Chapter Five #4
I stayed quiet as her eyes glistened with emotion, her voice grew somber, and her mind remembered.
“On the way home, he complained of a headache. But it had been a hot day. Mom told him to take a nap while she made dinner.” Her breathing grew shallow.
“When it was time to eat, she sent me to go get him.”
Tears dampened her lashes and slipped onto her cheek.
“I thought he was asleep on his bed, only his eyes were open, and he wasn’t breathing.
I tried to wake him.” Her voice broke. “He was still warm.” She curled her hands into fists.
“I don’t remember calling for my mom, but she said she’d never forget how I screamed her name.
“I remember every word she screamed at my dad. He doesn’t have a heartbeat. He isn’t breathing. He isn’t fucking breathing.” She bowed her head. “I couldn’t move. I was petrified with fear.”
I stared at the photo of the happy kid. “How old were you?”
She lifted her head, and her glassy eyes connected with mine. “We were twelve. Cayson is my twin brother.”
Her words landed with finality. Her lips trembled, and her head barely tilted as she breathed out a weighted exhale.
I felt her pain and heartache, but I couldn’t relate to losing someone…
anyone. Romeo had been the closest I’d ever come to having a family.
I wanted to wrap my arms around her, to hold her, and tell her how sorry I was.
But we were in the early days of whatever this was becoming.
Still, I reached up and wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.
Her lips hinted at a soft smile. “He’d had an aneurysm.” She glanced down at the picture again. “Cay had the best day of his life. He’d won a trophy. My dad had been so proud. But when he died, our family broke.
“I think my mom felt guilty because she didn’t recognize the signs. Not that there were any. I just think parents that lose a child find ways to make it their fault.”
“Tragedy like this isn’t anyone’s fault.”
“The heart and the mind don’t always agree.
” She put the picture back on the shelf.
“I guess we all found ways to survive. Mom having Cece brought my parents back together. They’re good now.
My dad would’ve given up racing, but I started wearing my brother’s number.
I started riding his bike, and I raced motocross until I was sixteen.
Then I got a taste of the track. Speed over dirt any day.
My dad calls it track therapy. You can’t focus on feeling miserable when you’re focused on racing. ”
She sat on the couch and curled her legs under her. I checked my phone for the time. Lately, Treena had been lax with the rules, but I didn’t want to give her a reason to fuck with my life. “I need to take off soon. The halfway house has a curfew.”
“So you have a perverted probation officer, court-ordered NA meetings, and a curfew.”
“It’s a pain. But I can’t say I’m not guilty of finding trouble. Or at least, trouble seems to find me.”
“Oh god, that’s the Heller motto. I’m not sure I’m ready for another Heller in my life.”
I couldn’t stop the grin on my face. All teeth and happiness.
“A curfew sucks,” she said. “How long do you have to live at the halfway house?”
“I’m kind of fucked. I can’t leave unless I have somewhere to go.
My options are limited. I’m making deliveries on my bike, so my income is sketchy, but I’m looking for something better.
” I wasn’t going to tick boyfriend boxes if I didn’t have a legit job, didn’t have money to take her out, and even if I did, I wouldn’t have a place to have her over.
Insecurities and regrets jumbled in my gut.
We’d just established we’d be friends, but I had to bounce, and I wanted to see her again.
How was I supposed to play it cool when I wanted to ask her out?
Not that I could take her anywhere. Not that I wanted to shoot my shot, only to have it fuck me over because I’d claimed I could be friends with a girl.
Just not this girl.
“I should probably take off.” I pulled my bike key from my pocket and grabbed my phone off the coffee table. “Thanks again for today. Freaking epic. Probably the most fun I’ve ever had on my bike.”
Because lately, I’d spent more time doing food deliveries than riding for pleasure.
When I stood, she did, too. “I guess maybe I’ll see you at Levi’s again. Or at a meeting with Kiss,” she said. “After checking in with your pervy probation officer.”
“Don’t remind me.” I stuffed my phone into the front pocket of my hoodie.
An awkward silence settled between us. She tucked a loose tendril of her hair behind her ear.
Where were my balls? She seemed to wait for me to say something. Fuck it. She could always say no. “Do you maybe want to get together for a ride or something?”
“Tomorrow?” Her reply was instant and laced with something that hit my bloodstream like the first corner on the track today. I was unsure, a bit nervous, but feeling like fire.
“Do you want to meet somewhere? Or I can ride out here?” I’d have to get up early and hope some Sunday morning assholes had a craving for hashbrowns and egg sandwiches so that I’d have enough to fill our tanks and maybe grab a bite to eat at some point during the ride.
“Tomorrow afternoon. Then we can come back here. My mom always makes a big dinner on Sundays.”
I smiled. She smiled. A light blush tinted her cheeks, and my face could have cracked from grinning. Our faces were close together. I could imagine her breath on my lips and her touch on my skin. A tingle built in my balls. Just friends, I reminded myself.
When she looked at me like this. Eyes I could drown in, lips I wanted to taste, hair that caught the moonlight through the large windows.
I didn’t care that Cruz had her up against the wall, with his hands where I wanted my hands, and his mouth crushing hers.
I could almost taste her tongue. Her throat stretched on a swallow.
I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to give her a reason to forget Cruz.
“Do you want me to text you in the morning?” she asked.
“Yeah, but you know, you can text me whenever you want. Any time you want to go for a ride. If you’re bored. If you’re hungry and you want a delivery.”
