Chapter 4
Four
Nick
Her hand was in mine. And she wanted to stay.
It felt too good. Like something I hadn’t earned.
I didn’t understand why she wasn’t pulling away.
Why wasn’t she asking me to take her home?
She was a teacher, and I was just a fuck-up with a long list of reasons to run.
She didn’t see the guy who’d steal from his own family just to buy another bottle.
She didn’t look at me the way my brothers did.
Waiting for the lie to slip, for the anger to come back, for something to break.
She wasn’t there for that version of me.
The one I’ve buried deep and tried like hell to forget. The version I can’t even remember half the time, thanks to how far gone I used to be. But I didn’t let go. I couldn’t.
We were quiet. I liked that. Most people couldn’t sit in silence without filling it. Like they were afraid of their own thoughts. But Mya wasn’t afraid. Not of mine, not of hers, and apparently not of me.
“This is the most peace I’ve had in weeks,” she whispered.
I turned my head slightly, eyes tracing the moonlight over her face. She looked so real here. Not loud or fidgeting or trying to fit anywhere. Just… here. And it was the most dangerous thing I’d ever seen.
“Same,” I said.
She looked at me like she was trying to read something I didn’t want to say out loud.
“You ride for peace?” she asked.
“I ride to stay out of bars,” I said. It came out flatter than I meant it to. But it was the truth.
Her lips parted like she wanted to ask something else, but I beat her to it. “The bike doesn’t ask anything from me. Doesn’t expect me to be better than I am. It’s just noise and movement. No past. No future.”
She was quiet for a moment, then, in a gentle voice, said, “That sounds lonely.”
I almost laughed. Not because it was funny, but because it was true. And I’d gotten good at pretending it didn’t matter.
“I do lonely well,” I said.
Mya shifted closer, lying on her side now. Her hand still held mine, but her thumb had started tracing slow circles across my skin, tracing one of my many tattoos. I hated how good that felt.
“I think I’m dangerous to myself sometimes, too,” she said.
I didn’t move, didn’t speak. I just wanted to listen. It was truly the only thing I’d ever been good at. Especially when people are unraveling and don’t know they’re doing it.
“I’m not like that,” she continued. “But I’m exhausted all the time. I wake up already behind.”
Her hand pulled away for a second. I could see the way her wheels were spinning.
Almost like she was calculating exactly how much she should say.
It was like she regretted saying anything, but I grabbed her hand again.
Gave it a small squeeze and then held it loosely to give her the choice to take it back, but hoping she wouldn’t.
And when she didn’t? Fuck, I felt something I hadn’t felt in years. Alive.
Her voice was barely a whisper when she finally spoke again. “When I was a kid, I learned how to take up less space.”
I looked at her, but her eyes were already glossy as she looked back at me.
“I was the easy one. The helper. The quiet girl who didn’t ask for anything unless she really needed it.
Which was… almost never.” Her lips curved into a humorless smile.
“That’s how you survive in a house where everyone’s already tired. You learn not to be one more thing.”
The breath left my chest like a punch, to think of her as a child, feeling like she took up too much space.
“I didn’t realize until recently how much I still do that. I shrink, I back down. I apologize for existing too loud.” Her voice cracked, just a little. “I say sorry when I don’t need to. I let people interrupt and talk over me. I don’t correct them. I just… let it go.”
Her fingers curled into mine now, like she’d been waiting for someone to do that all her life.
“I don’t want to be that version of me anymore,” she said, softer now. “The version that disappears to keep the peace.”
“You don’t have to be small here.” I promised her.
“You say things like that,” she murmured, “and I believe you.”
I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear again. “You can take up space, Mya.” I wanted to say so much more, like in my bed. In my life. In my head. But this was never going to work, and when the sun came up, Mya would leave my life as fast as she came into it.
“You still show up every day for other people,” I pointed out. “Even when you’re barely holding yourself together.”
She nodded. “Because if I stop… I’m afraid I won’t start again.”
God, I knew that feeling.
“You’re not broken, Mya,” I told her, hating how true it felt. “You’re just tired from carrying too much for too long. There’s a difference.”
“People don’t usually say that,” she noted.
“Most people don’t know what it feels like,” I said. “But I do.”
And we just… stayed there for a moment. Holding hands in the dark like it was the only thing that actually made sense in this fucked-up world.
She wasn’t light because she was bubbly or cheerful or “easy.” She was light because she chose to keep glowing, even with her head being loud. Even when no one noticed.
“I didn’t mean to say all that. Again.”
“I’m glad you did.” And I meant that.
When she looked at me this time, it wasn’t curiosity or pity in her eyes. It was recognition. The kind of understanding you don’t find in strangers. The kind that says, I see the mess in you, and I’m not running from it. And honestly, that terrified me more than anything else.
“You’re not the problem.” I reminded her.
“You think you are.” She pointed out.
It wasn’t a question. And she wasn’t wrong.
“I’m not like you,” I shrugged. “You’re light. You’re hope. I’ve spent years trying to drink away everything good I ever touched.”
“Why?”
“Because I ruin things,” I answered honestly, eyes drifting back to the stars.
“People. Myself. I get too close, and I burn through everything. Drinking made it easier. Made me forget that I was the problem. It numbed all the times I made my mom cry, begging me to get help. To just stop. And when I couldn’t admit I had a problem, I did the only thing I knew how.
