long it takes Charlie to get ready, we’ll be lucky to make it out of the house by golden hour.
Shaking my head at her, I follow Coop to their kitchen. I sit at the marble island that could seat an entire football team while Coop grabs the plate from one of their multiple warming drawers. I put my helmet on the empty green suede barstool next to me.
Like everything else in the gigantic house, their kitchen is colossal. White cabinets seem to never end, dotted with gold hardware that matches the faucet and light fixtures. They have just about every built-in appliance anyone could need, like double ovens, an espresso maker, and a cabinet-covered, gigantic fridge and freezer.
Their kitchen and the entire house pale in comparison to what we had back home, but it’s still pretty excessive for just two people. I’m not going to complain about it, though, especially when Coop sets fettuccine Alfredo, grilled chicken, breadsticks, and a salad their chef made in front of me.
We talk as I inhale the food, my appetite perking up for one of my favorite dishes. I’m sure that’s why Charlie had her chef make it, but I’m not going to ask her. We have an unspokenagreement that she tries to keep me healthy and alive, and I let her without pointing it out.
I’m just dipping the last breadstick in the creamy white sauce when Charlie strides into the room. She changed into a black jacket, dark Kevlar jeans, chunky motorcycle boots, and her camera backpack.
I groan internally when I realize why she wants to be out by the river by golden hour. Charlie wants to do a photoshoot with me and my new bike. I hate having pictures taken of me, but Charlie loves photography. The least I can do for my best friend is pose for a couple of pictures.
“You ready to go?” Charlie walks past the white marble island to the garage door and snags her bike keys.
“Yep. Do you wanna come with us, Coop?” I could use someone else as a buffer. Charlie can spend hours and hours taking pictures. Coop will help keep her in check so we’re home before three in the morning.
While Coop and I were friendly before, we’ve gotten close in the last six months. I’ve started to see who Coop is, instead of him just being Charlie’s big brother or Wren’s boyfriend. He’s become one of my best friends, and I enjoy just hanging out, watching him work on the bikes and chatting, or exploring the city together.
He gives me an apologetic shake of his head. “I would, but I’ve gotta get to the garage. You two have fun, and we’ll have to do a group ride this weekend.”
Coop works at a repair shop in town, specializing as a motorcycle mechanic. Like Charlie, he doesn’t have to work, but he does to keep himself busy.
