Chapter 24. Kit
The canyon opens around me, two lanes of black asphalt cutting through rock and pine, nothing on my right but air and the drop that makes my stomach float every time I lean the bike into a turn.
I'm tucked low, chest close to the tank, the engine singing high in the revs and vibration climbing my arms through the handlebars into my shoulders.
Wind tears at my helmet. My throat is raw from laughing.
It's still the KTM Soren lent me. Vera is still being worked on, slowly but surely, even after months, but I'm in no rush at all.
Behind me, Dex's Kawasaki howls out of the third switchback, the exhaust note carrying forward on the wind, and I hear Sol answer two corners back with the deeper growl of their Harley.
A lot of riding groups seem to cluster around one kind of bike.
Not us. We like everything. There are five of us spaced through the canyon today, the formation opening naturally whenever the road starts twisting so everybody has room to choose their own line.
I glance in my mirror and catch Allie coming through the long curve behind us, compact and precise.
She's good. She's always been good. The best of us.
Soren isn't here. He's swamped at the shop. But when I asked if he was okay with me riding with the group without him, he said he trusted me to be careful and told me to have fun with my friends. I take that seriously. I wouldn't break that trust.
The road straightens between switchbacks, and I roll on the throttle.
The KTM answers immediately, smooth and eager beneath me.
The suspension works over a rise in the asphalt, the whole bike lightening for a second before settling again, and the sensation is so clean and complete that I start laughing inside my helmet all over again.
Riding is when I feel the most alive, and here I am, alive, with my friends, with my amazing boyfriend waiting for me back home.
What I told Rue was true. This is better than a roller coaster.
I think it's probably as close as anyone gets to riding a dragon, assuming dragons were real and required regular oil changes.
Dex is ahead of me now, leaning his Kawasaki cleanly through the next bend.
I follow at a safe distance, then choose my own line through the corner after it, the KTM settling underneath me exactly where I expect it to.
At the next straight, Dex glances into his mirror and gives me a quick gesture with one hand.
Challenge accepted. Not stupidly. Just enough.
I close some of the distance on the straight, and by the next curve he's still ahead of me, which means he's going to be insufferable about it later.
Good.
The overlook appears on the right, a gravel turnout wide enough for several bikes.
We peel in one at a time, asphalt giving way to loose stone crunching beneath the tires.
I kill the engine and pull off my helmet.
My hair is plastered flat with sweat, my scalp prickling in the dry heat, and the grin on my face is so wide it hurts.
"That line through the fourth was absolute garbage," Sol says, swinging a leg off his bike. His bald head appears when he removes his helmet. "You pushed wide enough that I thought you were going to marry the guardrail."
"Hell no. I'm riding safe today."
Dex snorts. He's looking even more like Bad Bunny after his new haircut.
Allie pulls off her helmet. Her hair is a wreck, sticking out in every direction, and she shakes it loose with both hands before looking at me. "You were showing off on that last straight."
"Within reason."
"Bullshit," Dex says, already walking toward the guardrail, riding boots kicking up little clouds of dust. "You saw me ahead of you and took it personally."
"I did not."
"You absolutely did."
"I merely observed an injustice and attempted to correct it."
Sol laughs.
The view from the overlook is the kind of thing that makes you stop talking even if you're mid-insult.
The canyon drops away in layers of rock and pine, the river far below reduced to a thin silver thread.
The sky is so wide and blue it feels like something you could fall into.
I stand at the rail beside Dex and look at it.
Actually look. That's something Soren has been teaching me without ever really teaching me: how to stand somewhere and let the place be what it is instead of turning it into scenery behind whatever I'm trying not to think about.
Light catches on the river. A hawk circles somewhere above the ridge. My chest feels open. I'm so happy.
"Which way back?" someone asks behind us. One of the newer Redline members, a guy on a modified Honda I've ridden with twice, whose name I keep forgetting because I'm terrible with names.
"Ridge road," Sol says. "Faster. Less traffic."
"Canyon road," Allie counters. "More fun. More corners."
The argument picks up immediately. Dex joins in with both hands planted on the rail. My body is still humming pleasantly from the ride when I reach into my jacket pocket for my phone to check the time.
And—
The phone is cold.
