Chapter 27 #2
“Oh.”
“I told you.”
One corner became another, then another. Soon he stopped thinking about when to lean, whether he was doing everything wrong, and his body followed Owen’s. Every gentle shift of weight, every lean into another sweeping bend, every effortless correction.
Without really noticing when it happened, Matt slid his hands from Owen’s hips to around his waist.
It felt better. Closer. More natural.
The wind rushed around them, carrying the scent of warm tarmac, cut grass and the occasional salty hint from the sea beyond the fields.
They climbed a rise, and suddenly the countryside opened around them in every direction, patchwork fields glowing beneath the August sun.
Matt laughed. He couldn’t help it.
“What?” Owen asked.
“This is incredible.”
“I thought you might like it.”
“It’s…” Matt searched for the words and failed. “I get it now. Why you keep coming back.”
Owen was quiet for a moment. “Yeah.”
They swept through another bend.
Matt found himself smiling for no reason beyond the simple fact that he was there.
His chest pressed against Owen’s back every time they slowed.
Every acceleration nudged him closer again.
He became acutely aware of Owen’s breathing, the warmth radiating through the leather jacket, the easy confidence in the way he handled the bike.
Matt had expected excitement, speed, adrenaline.
He hadn’t expected to feel safe.
He rested his helmet for a second against the back of Owen’s shoulder, simply because he wanted to. He closed his eyes for the briefest heartbeat before opening them again to another ribbon of winding road disappearing towards the horizon.
“Where are we?”
“Heading towards Carisbrooke. Our first history stop.”
Matt chuckled. “How many stops have you planned?”
“Only two. The castle today, and Osborne House tomorrow. You can’t do both in one day. Information overload. Besides, today is more about showing you the island.”
Matt looked beyond Owen’s shoulder as another stretch of countryside unfolded before them.
The words lingered.
Showing you the island.
Not taking him—showing him, as though Owen wanted him to see what Owen saw whenever he came here.
The castle appeared in the distance, its ancient stone walls rising above the surrounding trees and the roofs of the town.
Matt smiled inside his helmet. He was wrapped around Owen’s waist, watching the world unfold one bend at a time.
For the first time since Eric’s phone call, his mind stopped asking impossible questions, and quietened.
Owen paused before putting his helmet back on. “Best bit?”
Matt glanced up at the stone ramparts. “Walking there.” Then he grinned. “And of course the donkey in the Well House.”
He laughed. “Jigsaw was a character, wasn’t he?”
“So where now?” Matt replaced his helmet, then put on his gloves.
“West Wight.” Owen gestured to the town of Newport. “Which is a world away from this.”
The ride from Carisbrooke to Chale felt different.
Perhaps it was because Matt no longer clung quite so tightly every time they approached a bend.
His movements had become instinctive, his body leaning with the bike instead of against it.
Or perhaps it was the way Matt’s hands had migrated from Owen’s hips to his waist without either of them mentioning it.
Whatever the reason, Owen found himself smiling.
“You’ve gone quiet,” Matt observed over the intercom.
“I’m driving.”
“Liar.”
Owen chuckled. “Okay, I’m concentrating.”
“You’re smiling.”
“You can hear smiling now?”
“I can hear yours.”
Owen laughed outright. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“I make no promises.”
The conversation faded as another series of winding roads carried them through sleepy villages and rolling countryside. Matt’s grip tightened as Owen accelerated out of one bend, then relaxed again.
Earlier, every bend had made him tense. Now his movements matched the bike as though he’d been riding pillion for years.
It felt natural, no hesitation anymore, no uncertainty, just quiet trust. At some point during the ride, Matt had stopped holding on because he was nervous.
Now he held on because that was where his hands wanted to be.
Owen wasn’t sure why that thought warmed him quite so much.
Matt had reacted to the castle with the enthusiasm of an excited schoolboy, reading every information board, asking questions that made Owen stop and think.
Owen had visited Carisbrooke before, but somehow, seeing it through Matt’s eyes had made it feel new again.
He found himself remembering details he’d long forgotten simply because Matt wanted to know them.
Stopping longer than usual because Matt had spotted something Owen had always walked past. Laughing when Matt declared Charles I had displayed ‘remarkably poor decision-making skills’ when he’d regularly eaten twenty-course meals and had grown too fat to escape through the bars.
I was right to bring him.
The thought arrived so quietly it barely registered.
He’d wanted Matt to have a break from the dissertation, to stop thinking for a while.
Owen realised he’d stopped thinking too.
For the first time in longer than he cared to admit, he wasn’t comparing today with visits he’d made before. He wasn’t remembering where Ben had stood, or which cake they’d favoured in the tearoom.
Today wasn’t trying to recreate anything.
It was simply… today.
He pictured Matt standing in Osborne House, probably armed with a dozen questions.
Warmth spread through Owen when he realised he couldn’t wait to hear every one of them.
The road climbed gently, and the sea appeared on the horizon, a strip of almost Mediterranean deep blue beneath an endless summer sky.
Matt gave an appreciative whistle over the intercom. “Oh.”
Owen smiled.
“We haven’t got to the really good bit yet.”