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We back out of the garage and once the door is closing again, Dalton begins heading down the driveway to the main road. Instead of turning the usual way that passes by the clubhouse, he turns the other way. I haven’t been over to this side of the compound at all. Each house is a little different, a representation of the member that lives there but somehow they all still manage to be cohesive.

It all looks planned.

Like they intentionally built this home for themselves on this piece of land.

It’s incredibly cozy.

I choke back a laugh at the thought. A club of bikers who live on a compound that feels cozy but there is no other way to describe it. Each house is tucked into the forest, private but not secluded. We pass by a lake with a small stream forking off. Several members and their families are hanging out on the beach, the kids splashing around in the water, laughing and screaming. The stream winds its way through the trees back the way we came and I imagine it has to pass behind Dalton’s house at some point. We continue on through the trees, the branches providing just enough shade so my leather jacket doesn’t feel suffocating and a part of me wants to throw my arms out and drop my head back to enjoy the feeling of the wind against my skin.

I’m happy.

Happier than I’ve been in so fucking long.

Happier than I’ve maybe ever been.

And it’s because of him.

Dalton came crashing into my world and made everything feel so damn easy. He gave me a place to start finding pieces of myself again and he seems to enjoy discovering each new piece of Lennon along with me. And in return, I can’t help but feel like he’s showing me pieces of him that he doesn’t let other people see. Pieces he maybe didn’t even know were there until he started discovering them right alongside me.

What he and I have feels… special.

I don’t know what it means or where it’s going yet.

But I do know, it means something.

We finally reach the gate to the main road and we stop, idling as the gate slowly slides open. As soon as it opens enough for Dalton to get the bike through, we’re shooting past the guard shack and I tighten my grip on Dalton. He flies down the road, away from the clubhouse and a wave of excitement races through me.

Oh, this is what we’re doing today?

He reaches down, giving my hand a squeeze, before he pulls the throttle back again, sending us sailing down the road in front of us. I expected it to feel reckless, dangerous but instead, it feels like I’m flying. Like we’ve become one with the asphalt. Nothing exists in this moment, in this world, but the two of us. My heart is fluttering wildly in my chest and I let out a giggle at the feeling.

This is it.

This is what Morgan was talking about when she told me to live again.

I found my way to it without even realizing that’s what I was doing but this is what I was searching for.

The thrill of this bike right now.

The comfort of how easy things feel with Dalton.

A chill morning of shopping for home goods that felt so perfectly normal.

Tears sting my eyes and a smile stretches across my face. I wasn’t sure I was ever going to find this girl again but I realize now, she was always there. She was buried under years of shit but she’s been clawing her way to the surface since the moment I walked away from everything weighing me down.

As we get into town, Dalton makes several random turns and when we stop at a light, the sound of music pierces through the rumble of the engine.

“Baby,” Dalton calls and I look up at him. He nods his head toward a little park up ahead where there are tents, food trucks and a stage set up. It looks like a little street fair and I smile, leaning up to his ear.

“Let’s go check it out.”

He nods. The light turns green and he starts moving, cutting across two lanes of traffic to park along the curb across the street. As soon as he kills the engine, I climb off the bike and remove the helmet and suffocating leather jacket. I groan, handing it over to him.

“Look at this,” I say, wiping away some sweat from my arm and wiping it on his t-shirt. “Disgusting.”

He laughs, shaking his head. “Delicious.”

“Someone needs to check your head, Rooster,” I tell him, rolling my eyes. “The fact that I had to peel that thing off me is nasty.”