I pull it out. Black screen. Not dim. Not asleep. Dead. I press the power button. Nothing. Hold it. Nothing. Press harder, as if panic might somehow jump-start a lithium-ion battery that has given everything it had.
Nothing.
My stomach drops. A sudden cold hollow opens beneath my ribs.
I try to remember the last time I checked it.
Two hours ago. Gas station before the canyon.
A message from Dex confirming the meet spot.
I sent a thumbs-up, shoved the phone back into my jacket, and forgot about it because once I'm riding, I forget about almost everything.
Rule Three. Communication. Answer texts within reason. Show up when you say you will. No disappearing.
The battery dying isn't my fault. I know that. Soren would know that too.
Then I look around.
Dex has a phone. Sol has a phone. Allie definitely has a phone. The Honda guy whose name I don't know probably has one. There is no emergency here. All I have to do is say, Hey, can I borrow your phone for thirty seconds?
My stomach tightens because then I have to admit why. Because then somebody knows I fucked up. Because then I have to call Soren and hear whatever is in his voice when he realizes I haven't been reachable for two hours. I should ask. I know I should.
I don't.
"I'm heading to Redline," I say. My voice comes out steady. Bright, even. The particular register I use when I'm lying with my whole body. "You guys take the ridge. I'll see you there."
Dex nods. Sol throws me a casual salute. Allie looks at me half a second longer than everyone else. Her eyes do that thing. She knows something is off, which means I should definitely stop. Borrow her phone. Send the text. Make the good choice.
Instead, I put my helmet on.
Excellent. Growth.
I mount up faster than I need to. The engine catches on the first try, and I roll out of the turnout without looking back, gravel spitting beneath the tires before I reach asphalt again.
The canyon is still beautiful. The road is still good.
The KTM still answers every input. But the ride has changed.
All I can think about now is Soren checking his phone and not getting an answer.
Soren's bike is parked three spaces from the entrance when I get to Redline.
I spot it before I've even shut off the KTM.
He's been here a while. He told me he'd meet me after the ride.
The shop closes at two on Saturdays. I dismount, helmet tucked under my arm, and the twenty feet between my bike and the door feel like two hundred.
Inside, Redline on a Saturday evening is packed.
Familiar noise. Familiar smells. Leather, beer, engine oil clinging to jackets, somebody laughing too loudly somewhere near the bar.
I scan the room and find Soren almost immediately.
He's standing near the bar with his arms crossed.
There's a glass in front of him, something amber and untouched.
His jaw is set. He's staring at the wall behind the bar, or maybe at nothing.
He doesn't look angry. But Soren almost never looks angry. He stays calm even when I fuck up spectacularly. My chest hurts. I don't want to joke. I don't want to perform. I want him.
I want my Daddy.
I walk straight to him and hug him.
He stiffens for half a second in surprise before his arms close around me, then he relaxes. One hand comes up into my hair, and I bury my face in his chest. He smells like motor oil and his cologne and home.
"I'm sorry, Daddy."
The words are muffled into his shirt.
"Your phone," he says, still petting me.
"I know. I'm sorry. The battery died. I didn't notice.
We hit the canyon with Dex and Sol and Allie and two newer guys, and the ride was so good, and I checked it at the gas station and then I just rode for like two hours.
When we stopped at the overlook, I went to check the time and it was dead. I should've checked sooner. I'm sorry."
The words tumble out. Not performative. Just fast. Soren listens without interrupting. Doesn't sigh. Doesn't pull away. His hand keeps moving slowly through my hair.
"The ride was really good. Amazing. I was careful, I promise. The canyon was beautiful. There was this river and the light was hitting it, and—"
"I'm glad you had a good time, baby boy." I stop. His voice is warm. Not mad. My body loosens by a fraction. Then he says, "Your battery dying isn't what you're in trouble for."
I blink against his shirt. "What?"
He eases me back enough to look at me. "The battery died. Batteries die."
Oh.
"You didn't know until the overlook."
"No."
"So that wasn't a choice."
I stare at him. Soren's thumb brushes once under my eye.
"What did you do after you found out?"
Shit. I look away.
"Kit. There were people there. With phones."
"Yes."
"Did you ask to borrow one?"
"No."
"Why?"
I swallow. "I got scared."
"Of me?"
"Not exactly."