And a man-shaped ache I don’t quite know how to handle.
“I mean,” I start carefully, “I have no real reason to rush back.And FYI, you’re the one who got all flustered by your long-lost love.”
Kristie shoots me a glare.“Yeah, and you’re the one who yelled at me to get on the bike and let’s go.”
“At least now you’re admitting he’s your long-lost love,” I tease, grinning.
“I—what—that’s not—” she stammers, cheeks going pink.
“Look, cuz.”I lean on the fence beside her.“I’m not judging.I just want what’s best for you.You’re smart, you’ll make the right choice.And I’m asking the same—no judging.No matter what I decide.”
Her features soften.She reaches over, threading her fingers through mine.
“Never.”
And just like that, I’m ten again, sitting in her parents’ backyard eating popsicles and swearing we’d always be on the same team.
Cousins, best friends, ride or die.
Some things don’t change, no matter how many years—or miles—pass.
We stand there quietly, side by side, looking out over the ranch.The air hums with crickets.A hawk circles lazily overhead.And in my chest, a tiny, dangerous thought takes root.
Maybe I could belong here.
“Is it silly that I’m worried?”she whispers.
“Not at all,” I say softly.“Obviously, something’s up.I’m worried too.”
About Sawyer.About Kristie.About a future I might want too much.
Then I hear it—the low, steady growl of engines.
My head snaps up.
Kristie hears it too.
We both move off the fence, scanning the horizon.The rumble grows louder, deeper, until the vibration runs up through the soles of my boots.
This is it.
I grab Kristie’s hand and squeeze hard as the line of bikes comes into view, chrome flashing in the late-afternoon sun.
The big rig follows close behind, its massive frame dusted with road grit.
When the convoy turns up the drive toward the garage, I finally let out the breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.
I follow her gaze to Rooster, and I see Kristie’s shoulders sag with relief.
They’re back.
Safe.
I pull her in for a quick hug, heart pounding against hers.
“I’m going over there.Go get your biker,” I murmur into her ear, smiling when she blushes.
Then I step back, square my shoulders, and start walking toward the truck.
