The Backpack Bride (Give a Bookish Girl a Biker #1)

Chapter Twenty-Five

Roxy

M y cheeks heat at the memory of Christian slipping out of the bathroom this morning with his hair still wet and a T-shirt plastered to his damp chiseled body. How is any self-respecting woman supposed to guard herself against his masculine perfection? Especially one that’s benefitting from all his goodwill?

I stuff that thought to the back of my mind and repeat, “This is a mutually beneficial temporary arrangement. He’s helping me; I’m helping him. And only for a limited time,” over and over until I pull into Axel’s school to pick him up from detention. Since I had to be here and Chris still had more work to do at the office for the Bon Loup project, we drove separate today.

As soon as Axel sees me, he trudges toward the car, opens the door, and tosses his backpack in the back. “Today sucked,” he says before dropping into the passenger seat.

“I’m sorry, Ax.” My heart twinges as he slinks low into the seat and yanks his hood up over his messy curls. I hate when he gets ticked off like this because it’s nearly impossible to reach past his defensiveness. “Is there anything—”

“No,” he interrupts me. “You can’t fix all my problems, Roxy. And you sure as heck can’t fix me.”

I interpose heck in my brain because I can’t fathom my sweet little baby nephew using a curse word.

“Language,” I remind him with an exasperated sigh.

“I just don’t get it,” he says, flinging his hands in the air. “I’m trying so hard to do better, to stay on top of my homework, to act like I give a crap in class, only for these teachers to constantly ride my butt anyway. They couldn’t care less if I get thrown in juvie.” He goes on to explain that one of the kids in his class lied to a teacher and said he was disrupting study hall when the teacher stepped out for a minute. The teacher never even questioned the other kid’s word, just sent Axel to the office.

“I’ll have a talk with the principal if you think that’ll help.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he says, dejected. “I already told her it wasn’t me. I think she wanted to believe me but—” He doesn’t say anymore, likely knowing she doesn’t have a reason to believe him.

“Axel.” I soften my voice as much as I’m able while pulling into traffic. “A bad reputation is hard to rebuild. Sometimes it takes time to prove to people that you’ve changed.”

He’s quiet for a few seconds. “I don’t have time, though, do I? If I give anyone another reason to doubt that I’m in a good place, they’ll award Marcus custody. Then I’ll have to live with a guy I barely know.”

“You don’t know that,” I say, panic slicing through me despite my words. “We’ve got Christian now. A good, steady influence. A plan to make ourselves look capable and strong. And you are changing. I see improvement every single day.”

He swings his head my way and glares at me from under his dark eyelashes. “You only see it because you want to see it. No one else expects to find anything good come from me.”

“Axel, that’s not true. Christian sees the good in you, too. He tells me all the time how much potential you have.”

He doesn’t reply or say anything the rest of the drive home, and neither do I. I’m feeling more run-down than usual and at a loss for words to reassure him that we’ve got this. Especially when I don’t know for sure we do have this. But I hold out hope, and that’ll have to be enough.

As I pull up to Chris’s building, I tell Axel our plans. “Don’t forget, tonight is Chantelle’s birthday party.”

“Right, about that,” he says, licking his lips. “Think I could stay at Case’s house? Since you guys are gonna be gone anyway?”

“When will you be back tomorrow?”

“As early as you say I need to be.” He gives me a puppy-eyed look, and I don’t have the heart to say no. After his crappy day at school. he could probably use some time with a friend.

“All right, you can go. But be home by noon tomorrow.” I put the car in park, and Axel bends to kiss me on the cheek.

“Thanks, Roxy. You’re the best.”

My chest warms at his praise just as my phone pings with a text.

Christian: Hey, can you guys meet me in the garage? I’ve got something to show you.

“Hey,” I call to Axel as he slides out of the car. “Chris wants us to meet him in the garage.”

Axel’s brows lower. “Okay?”

I hand the keys to the valet, and we make our way to where Christan keeps his vehicles and motorcycles parked. A short elevator ride and one key card swipe later and we’re standing before a version of Chris I’ve never before witnessed. It’s a little like the one who took me to the bookstore last week, but more somehow. He’s vibrating with energy.

“Thank you, guys, for coming down here,” he says, clapping his hands together. “I’m going to need you both to close your eyes.”

I share a look with Axel. “Are we about to get whacked in a dimly lit garage?”

Chris booms a laugh, and even Axel cracks a smile at my joke. “You read too many books.”

“Oh, come on, trust me,” Chris chides, moving toward us. “Close your eyes. I’ve got a surprise.” He lightly skims his thumb across my wrist, and it’s then I realize there’s very little he’d need to do to get me to obey his every command.

I close my eyes and clasp my hands behind my back. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Same,” Axel says from beside me.

“K, give me sec.” It sounds like Chris is running away from us. The sound of rubber squeaking across the cement floor breaks the silence. Then his voice sounds in front of us again. “All right. Open your eyes.”

