“Wasn’t expecting that.”
Her eyes narrowed behind the visor.“Rude.”
“Honest.”
She climbed on behind me and settled in easier than she had the first time.No hovering hands now.No awkward hesitation.Her arms slid around my waist like they belonged there.
I started my bike, the rumble moving through both of us, and felt her hands tighten slightly.
Anchor pulled out first, because of course he did.Prime followed, then I took up the rear with McKayla behind me.
The island road curved through the trees, past the haunted house sitting quiet in daylight, past the ticket booths and food stands that looked almost harmless when they weren’t lit up and crawling with tourists.A few guys working security lifted their chins as we passed.
I kept my eyes moving out of habit.
We crossed the bridge to the mainland, and the lake opened up on both sides, bright under the afternoon sun.The wind pushed against us, and McKayla’s body tucked closer to mine automatically.
Not because she was scared, but because she trusted the ride now.
The road stretched ahead in a smooth ribbon beyond the bridge.Anchor kept an easy pace, not too fast, not too slow, and for once there wasn’t a damn thing to do but ride.
No footage.
No bodies.
No screaming tourists.
No radios crackling with bad news.
Just engines, road, wind, and the woman behind me holding on.
We passed the edge of town and headed out toward farmland where the road widened and the trees gave way to open fields.Corn stood high on one side, green and thick beneath the sun, while pasture rolled out on the other side with a fence line cutting across it.
McKayla tapped my shoulder suddenly.
I glanced in the mirror.
She lifted one hand and pointed hard to the right.
I followed the direction and saw a small group of calves near the fence, all wobbly legs and big ears, one of them kicking sideways like it had just discovered its own body.
I laughed before I could stop it.
Baby cows.
The woman had spotted baby cows like we’d just passed a national landmark.
She tapped again, more insistently this time, like I might not understand the importance of the cow situation.
I reached back with one hand and patted her thigh.
Her fingers squeezed against my stomach, and even with the helmet on, I could feel her happiness.It was ridiculous.Completely ridiculous.And somehow it made the whole damn ride better.
I let my hand rest there against her leg longer than I needed to.Longer than I should have.
The denim was warm from the sun, and her thigh fit beneath my palm like the rest of her had fit against me from the second she climbed on my bike.I should’ve moved my hand back to the handlebars.I didn’t.She didn’t move away either.
The road curved gently, and I guided the bike through it one-handed, her body following mine easily.Behind us, the island and all its ghosts got smaller.Ahead of us, the countryside opened wider, and for one stretch of road, McKayla wasn’t a missing sister’s desperate investigator, and I wasn’t a brother trying to keep a body count from climbing.
