This dude was out of his fucking mind if he thought I was gonna let him get on a bike after everything he’d just experienced. “Not a chance. I’ve got a ramp in the back of my truck. We’ll roll it in.”
He stopped walking and turned back to me. “You ride?”
“Dirtbikes, but yeah.” I walked with him to where his bike was parked down the road. “I was out at Pismo last weekend and left most of my gear in the back.”
The first real smile I’d seen from him came through even in the dark. It was small, but I’d take it. “That’s cool.”
We loaded up his bike, and I secured it to the bed of my truck before taking off for my house.
Joshua was quiet for the first few minutes as we both processed everything that had happened. I was sure he wasn’t asleep, buthe stayed still, watching the road pass by with his hands in his lap. At the first bend, he leaned forward and put one hand on the dash to brace himself.
“Feeling sick?” Before he could answer, I pulled over so he could slide out of the truck and heave. There wasn’t much coming out, but his body was efficient at keeping him alive. Whether he liked it or not.
"Sorry." He reached for the water bottle and swished it around in his mouth before spitting it out again. “I thought I was over that shit.”
"Don't worry about it." I handed him a small pack of tissues from my center console so he could wipe his mouth. “Your body just wants you to be healthy.”
He scoffed but didn’t say anything else.
My place was about four miles up the coast, set back from the road on a piece of land my dad had left me. I moved into it full-time a few years back and had been slowly renovating it as time and money permitted. It wasn't fancy, but it was warm and had a guest room that nobody used. I had a feeling Joshua wouldn’t need more than that for the night.
I pulled into the gravel drive and cut the engine. We both just sat there for a second before he cocked his head and looked at me. “How did you know my name?”
“Jeanette mentioned it. Said you emptied out your wallet for her tip.” I smiled to lighten the moment. “Hope she doesn’t expect me to do that next time I’m in there.”
His face remained neutral as he turned back to the house.
"I'm Matthew, by the way." I couldn’t remember if I’d said that or not, but if I did, he probably didn’t remember it while he was in the process of dying.
“And you know Jeanette?" He put his hand on the door handle, so I took that as a signal he was ready to get out.
I opened my door and slid out, still talking to keep things light. “Yeah, as much as anyone knows the waitress at their favorite diner. She’s good people.”
Joshua slid out of my truck and wobbled a bit, still unsteady after his ordeal and likely going into shock now that the adrenaline was wearing off.
“The gravel is loose and can be uneven.” I offered him my hand as he stepped away from the truck.
After a brief pause, he took it and let me lead him to the front porch. “What about my bike?”
I didn’t usually lock my door, so I just opened it and flipped on the living room light. “We can leave it in the truck overnight and pull it out tomorrow. It’ll be fine out there.”
He opened his mouth as if to argue but then probably remembered he’d recently left it on the side of the road for someone to hit or steal. The back of my truck in my private driveway was a hell of a lot safer than that. “Yeah, okay.”
3
JOSHUA
The outside of the house looked like it'd been sitting in those trees since before either of us was born, and I kinda expected the inside to match with shag carpet and popcorn ceilings that you often found in houses that hadn't been updated in fifty years.
But when Matthew pushed open the front door and flipped on the lights, I was surprised by what I saw. I just stood in the entryway for a minute because the inside looked like it belonged to a completely different building. Wide plank floors that were obviously new and the cushiest sofa I’d ever seen. It looked like a bunch of bean bag chairs had been sewn together, and I just wanted to lie on it. From where I was standing, I could see the kitchen had new cabinets and appliances that seemed fitting for a chef or someone who really liked to cook. And then a little robot vacuum came to greet me from under the couch. It bumped gently against my boot and then redirected itself like I wasn't even an inconvenience.
My eyes followed it as it made its way across the floor before disappearing down the hallway. “Cool.”
"That's Gerald." Matthew was completely stoic, so I wasn’t sure if he was joking about the name or not.
When I finally allowed myself to get a good look at Matthew for the first time with actual light in the room, I quickly remembered how gorgeous he was. So gorgeous I had to work to keep my face neutral and my jaw from hanging open. I'd clocked his good looks at the diner and then in the truck when I could sneak glances at him. But in the light of his living room, with his jacket off and his arms relaxed at his sides, he was like a big lumberjack cologne model or something. Big through the shoulders and chest in a way that likely came from actual labor and not trendy gym sessions. And the thick dusting of stubble along his jaw made me want to pull on it…with my teeth. He was probably a good ten years older than me, maybe pushing forty if I had to guess, but he was obviously the kind of man who just got better with age.
Was I gawking? I was gawking. I needed to stop looking at his face.
