The night of Lucifer’s Dream, I didn’t get a proper chance to look at the Raptor. Now, I run my fingers along the ceiling, mirrors and centre console. The truck’s exactly as I remember, save for the upholstery and glove compartment that looks slightly ajar. I barely brush its handle and it falls open. His black chrome skull mask grins at me. My fingers run along the harsh scars marring the smooth chrome. They’re rough and deep.
‘Why did you keep this?’
Ryker’s fingers trail over mine as they trace over the black chrome.
‘Because you made it,’ he whispers.
My insides pull tight. This mask should make me sad, it should make me cry. It should be nothing but a reminder of the worst night of my life. For some reason, though, it isn’t.
‘This mask is like you, you know?’
Ryker looks puzzled and as he brings a hand behind his head, his biceps flex with the movement. ‘Why’s that?’
I study the mask again. Sometimes the things that we hide behind are the things we become.
‘You have scars like this,’ I whisper.
He swipes a few stray curls from my face. Even with dust in my hair or paint on my cheeks, he looks at me like he regards me as a prized jewel.
‘We’re all that mask,’ he says. ‘Our scars are our stories. Sometimes they come from a mistake that led to a mess, sometimes they come from other people, but they’re still our stories.’
I shake my head gently. ‘You’re starting to give Mr F a run for his money with such deep and meaningful explanations.’
Shutting the mask back into the glove compartment, I continue examining the truck’s interior. I flip my sun visor down, startled when a polaroid falls into my lap. I pick up the photograph and flip it around; my jaw drops. It’s the one from the art room all those years ago.
‘God, you don’t throw anything away, do you?’
‘You’re my girl,’ Ryker says easily. ‘You’ve always been my girl.’
His hand wraps around mine and brings it to his lips. He kisses each one of my fingers, making my breath stick in my throat.
I open the door and climb out. ‘I have to take the Mustang and get home. I left Chuckie there today.’
‘I was going to ask where my best bud is.’ Ryker steps out too and leans against a pristine E-type Jag in the next bay, resting one ankle in front of the other. ‘Why didn’t you bring him in? He’s always here.’
‘He gets restless in the shop if I have a full day of resprays.’ I nudge Ryker off the chassis. ‘Don’t ruin the bodywork.’
The side of his mouth pulls up in a sassy smirk, but he pushes off the vehicle. Reaching around my waist, he hauls my body into his and the breath all but leaves my lungs.
‘I’d never ruin your bodywork, baby. I cherish you.’
‘Stop distracting me.’ I wiggle free from his hold. ‘Chuckie, remember?’
‘Lucky he’s my bestie, or I’d be jealous.’
My mouth drops open. ‘He is not your best friend. He’s mine.’
‘Semantics.’ He waves airily, giving me his full-wattage smile. He’s such a piece of work. He knows what that smile does to me.
‘Stay at mine tonight?’ I ask.
‘Wherever you go, I go, baby.’ He links his fingers with mine and we head toward the Mustang.
‘Don’t be leaving that truck here,’ Mr Fernando calls out as we pass his office. ‘Take it offsite till it’s ready to be worked on. I have full bays in the morning and can’t allocate the space.’
‘Mr F.’ Ryker salutes. ‘As you wish.’
‘You given up on that smoking yet?’ Mr Fernando flashes a look from where he’s seated, shuffling a few papers around his desk.
