25. Shane
Chapter 25
Shane
I wait for Kaycia to pack her backpack for our trip, even though in my heart I anticipate that it isn’t necessary. She’ll chuck it into Max’s truck for the ride back home once I tell her everything. I’m nauseous at the thought that this is the end. That she’s going to run screaming from me and my life. But I’ve always known I would have to tell her, and with her being in the crosshairs of what I suspect is the Ross pack’s vendetta, it's essential she knows everything.
“Wear jeans,” I call toward her bathroom where she’s rustling around with toothbrushes and cosmetics. “And boots.”
“Shane?” Kaycia steps from the bathroom to look at me. “Should I be scared?” My heart stumbles at the tremor in her tone, the fear I see in her eyes when I look up at her from the chair in her living space.
“Not of me,” I reply, even though that may not be totally true.
I would never hurt her. But being with me could.
It only takes her twenty minutes to have her bag packed and to change into jeans, a tee, and the same worn boots she wore the night we went to see Max play. Slinging her backpack over her shoulder she grips my hand in hers, pulling me close. “Hey,” she whispers, studying my face. “Are you okay?”
“I will be. Let’s just get on the road,” I answer, sighing and running a hand through my hair in frustration over the afternoon and everything that’s snowballing. “I should be asking you that. You’re the one stuck in the middle of this shit.”
“Shane, I’m fine. Hey, look at me.”
Before I can turn away, she palms my cheek, standing on her toes to brush a kiss against my mouth. Her touch breaks my resolve. I wrap my arms around her, holding her against me as I slant my mouth against hers and groan as our breath mingles. I feel like I’m clinging to her for all I’m worth, memorizing her scent, her taste, the way her curves feel under my hands.
Just in case this is the last time I get to do this.
“We need to go. Raquel, Jamila, and Max are all meeting us there.”
“All three? Why?” Kaycia steps back in surprise.
“It will all make sense when we get there. I promise. And if you don’t want to stay you can ride back with them.”
Her brow furrows and her eyes shimmer with hurt, as though I’ve told her I don’t want her to stay. In reality, I expect that after I tell her the guy next door that she’s shared a bed with turns into a wolf, is a murderer, and is being hunted by a rival pack she will run back to the safety of the city. Possibly even to another apartment. Or worse, back to Summerville. I don’t want to put this on her and then have her feel like she’s trapped with a monster all weekend.
“Turn around,” I instruct. She does what I ask with only a raised brow. Running my fingers through her long wavy hair, I separate it into thirds and quickly braid it back, pulling a hair tie from her counter where several are collected with other odds and ends in a bowl. “There, now your helmet will fit better.”
On the landing, I unlock my apartment and grab a jacket and spare helmet from the coat closet before re-locking the door. I hold the jacket out to her, hopeful that she’ll like it and that it fits.
“What’s this?” Kaycia asks, taking the jacket from me and handing me her backpack while she slides her arms into the sleeves. “Confident, huh?”
“Wishful thinking,” I answer. I bought it for her in anticipation of our upcoming trip, hoping she would be willing to ride with me. Luckily, it arrived early.
She runs her fingers over the padded portions, a little smile tilting the edge of her lips when I reach forward and fasten the zipper. My hands linger at her waist a moment longer than necessary, afraid of her slipping away.
“Thank you,” she says as I hand her backpack to her. “You don’t have a bag?”
“No. I keep things there for when I visit. Travel light remember?”
“Shane. Where are we going?”
“My vacation cabin.”
She breathes a deep exhale when we step back into the warm evening air and approach my motorcycle waiting at the curb.
“Why am I so fucking nervous?” she murmurs.
I can’t tell if it’s meant for me or just to herself, but I reply, “Because you’ve been taught to be cautious. And because today was intense.” She sputters a sarcastic laugh and gives me a sideways smile. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”
I hand her the spare helmet and she slides it over her hair before I adjust the chin strap. I tap her chin affectionately, then rub the pad of my thumb across her lip before putting my own helmet on and mount my bike.
“All right,” I say to her. She stands nervously to the side watching me. Without the urgency of fleeing the gallery she has time to think about what she’s doing. “Let me go over the basics now that we have a minute. Climb on behind me like before.”
She puts her palms on my shoulders and swings her leg over, sliding forward against my back. I turn to look over my shoulder to give her a run down on what she needs to know. “Try to relax. You can put your hands on my hips or around my waist. Tap twice if you need to tell me something or to stop. Lean with me on curves and turns—looking over my shoulder while we turn can help keep you with me. I’ll tap your leg if you need to hang on, okay?”
I can scent her anxiety and guilt floods me that she’s so nervous. With a brave smile she nods. My heart stumbles when her arms wrap around me, and all I can do is hope this goes smoother than I think it’s going to. I place my palm on top of where both her hands touch on my chest, squeezing once before separating them and placing them on my hips, then start the engine and head out of the city.