A beautiful new matte black motorcycle comes into view. It’s a cruiser but not super flashy, and a little smaller than the one he took me on after our wedding.

“Wow.” Axel steps toward it and runs his hand over the seat. “It’s perfect. It’s exactly like the one I showed you online the other day.”

A trickle of dread slides down my spine.

“It is the exact one you showed me online.” Chris’s voice holds zero hint that he’s teasing or being facetious.

“What?” Axel scoffs a laugh and stares at Chris, dumbfounded. “You just...bought my dream bike right out from under me? Just like that?” He shakes his head like he’s irritated, but it’s clear he’s messing with him.

“It’s not for me.” Christian slides his hands casually into his front pockets and steps around the bike toward Axel. “It’s yours.” As if I’m caught in some alternate universe where anything is possible, Chris fishes a key out of his pocket and dangles it in front of my nephew’s stunned face.

“You’re not for real,” Axel says a bit breathlessly, lowering his hood.

Chris chuckles. “I am, actually. Hold out your hand.”

Axel does as he asks, and Chris drops the keys into his palm.

“No way! There’s no way!” Axel drops to his knees in front of the bike and runs his hand over the exhaust, the side, the handlebars. “Man, I don’t know what to say.”

“Don’t say anything. I just wanted you to have it.” Christian meets my eyes with a smile, but I can’t quite bring myself to return it. Dark emotions war inside me, fighting to break this precious moment into a million tiny glass-like shards.

As if sensing my unease, he claps Axel on the shoulder. “Why don’t you get familiar with it for a minute while I talk to your aunt?” Axel nods, but he’s only half-listening, absorbed as he is with his shiny new toy. “Just don’t try riding it yet, all right? You need a license for that. But rev her up and get a feel for her.”

Axel’s already tossing his leg over the bike as Chris cups my elbow and ushers me a few car spaces away. I grit my teeth, thinking over what I want to say—how I should say it. There’s no way for me hide my annoyance at this point, but I also don’t want Axel to overhear. His joy is too fragile to squash right now.

Chris stops in front of me and lowers his voice. “What’s the matter?”

I purse my lips and raise my chin. “You didn’t ask me if this was okay.”

His expression shutters a bit. “I didn’t know I needed to ask you before I bought him a gift.”

“Really, Chris?” I scoff. “This is more than a gift . It feels more like a very expensive, very flashy way to get him to like you.”

Chris runs his tongue over his teeth and looks away. “Is that really what you think I’m trying to do here?”

I toss up my hands, forcing my voice to remain no more than a harsh whisper. “What else am I supposed to think? That you just felt like giving a kid, who has no business owning a motorcycle because he doesn’t even have his driver’s license, a faster, more reckless way to get himself in trouble?”

“Roxy, come on.” Christian’s hands rest low on his hips. “Give him some credit.”

“It’s you I’m not giving credit to,” I say, hardening my tone. “You’re bribing him with stuff . You’ll win him over, get him to like and trust you, and then what? What will happen to your relationship with him when we separate?”

Christian blinks and rears back, almost like I slapped him. It feels a little like I did.

“You promised to stay true to our contract,” I remind him. His gaze lowers to the concrete floor between us. “Now I have to be the bad guy and take away his brand-new toy because you wanted to look like Daddy Warbucks.”

“Hey.” Chris slices his hand through the air, anger radiating in every one of his taut muscles. “You can think what you want about me, about my motives, but don’t punish him for my mistake.” Amazingly, his voice never raises, never wavers. He’s the epitome of cool, calm defiance, much to my annoyance.

“So what?” I cross my arms under my chest. “Am I just supposed to let him keep this?” I lean forward, invading his personal space. “I can’t afford to pay you back and you know it.”

He cocks his head, meeting my glare. “Do you honestly think, after everything, that I want you to pay me back?” His ocean eyes morph into hard steel in the shadowed space. “I’ve done nothing but try and prove to you that I genuinely care about you—about him.” He points behind me to where Axel remains oblivious, revving his new bike. “And all you want to believe are the tired-out lies you continue to tell yourself. That no one is trustworthy. That you’re on your own. That it’s better to keep everyone at arm’s length than to let anyone see the truth.”

“Which is?” I seethe.

His eyes touch every part of my face, skim my lips as if he’d reached out and grazed them with his fingertips. “That you’re afraid. Afraid to get attached to anyone or anything.” His Adam’s apple bobs on a swallow. “That’s why you run, isn’t?”

My heart pulses with old, sharp pain, aching as if he’d dropped it on the cold, hard floor beneath us, then stomped on it. It hurts too much to respond. Hurts even more when he adds, “Because to you, it’s better to leave than be left.”

I fight back the tears that threaten to drown me. “I won’t let Axel get hurt.”

“Like you were?”

I shake my head and stalk off before he has a chance to say another word.