Total pages in book: 45
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41664 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 167(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
“Do you ever wish it was different?” she asked, suddenly, like the question had been burning the back of her throat. “Us. Them. All of it.”
“Every fucking day,” I answered without hesitation. “Wish Mom didn’t flinch when a Harley went by. Wish Dad could see what I do and not just what I wear. Mostly, I wish you didn’t have to hide our relationship like it's contraband.”
Her inhale caught. “Me too.”
“I also wish you had new tires,” I added, because we weren't built to sit in open wounds for long.
She barked another laugh, the pain diffusing into something she could carry. “Text me the shop. And don’t pick the one where the guy calls you ‘brother’ and pretends he’s not being overly protective because he knows you’ll kick his ass if anyone even looks at me wrong.”
I grinned. “Noted.”
We waited in comfortable silence for another few minutes, then I glanced at my watch and silently cursed our parents.
“You should go before they call. Text me when you get home.”
She nodded but didn’t move, then she added, softly, “And about the girl…”
“When it’s safe.” Although I knew I’d probably tell her more about Lark sooner than I should because some parts of me were still seventeen and wanted my little sister to hear the good things first, just in case the world tried to take them away.
She pushed off the car and wrapped her arms around me a second time. I folded her in and breathed deeply.
“Take care of yourself,” she mumbled into my shirt.
“I always do.”
She pulled back, studying me, then rose on her toes and kissed my cheek. “You’re my favorite criminal.”
“I’m not a criminal.”
“You broke into a federal database,” she sing-songed again, just to make me roll my eyes.
“I was recruited,” I reminded her, because rituals kept a family glued together when nothing else did.
She slid behind the wheel, and the sedan coughed awake. The headlight covers were cloudy, and the passenger seat had a rip I’d offered to fix three times. She waved once, a small silhouette framed by bad glass, then eased the car around in a slow, careful circle that made my palms itch with the urge to take the keys and drive it myself.
When she hit the lane, I walked to the edge of the overlook and watched her taillights shrink. She turned at the sign the county never replaced and disappeared behind the pines, red fading to nothing.
For a long minute, I stood still and let the dark settle. My chest loosened and then tightened again, like a fist testing its grip.
Northern Tallahassee had been a cage and a launch pad at the same time. It gave me the itch and the tools to scratch it. It gave me a sister worth breaking rules for. It gave me parents who loved wrong—conditional, quiet, and always counting the cost. It gave me Kane on a porch, Drift in a race car with a broken ignition, and Edge laughing too loud at two in the morning when we got smashed on my twenty-first birthday. It gave me the first version of myself I could live with.
Crossbend gave me everything after that.
And now Crossbend had given me her.
Lark moved inside my head like a heat signature, a steady pulse I couldn’t shake. The feel of her mouth when I put my hands on her. The way her breath hitched but her hands didn’t shake. The heat under her skin when I pressed closer because I hated any distance between us. The electric calm that slid through me when I watched her sleep, counting the rise and fall of each breath, cataloging every freckle on her skin so I could hunt the ones I hadn’t tasted yet.
Swinging my leg over my hog, I gripped the handlebars and felt the leather slide under my palm. The Harley turned over like a beast, the familiar rumbling comforting and exciting. I booted the stand and rolled out slowly so the gravel didn’t kick and catch.
The road back to Crossbend always felt longer, leaving Alanna. I didn’t like leaving her behind. I hoped, someday, she’d be riding back this direction with me. But it would likely mean leaving our parents behind for good, and I would never ask that of her.
Needing a distraction, I flipped my visor up and let the air do its work on my face as I focused on the present. On the woman waiting for me at home. The one I shouldn’t have touched but couldn’t stay away from, even if I wanted to.
9
LARK
The drive east felt shorter with my arms wrapped around Jaxton’s solid frame, the roar of his Harley drowning out my thoughts. By the time we pulled through the gates at Torque Ridge, I was buzzing with nerves I couldn’t quite place.
He parked next to a row of motorcycles, knocked the kickstand down, and waited for me to climb off before he did. After he took care of our helmets, he brushed his fingers over mine before lacing them together. “Ready?”