I press one last lingering kiss to her mouth, my lips brushing against hers as I whisper, “Do you trust me?”
Her gaze softens, and she smiles, but there’s that hint of curiosity in her eyes. “Always. But can I ask why we’re doing this so late at night?”
“You’ll see.”
The garage light flickers as we step inside, casting long shadows across the floor. Bree stops short. Her gaze locks onto the bike. I can see the storm behind her eyes, the war between past and present, the tightrope walk between fear and trust.
I take a slow step closer to her. “I know it’s hard, but we’ve got this. And I swear, I’ll be careful.” I reach for her hand, squeezing gently. “I’ve got precious cargo, after all.”
Her fingers twitch in mine. She doesn’t pull away, but she doesn’t move, either.
I wait.
Her lips part like she wants to speak, but it’s her eyes that do so as they search mine, asking the question she hasn’t voiced.Can I do this? Can I trust this again?
I lift her hand to my chest, right over my heartbeat. “You’re safe with me. Always.”
The tightness in her shoulders eases. Her breath comes slower. Then, finally, her eyes lift to mine.
“I love you,” she whispers.
“I love you more.”
Bree swallows hard, her eyes flickering back to the motorcycle. Her fingers tighten around mine.
“I thought I’d be ready,” she whispers, “but seeing it again…”
I brush my thumb across her cheek. “Look at me, not the bike.”
She does, those gorgeous eyes meeting mine.
“I’m right here,” I tell her. “Whole and healed. And I promise you, I’ll stay that way.”
She takes a deep breath, straightening her shoulders. I can see her working through it, that beautiful mind of hers battling with her heart.
“You’ll drive slow?” she asks, her voice stronger now.
“Grandma slow.”
A laugh breaks free from her lips. It’s the kind that makes you forget everything else, like the world’s suddenly right, just because she’s laughing.
“Okay, then. Let’s do this.”
I climb on first. There’s a moment where my muscles tense with the memory of impact, but I push through it. This bike isn’t my enemy. It never was.
“Come on, love,” I call over my shoulder, holding out my hand.
Bree hesitates for a heartbeat before her fingers slide against mine. Then she’s climbing on behind me, her body pressed against my back, arms wrapping around my waist.
With a deep breath, I fire up the engine and ease us onto the road, letting the wind whip past, her grip tightening around me in a way that makes me feel ten feet tall.
And then, I see a glimpse of her smile in the mirror. She doesn’t ask where we’re going because she doesn’t have to. The way she squeezes me tells me everything.
She’s figured it out.
It’s not long before I pull up to the lookout point, killing the engine and tapping the kickstand down before sliding off my helmet. I glance back at her. “Remember this place?”
She takes off her own helmet, her hair a wild messfrom the wind, and I can see that far-off look in her eyes as she stares out at the sprawling landscape below.
