Chapter 13 #2
She nods excitedly once again and scoops that flavor into the last container.
All the while, I start counting the number of waffle cones stacked behind her in hopes of keeping the thoughts at bay.
I know that if I start to go down the rabbit hole, that there’s a good chance I won’t be able to climb out fully.
Ashia deserves more than half of me present tonight, and it’s about time that I start being what she needs me to be.
No more crazy shit for me.
Maybe then, Satori will shove his opinions up his ass.
Diane places the containers in a bag, along with little plastic cups of different toppings, even though I wasn’t going to get any, and then rings me up.
“Is that your motorcycle out there?” She points with a finger, and her face suddenly grows concerned.
“Yes, ma’am. It is.”
“Well, honey. It’s hotter than Alabama concrete outside.
This will melt before you get home.” Worry is laced into her tone, but before I can assure her that I’m going straight to the house, she steps towards the opening to their back room.
“I’ll be right back, sugar!” she yells back.
I lay my cash on the counter, all while watching to see what her next move is.
Is it weird that I picture that sweet lady popping out of the back with a shot gun? Yes. Do I think of it anyway? Absolutely. Ashia is a perfect example of ‘small but deadly,’ so, I won’t underestimate anyone because of their size ever again.
She walks back out with four gallon-sized Ziplock bags full of ice, and she drops them into the bag with the ice cream.
“There you go, honey. That should keep it nice and cold.”
I can’t help but chuckle.
“Thank you, Diane. Don’t worry, I’m taking it straight to the house. I’m sure she’ll love it all.”
“No, no. Thank you! Bring her by here soon, and we’ll hook her up. If you don’t come back before that baby is born, you better bring me some pictures!” She points her finger at me like she’s about to discipline a child, and I can’t help but laugh a little louder.
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you again.” I take the bag and make my way to the bike.
I’m shocked all of this actually fits in my saddle bag, but it’s fit weirder things like body parts and weapons.
So, I take it as a win and hop on. Before I pull out, I check the time, and thankfully, I should have about twenty minutes before Ashia even leaves Cut Me Down.
It should give me enough time to get home and put this all away before I start on our dinner.
I made sure to plan for something that didn’t include avocados, because we don’t need that omen bringing us any kind of bad luck tonight.
The bike rumbles in a way that calms me as I pull out onto the street.
It’s not too harsh so that it rattles my nerves, but it’s soothing.
All of my troubles seem to disappear when I ride.
That’s probably why I love taking Ashia on as many as I can.
Now that she’s pregnant, she can’t ride with me, but once springtime comes around, and she heals after she gives birth, I’ll take her on as long of a ride as she wants.
A smile sprouts on my face at the thought, and my cheeks rub against my helmet.
By mid-February, I’m going to be a dad. Our princess will finally be in my arms. Ashia can joke about thinking it’s a boy all she wants, but I know better.
I know deep in my gut that she’s carrying my perfect little girl.
My intuition is so strong that I’ve already planned on what to buy, what to build, and all of the things I’ll say to her.
I’ve accepted the fact that our home will be covered in frills, flowers, and pink—a lot of fucking pink—and I can’t think of anything more perfect.
Even as I drive up the other side of the mountain, the nature around me seems more alive today than ever before.
It’s been forever since I’ve taken this route, and I’ve forgotten how peaceful it is.
The roads curve more, and while it takes a little longer to get back home, this was shorter than going back towards downtown to go the normal route.
There’s not as many cars on the roads, and even though it is hot as hell, the shade from the forest trees does a damn good job of providing some relief.
After a few minutes of a perfect ride, and I’m about halfway home, a loud revving comes up behind me.
I glance in the side mirror, curious of who’s coming up the mountain so quickly, when a black, four-door BMW comes into view.
The windows are tinted, and while it doesn’t necessarily raise any alarms, they’re driving erratically.
I move over to the right side of the road and wave on my left to signal that it’s safe for them to pass.
I’m not stubborn enough to try and cut them off, because I don’t want to die today.
They apparently don’t get the hint, though, and rev again until they’re right on my ass.
So, I speed up, trying to match them enough to keep them from ramming into me, when they start to swerve from side to side.
I try to keep my eyes on the road, but my attention is continuously drawn to the car.
They honk loudly, stealing my attention once again, and just as I turn back around to pull over, I draw in a sharp gasp.
Another car, I think black as well, swerves into our lane.
I try to brake and cut in time, but as the back of my bike fishtails, it catches the front of the second car, and I suddenly feel weightless.
My back smacks into something hard, and glass shatters before I feel air again.
A swift breeze brushes over my neck, and then a burn scrapes across my back, then my shoulder, and then everywhere else as the world starts to tumble with my body.
The leaves, the trees, the rocks, what I think is glass—it all collides like a motion picture, and then it’s just flashes of black.
My ribs are screaming at me, and my limbs throb with pain.
It’s impossible to breathe with the way my head is thrashing around, and my helmet is only adding weight to my unstable neck.
I can’t die like this. I just promised her last night that I would be more careful.
Images of her tear-streaked face flash into my mind, and then the memory from this morning breaks through as well. They clash together like oil and water, kept apart like the same ends of a magnet. Just out of reach.
The rough burn suddenly turns into a warm plush, and then it’s over in an instant as my back hits something solid and rough.
Harsh cracking breaks along my entire torso, and I yell out once I finally fall back to whatever softness is now beneath me.
I try to breathe, but suddenly, the small space in the helmet isn’t big enough, and it’s hot. Way too hot.
As I reach up to knock the helmet off, I scream again, feeling the piercing pain and burn from my shoulders as it shoots through my limbs.
Footsteps approach me, and while the pain is insurmountable, I’m relieved to see that at least one of the drivers stopped.
They help me take the helmet off, and I grit my teeth as they roll me onto my back.
The guy standing over me is wearing a burnt orange and black plaid shirt, and is shiny bald. Poking out from the shirt is a tattoo on his neck, and before I get a chance to make out what it is, he turns away and reaches for something.
I go to speak, but find that even pulling in a breath is difficult. With every inhale, the pain returns. It’s like someone took my muscles in their hands and decided to stretch them to test the limits. With a grunt and forced breath, I extend my arm out towards the stranger.
“I need to call my wife, please…” I manage to choke out as I watch him pull his phone up to his ear, probably calling for an ambulance.
She’s going to be terrified. She needs to know I didn’t do this on purpose.
That I would never intentionally leave her.
I have every intention of keeping my promise, and something like a motorcycle crash isn’t going to make me break it.
Everything around me starts to fade as I struggle to breathe, but I don’t miss the void look in his eyes as he glares back down at me. He’s not scared. He’s not worried. If anything? He looks accomplished with his blank stare—like whatever this is, it’s exactly what was supposed to happen.
“Target acquired,” he says in a weird, stoic tone.
He clearly has a Russian accent, and my heart sinks.
My hand falls to my chest, and a pained groan forces its way out of my mouth at the discomfort.
“The distraction crew is already in place. We’re moving out.
” He hangs up without a second thought, and I wince at a pinch on the side of my neck.
I can’t see his other hand, but I don’t miss the way his face doesn’t even twitch as the world fades around me.