I keep my hands on the grips a second longer than I need to.
Then I turn my head slightly.
“Ruby.”
She flinches.
I hate that.
“Hey,” I say, quieter. “We’re here.”
Her breath shudders. “Where is here?”
“A place you can breathe.” I pause. “Get off slow. Your legs are going to feel wrong.”
My gaze drops before I can stop it.
Bare thighs.
That dress riding too high.
Skin exposed to cold. To eyes that had no right to it.
I look away fast, jaw tight.
Her fingers loosen one by one.
She slides off the bike like she’s made of glass. The second her feet hit the ground, she wobbles.
I’m off before she can fall.
My hands catch her shoulders.
Light.
Careful.
Her eyes lift to mine.
Hazel.
Wide. Wet. Freckles scattered across pale skin like paint someone never meant to spill. Her red hair is a mess, strands stuck to her mouth.
She looks like she ran through hell and somehow came out still soft.
She swallows. “Are you going to…?”
The question hangs there.
I keep my voice level.
“No.”
Her shoulders sag a little, but her eyes stay guarded.
Smart.
I pull a key from my pocket and press it into her palm.