“I’ll remember that.” She led the way down the stairs and swung open the double garage door as I climbed onto my bike. She approached as I slapped my helmet over my head and lifted the face shield. Then she stepped with me as I backed the bike out of the garage.
For a moment, my bike idled, and I stared at her, at her mouth, her full lips, the flutter of her pulse in her neck. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to remember the scent of her perfume, and the heat of her body close to mine. I wanted things I couldn’t have. “I have to go.”
I slid my phone into the holder attached to my handlebars, tapped a few buttons, and pulled up a playlist. With a wave, I rolled the throttle and rode down to the access road.
As soon as I hit the old highway, with Post Malone in my ears, I revved the engine and felt the pull of speed from my chest to my balls. I popped a wheelie, and my phone lit with an incoming text. Once my front tire came down, I tapped the screen.
McKelle: I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. I thought you were going to kiss me.
Maybe my words had come out harsh. I pulled over to the shoulder of the road, out of traffic, tugged my glove off with my teeth, and tapped out a reply.
Ryatt: I wasn’t uncomfortable.
I smiled and followed the text with another one.
Ryatt: I wanted to kiss you.
Fuck.
Ryatt: When you’re ready.
Ryatt: No pressure.
Now, I felt like an idiot fumbling through my rapid-fire messages making an ass of myself when I said I could keep this in the friendzone.
Ryatt: Ignore all that.
McKelle: You don’t want to kiss me?
Ryatt: Do you want me to kiss you?
Here I was on the side of the road, cars whizzing past, leaning over the gas tank, resting on one elbow, with my face shield up, having a text conversation with the girl I couldn’t get out of my head. Fuck curfew.
McKelle: I shouldn’t want you to kiss me.
McKelle: Ask me the next time you see me.
The next time was now. Flipping around, I headed back to her house.
McKelle
Wild, reckless butterflies tumbled and collided in my belly. I’d wanted to lean into him while we were on the couch. I wanted to cuddle and cry on his shoulder when I talked about my brother.
Then I wanted him to stay when he said he had to leave. When he was on his bike, I wanted to climb on behind him. I wanted to go wherever he was going.
And when he stared at my mouth, I wanted his lips on mine. I’d never wanted anyone but Cruz.
As soon as his name was in my head, a wave of guilt washed over me. One kiss with Ryatt would have me drowning both in guilt and over my head in lust.
Once Ryatt’s taillight blinked into the distance, I’d gone into the loft to put away the quilt, turn off lights, and head into the house.
Instead, I curled into the couch, picked up my phone, and did something stupid.
No surprise. When it came to guys, especially Cruz, I’d made some stupid decisions.
Now, I’d morphed awkward into uncomfortable with Ryatt.
I’d been fantasizing about him when he was probably remembering Cruz kissing me at the track. I’d claimed I wanted to be friends, that I wasn’t ready to move on. All that was true. But I still wanted him to kiss me.
I’d been practically drooling on him, wanting him to make a move. If I was being honest with myself, I’d been attracted to him the first time I met him at one of Kiss’s meetings months ago.
But I had Cruz.
A low frequency buzz vibrated through me. I wasn’t over Cruz. God, I loved him. But there was something between me and Ryatt. I just needed to take a breath and figure out my feelings because they were all jumbled together.
A bike rumbled outside the garage. I jumped from the couch, bounded down the stairs, and threw open the garage door just as Ryatt stored his helmet on his handlebars.
He crossed the fifteen feet between us.
My heart raced, and my knees weakened. I stared into his eyes, the heat and intensity slipping beneath my skin.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” His words left his lips sounding dark and dirty.
More than my next breath, but I was scared. Scared of what it would mean for us. Scared of what it would mean for me. My heart had only beat for Cruz for so long.
But seeing Ryatt ride off, knowing I felt more than friendship struck like a betrayal of my heart.
He closed the space between us. Then he reached up and touched my cheek, trailing his fingertips along my jaw.
He leaned closer. Warm, sweet breath caressed my lips.
I rested a hand on his hip to ground myself to the moment.
I breathed him in. The subtle scent of his cologne, the essence of him, the anticipation sending a riot of flurries through me making my heart flutter.
“Can I kiss you?” he repeated, even quieter, a secret request promising something intangible weaving between us.
I nodded, and his lips touched mine. Soft, but with intent. With one hand, he slid his fingers through my hair and cupped my skull. The other hand cradled my jaw. With gentle pressure, he canted my head. Those lips slid against mine.
As my eyes closed, I forgot to breathe. He gently sucked my lip between his. But this wasn’t open-mouthed. He wasn’t filthy and depraved. He kissed me like he had forever to memorize the taste of me.
Ryatt was gentle, and warm, and he kissed me so fucking good.
A low growl rumbled from his chest, his mouth opened mine, and our tongues connected, both initiating, both slowly sinking into the moment. I could feel the kiss from the tingle in my nipples to the warm pulse between my thighs.
Out here, the moon was the only witness to the magic of his mouth taking mine.
My body softened against the hard contours of his chest. I felt the ridge of his cock low against my belly.
But he wasn’t thrusting or grinding. My mouth was enough.
He tasted past my teeth, a final deep possession of his mouth over mine before he broke the kiss with sips of my lips.
Once. Twice. His thumb brushed my cheek, and my eyes opened.
“Can I kiss you again tomorrow?” he whispered and rested his forehead against mine.
I smiled. “You can definitely kiss me tomorrow.”
He hurried back to his bike and slammed his helmet onto his head.
“Are you going to be late for curfew?”
“Don’t care,” he said and smiled. “See you tomorrow.”