Samuel
The ignition kicks, and the bike roars to life with a heavy rumble, the vibration climbing through the seat and into my thighs. It's steady and familiar, like a second heartbeat.
I let the engine idle, my hand resting on the throttle while I stare through the windshield instead of at the driveway.
Helmet on. Gloves tight.
The cabin behind me feels different now. I tell myself not to get my heart set on this, but it's too late. Part of me already has.
Gravel snaps beneath the tires as I ease out of the drive, the rough crunch giving way to the smooth pull of asphalt.
The throttle rolls open beneath my hand.
Wind presses against my chest as the engine settles into its familiar rhythm.
Riding usually clears my head. Today, it only gives my thoughts somewhere to run.
Late summer hangs heavy in the air, heat rising off the pavement in shimmering waves.
The road winds through the mountains, familiar turns I could take blind.
Sunlight flickers through the trees in broken flashes across my visor.
I lean into each curve on instinct, body and machine moving together the way they have for years.
Today, every mile feels intentional. Like I'm riding toward something instead of away from it.
The whole drive, my mind keeps circling back to her. The way she leaned against the counter this morning and how her hand drifted to her stomach.
The thought takes root again, deeper this time.
A kid.
Our kid.
I picture Raven’s blue eyes as she confirms what I already suspect. I imagine that as her body changes, she’ll move slower. I’ll have to start being more careful about everything.
Then I picture a tiny hand wrapped around my finger.
This is big.
Bigger than anything we’ve ever done. And we’ve done big before.
I stood in front of the table with every man in the club watching me, waiting to see if I’d fold when I told them she wasn’t temporary. That if it came down to the patch or her, I already knew my choice.
You don’t say something like that unless you’re ready to lose everything.
I was.
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t look away.
And they kept me.
But I would’ve walked because Raven mattered more.
The road straightens and the trees thin as the town nears. I ease off the throttle as I pull up in front of the pharmacy. Killing the engine is easy. Walking through those doors is another story.
What if I'm wrong?
We haven’t exactly been careful, but Raven’s cycle has never been regular, either. She’s been more tired than usual. Different in ways I can’t quite explain.
The doubt fades as quickly as it came. Everything fits. I shouldn’t be this sure. But I am.
I know her. I know the rhythm of her body. And my gut doesn’t misfire where she’s concerned.
That’s enough.
I kill the engine and walk inside.