I disappeared. I stopped talking to her.
Like silence could somehow hurt her less. ”
I felt her fingers twitch in mine, but she didn’t let go.
Not even then. And maybe that’s why I kept noticing her hand in mine.
Because most people pull away when they get too close and see the mess I really am.
But she didn’t. Her hand was still in mine.
Like maybe I wouldn’t poison her just by touching her.
“You’re not ruining this,” she said gently.
And I wanted to believe her so badly it hurt. But hope was a dangerous thing for people like me. It made you forget about the fire until you were already standing in it.
“I’m not someone you fix,” I told her. “I’m not someone you save.”
“I’m not trying to,” she whispered. “I’m just here. With you.”
And just like that, I felt seen. I felt like maybe it would be okay to forgive myself. Not tonight or next week. But at some point.
My skin ached for her. My thoughts were screaming, don’t ruin this, don’t ruin her.
I shook my head and stood up, holding out a hand for Mya and helping her up.
We both stared at each other, neither of us knowing what we should do or what we should say.
It was weird. She was this stranger, but I had already told her more than I had told anyone else.
Maybe it was the fact that I’d never see her again.
What was said tonight was just that. Tonight. She wouldn’t be here tomorrow.
I walked us back toward the bike and reached for the helmet when she stopped me, her fingers brushing my arm.
It was a light touch, but enough to make me freeze.
Her eyes found mine, wide and unreadable, like she was holding something back or about to give something away.
Then her back met the side of the bike, chrome glinting in the moonlight behind her like a spotlight.
I stepped closer, slow and unsteady, like a man crossing a line he swore he wouldn’t. My hand hovered near her hip, not quite touching, but I could feel the heat of her skin. I wanted to taste the breath she was holding. But I waited, because wanting her and deserving her were two different things.
“You okay?” I asked. Even now, I had to ask. I had to be sure.
She nodded. “You?”
“I don’t know,” I swallowed. “But I want to be.”
“Then kiss me.” She bit her lip, her voice so soft I almost didn’t hear her. “Just this once. Just for tonight.”
My hand came up, fingers brushing along the curve of her cheek, then tracing the line of her jaw like I was trying to memorize her by touch alone.
And then I kissed her. I probably should’ve asked again if she was sure, if she really wanted this…
But tonight, I needed to believe I could have something that felt even remotely good.
It wasn’t rushed or messy or anything I used to run away from my past with.
It was quiet. Steady. Her lips met mine like it was something she’d been thinking about for a while, something she needed.
Her hands moved up my chest slowly, fingers curling into my shirt like she didn’t want to let go.
I kissed her back with the same kind of care, like I was afraid to break whatever this was.
She didn’t feel like a mistake. She felt like the first right thing I’d let myself want in a long time.
I pressed closer, one hand braced against the bike behind her, the other still holding her face like she might vanish if I let go.
She kissed me back like she meant it, like I wasn’t broken.
I grabbed the side of her hips and lifted her on the bike.
I didn’t know what I was doing or what we were doing.
I didn’t have a fucking plan here, but I knew I never wanted her lips to leave mine.
The kiss got more aggressive, my thumbs digging into her skin, and I wished this small little dress she was wearing was on the ground. She wasn’t the type of girl you fuck on your bike and never see again, but I had a feeling that was the type of girl she wanted to be tonight.
Her fingers fisted into my shirt like she needed something to hold onto, and hell if that wasn’t exactly how I felt too.
I kissed her harder, deeper, letting all that mess inside me pour out through my mouth and into hers.
I didn’t deserve this, deserve her, but right now, she was kissing me like I did.
Like I was more than the wreck I kept pretending I wasn’t.
I pulled back just enough to catch my breath, to really see her.
Her lips were parted, her eyes a little dazed, like she was still caught up in all of it.
I rested my forehead against hers, letting the quiet settle between us.
Her skin was warm beneath my hands, and for a second, I just held her there, like I needed the moment to last a little longer before the world came rushing back in.
Mya tugged me closer again, her hands skimming my body.
“You sure?” I whispered, voice rough. My thumbs brushed slow circles into her hips.
She nodded once. Small, but sure. And I was gone.
I reached down and grabbed the hem of that little dress, just barely skimming the top of her thighs.
My hands were shaking, not from nerves, but from how badly I wanted her, how much I felt her.
Every inch of her body was like a magnet, pulling at the parts of me I thought were long dead.
Her legs wrapped around my waist like it was the most natural thing in the world, like she already knew what we were doing before I did.
“You have no idea what you’re doing to me,” I muttered against her throat, kissing down until she tipped her head back, giving me more. Her skin tasted like summer and sin. Like something I shouldn’t get used to, because I knew I didn’t get to keep her.
She pulled at my hair when I sucked a mark into her collarbone, and I let her.
Let her take control for a second. Let her guide us somewhere I wasn’t sure we could come back from.
My hands moved again, slow but hungry, trailing up her thighs under that damn dress.
Every touch made her exhale like she was finally letting herself fall.
And I was right there with her. I could’ve stopped. Probably should have. But nothing about this felt wrong. Not when she was gripping me like I was the only thing she wanted in this world. Not when she kissed me like she didn’t care about tomorrow.
And for the first time in years, I didn’t either.