Like maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.
In the early hours of the morning, I fall asleep on Sage’s sofa with wine on my breath and tears drying on my cheeks, but I am smiling.
Because I’m thinking about him.
AboutNitro.
About the way he said‘fuck him’with such conviction.
About the way he looked at me like I mattered.
About the way he made me laugh when I thought I’d never laugh again.
I don’t know if fate will ever let our paths cross again.
But I sure hope it does.
Chapter Three
NITRO
Three Days Later
It’s been three goddamn days since I dropped Marley off at her friend’s place, and I can’t stop thinking about her. That fiery red hair. Those quirky glasses. The vulnerability in her eyes when she talked about her piece-of-shit ex.
I’m standing in the clubhouse garage, supposedly checking the oil on my Harley, but really, I’m just turning this situation over in my head. I’ve driven hundreds of people in my Uber, thousands, maybe. I told myself it was about the company, about staying connected to the world, but the truth is I was running from my name, my past, the weight of everything I carry.
Strangers were easy. Temporary. Forgettable.
She wasn’t.
Maybe it’s the generous tip and that note. Maybe it’s the fact that she was so broken down and still found it in herself to thank me. Or maybe it’s just that she seemed like someone who needed looking out for.
My phone sits heavy in my pocket. I could pull up her ride information. With just a few taps, I’d have her contact details, but that feels wrong, invasive, like I’d be no better than the asshole who made her cry.
“You good, brother?” Ghost’s voice cuts through my thoughts, appearing out of nowhere. I jerk my head up to see him leaning against the doorframe, toothpick in his mouth, that perpetual calm radiating off him as if he’s never had an anxious thought in his life.
“Yeah,” I say, wiping my hands on a rag. “Just thinking.”
Ghost pushes off the doorframe and walks closer, studying me. The man doesn’t miss shit. “Thinking about what?”
I consider brushing him off, but what’s the point? “A passenger. From a few nights ago.”
His eyebrow quirks up. “Must have been some passenger.”
“She was having the worst night of her life,” I explain. “Got dumped. Body-shamed. Kicked out of her own home by her asshole ex. And despite all that, she tipped me like I’d saved her life and left a note thanking me for making her believe in decent humans again.”
Ghost nods slowly. “And you want to make sure she’s okay.”
“Yeah.” I meet his eyes. “I know how it sounds. I know it’s borderline stalker shit, but I can’t stop thinking about whether she’s safe, whether that ex is making her life miserable. She was so…vulnerable. And I have this gut feeling that I should check in, make sure nothing worse has happened.”
“You want me to run a background check.”
Not a question. The man’s too damn perceptive.
“I do,” I admit. “Just basic info. Make sure she’s not in danger. That’s all.”
Ghost studies me for a long moment, then pulls the toothpick from his mouth. “Gimmie her name.”
