An image of Callan flashes in my mind, all kindnessand mischief. He’s the one who keeps me going, the light in the dark. I’ve moved on. I hold onto that as I draw in a breath.
“I hear you,” I say. “But I’m a different person now, too. I’ve found a peace I didn’t think I’d get.” I pause, meeting his eyes. For a split second, I almost let the old affection slip in. “I’m in a good place now. In a relationship with someone who…treats me the way I deserve.”
The words are strange, almost like a relief. Saying it out loud makes it real.
“I’ve worked hard to get where I am,” I continue. “And I just want to keep moving forward.”
He doesn’t say anything right away. His eyes flicker with regret, or maybe understanding. Whatever it is, it’s clear that he’s hearing me. It’s enough. The space between us feels a little less heavy and a little more like closure.
I’m ready to let it all go.
Dillon nods slowly, the movement stiff like it’s taking everything in him. “I understand. And I’m…glad you’ve found someone who treats you right.” His voice wavers, and he swallows hard. “You deserve that, Bree. You always did.”
I’m finally catching a glimpse of the man I used to know. The one I trusted before everything fell apart. I’m grateful that I’m seeing it now.
I offer him a small, genuine smile, feeling lighter than I have in a long time. “Thank you. I really hope you find peace, too, Dillon. I do.” It’s true. I want that for him.
He nods again, a sad smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. “I’m working on it. One day at a time, you know?”
Before I can say anything else, my phone rings. I’m almost relieved for the distraction, but then I see the name on the screen, and an uneasy sensation coils in my stomach. Lucy. We text constantly, but she’s never actually called me before. That’s…weird.
“Um, sorry,” I say, already reaching for my phone. “Do you mind if I grab this? I don’t want to be rude, but…” I trail off, not sure how to explain the flutter of nerves in my stomach, the way my pulse picks up.
He shakes his head. “Not at all.”
I stare at Lucy’s name flashing on my screen. Lucy’s a texter. She sends me strings of emojis, funny memes about coffee, and pictures of customers’ dogs that visit her café. She never calls.
I slide my finger across the screen, a thousand possibilities racing through my mind. The way my heart is pounding, you’d think I was answering a call from the president, not my friend.
“Hello?”
The silence on the other end is louder than words.
And that’s when I know… Something’s wrong.
thirty-two
CALLAN
The hum of the distillery fades into the background as I step outside, shrugging on my leather jacket. The air is cool and thick with the scent of damp earth, but at least the sky’s clear for once, after what felt like a week of Mother Nature’s personal water torture.
The engine roars to life, a deep, satisfying growl that settles my restless bones. It’s not just a machine—it’s the closest thing I’ve got to therapy. That sound, that vibration under me, has a way of drowning out all the noise.
I ease out of the lot slowly, but the moment I hit the edge of town, the open road stretches out ahead of me, and it’s like the world gives me an invitation I can’t say no to. The tires bite into the wet asphalt, and I can’t help myself. I twist the throttle and the bike surges forward.
The hills rise in the distance, cloaked in mist. The river to my left is a whole mood, raging and foaming from the rain, determined to make a statement. I get it. I’ve been there.
Every bend in the road dares me to push faster, lean harder.It’s raw energy, untamed, like it doesn’t give a damn about anything except right here, right now.
The wind cuts through me, but in the best way. It’s the kind of cold that slaps you awake, clears out the fog, and makes every nerve fire on all cylinders. This is exactly what I needed.
I lose track of time until the first mist of rain starts to fall.Really? I tilt my head back just in time to catch a raindrop square on my visor. So much for clear skies.
The road ahead winds tighter, snaking through trees. The river’s roar grows louder, matching the thrum of the engine beneath me. The rain picks up, slicking the asphalt, but I don’t slow down. I twist the throttle more, lean harder into the curve, and feel that rush that sharpens everything, dials it all into razor focus. The bike’s not just below me, it’swithme. Out here, we’re invincible.
At least, that’s what I think…until I see a flash of tawny fur darting out of the brush.
“Fuck!”
