Eight
“No, no,no, no, no! Do you have any idea what the wind does to vocal chords?” Sebastian gripped the porch railing, as though Henri might try to drag him into the yard by force.
“It’s got a face shield.” He held up the present he’d driven into town for.
Seb scowled at the helmet Henri handed over. “But what about underneath? Air will get in.”
An easy enough problem to solve, thanks to Henri’s sister, who had no idea what to get him one Christmas. “I have some Turtle Fur.”
“Turtle fur? Turtles don’t have fur.” Sebastian lowered one brow while raising the other. How the hell did he do that?
Henri marched over to the Harley’s saddle bag and pulled out the Christmas present he’d gotten from his sister two years ago and had never worn. Fuzzy and purple, the object looked like the love child of a knit hat and the “turtle” part of a turtleneck sweater, worn outlaw fashion to cover the neck and mouth. “Here.” He ripped the tags off and brought the soft material back to Seb.
Seb eyed the garment with suspicion. “And this keeps the wind out?”
“Yes.”
His anger softened, a touch of anxiety taking its place. “I’ve never ridden a motorcycle before.”
“You’re in for a treat. But you have to trust me. If you feel me lean, lean with me. If you fight, you’ll throw the balance off.” His sister had nearly toppled the bike a time or two. “Have you ever ridden a horse?”
“Yes.”
“Same principle. Be one with the animal.”
Sebastian held his ground.
“Come on! Loosen up a little. Have some fun.” Had the man ever done a spontaneous thing in his life?
“Oh, all right. If it’ll make you happy.” Seb pulled on the Turtle Fur and managed the helmet with Henri’s help.
Henri tied his hair back and slipped his own helmet on. He’d heard enough complaints from previous passengers about his unruly locks whipping them in the face.
“Now, it’s kinda like dancing, but this time you have to follow my lead.” Several wonderfully windy roads awaited, but for Seb’s first outing, Henri would take a fairly straight path.
Seb climbed on the back of the bike and wrapped his arms around Henri, clinging more tightly than was comfortable.
“Ease up there, big guy. You won’t fall.”
Seb relaxed his hold.
Henri fired up the Harley Road King and coasted down the driveway and onto asphalt, getting a feel for his passenger. Seb’s thighs were warm against his butt, and having the man’s arms around him added a bonus to the ride. Now to teach him a thing or two about trust—and freedom.
They’d gone nearly ten miles when Henri recognized the vibrations coming through his back: Sebastian’s laughter.
* * *
“Why doyou take those?” Sebastian watched Henri swallow a pill.
“Because I have anxiety and depression. These help me get by.”
“You’re masking the problem. Why not tackle your issues head-on?”
Said the man who lived on a mountaintop far from civilization. “It’s not that easy.”
“What causes you anxiety? What causes you to be depressed?”
Let him count the ways. Henri settled for, “Many things. Worrying about what other people think, mostly.” Not to mention crazed psychotics with rope and duct tape. Though, so far he’d not noticed any strange cars driving by. With any luck loony-boy had hightailed it back to New Jersey.
