Chapter Twenty-Three
Ivy
I shouldn't go riding with him. Shouldn't go anywhere with him, not when every moment together makes me forget this is temporary. That he's keeping things from me. Important things.
"I can't believe I'm saying this, but..." I shake my head, unable to fight the smile spreading across my face even as my eyes burn. "Hand me a helmet. Let's take her for a ride."
His answering grin is pure triumph. "That's my girl."
The possessiveness in those three words should bother me. Instead, they send warmth flooding through my chest.
"Wait." Madison steps forward, her eyes huge as she takes in the bikes. "Can I... could I maybe come too?"
Thorne and I exchange a glance. I can see him weighing the responsibility, the risk, what it means to take a kid who's not his on a ride. But then his expression softens in a way I've only seen a handful of times.
"You ever ridden before?" he asks Madison.
She shakes her head. "Never. But I really want to."
"Do you get motion sick? Scared of heights or speed?"
"No, no, and definitely not." She's practically bouncing on her toes. She glances between Thorne and me.“Please? I promise I'll be good, I'll do whatever you say, I—"
"Alright." Thorne holds up a hand, fighting a smile, and looks at me. “Are you good with this?”
I shrug out of my jacket and hand it to Madison. “Only if you wear this.”
“What about you?” she asks.
Thorne moves to a cabinet along the wall and returns with a sleek summer riding jacket in midnight blue with gold accents and a helmet that matches the Bonnie perfectly.
He holds it out to me. “Here. Can't have you riding without proper gear."
I take it, turning it over in my hands. The interior is lined with premium padding, and my initials are embossed in gold on the back. "You had this custom made."
"Good thing, since Madison is wearing the one you borrowed last time." He's trying for casual, but I can see the tension in his shoulders. He cares what I think. He cares that I like it.
"Thank you," I say softly, running my fingers over the embossed initials. "You didn't just listen to my ramblings about my old Bonnie. You found her. You brought her back.”
"I always listen when you talk, Ivy." He turns to Madison, “You're riding with me. At least until she gets used to the bike. And you’ll follow every rule I give you. Deal?”
"Deal!" Madison throws her arms around him in an impulsive hug.
He freezes for half a second, clearly not expecting it, then carefully pats her back. When she pulls away, his ears are even pinker.
"Okay, first rule." He moves to a cabinet along the wall, pulling out helmets. "Safety gear is non-negotiable. You'll wear my sister's helmet." He produces a sleek black helmet with purple accents.
While he helps Madison with the strap, I move to the Bonneville. My Bonnie. Not that I can keep her, but I damn sure will ride her while staying with Thorne.
“Ready?” Thorne asks.
Madison bounces on her toes. “Are we going riding, or are we just going to stare at them all day?” Thorne barks out a laugh, and the tension breaks.
"Get on the Ducati, troublemaker. And remember—hold on tight, lean with me through turns, and if you need me to stop for any reason, tap my shoulder twice. "
"Got it." Madison approaches the bike, running her fingers along the red paint. "This is so cool."
"Wait until we're moving." Thorne swings his leg over, then helps Madison settle behind him. "Feet on the pegs, arms around my waist. Tight."
She wraps her arms around him, and something in my chest constricts at the sight. They look right together. Thorne patient and protective, Madison trusting and eager. Like family.
"Your turn, Ivy.” Thorne nods at Bonnie. "Let's see what she can do."
I approach the bike and throw my leg over. The seat molds to me, the controls falling exactly where my hands reach like it was made for me.
Because it was.
I pull on the helmet, swing my leg over, pull in the clutch, and hit the starter. The Bonneville roars to life with a deep, throaty purr that vibrates through my bones. This is power. This is freedom.
This is Thorne telling me he sees me, knows me, wants to give me what I love.
Thorne pulls out first, Madison's delighted laugh echoing off the garage walls as they exit. I follow, the Bonnie responding to my every touch like we've been partners for years.
It’s a hot day, but it doesn’t touch me as I ride the wind on the motorcycle. Thorne leads us from the suburbs of his estate to the rural roads lined with black fences.
For the first few miles, he keeps the pace easy, giving Madison time to adjust. I can see her gradually relaxing, her death grip on his waist loosening as she gains confidence.
By the time we hit the open stretch of two-lane highway, she's leaning with him through the curves like she's been doing it for years.
Thorne glances back at me, and even through his helmet, I can feel his smile. He revs the engine, pulling farther ahead.
Oh, you want to play?
I twist the throttle and the Bonnie surges forward. The acceleration is smooth and powerful, eating up the distance between us. Thorne accelerates, pulling a little ahead of me, and Madison's delighted shriek carries over the wind.
We barrel down the empty road, the bikes growling in harmony. This isn’t a race, it’s a stolen slice of time where nothing exists except the rumble of engines, the rush of wind, and the three of us carving through the heat of a Kentucky summer.
Thorne takes a turn onto a narrow road that climbs into the hills.
The curves come faster, tighter, requiring focus and skill.
I lean into each turn, the bike and I moving as one.
This is what I missed. The freedom, that feeling of complete presence, where every sense is engaged and there's no room for worry or doubt.
The road crests a hill, and Thorne pulls into a scenic overlook. I follow, cutting my engine as he does the same. The sudden silence is almost shocking after the constant rumble.
Madison practically tumbles off the Ducati, yanking off her helmet. "That was AMAZING!" She's talking with her whole body—hands gesturing wildly, bouncing on her toes. For the first time since Mom's funeral, she looks untethered from grief. "Can we do it again? Can we go faster?"
"Easy, speed demon." Thorne dismounts more carefully, removing his helmet. His hair is mussed, sticking up in several directions, and he looks more relaxed than I've seen him since the call about Williams. "What did you think, Ivy?"
I shut down my motorcycle, adrenaline still singing through my veins, making everything feel sharp and bright. "It's incredible." I run my hand along the tank. "She handles like a dream. Responsive, powerful, but smooth. I've never ridden anything this nice."
"Good." He moves closer, his hand resting on my hip briefly. "Because I like having you as my riding partner. We’ll have our two-person MC this summer.”
This summer. The words should be light, promising. Instead they settle heavy in my chest like stones. Another month and a handful of weeks before I take Madison to New York. Before whatever this is between us becomes just another thing I left behind in Kentucky.
Madison has wandered to the edge of the overlook, staring out at the view. "It's so pretty up here," she says softly. "Everything seems smaller. Less complicated."
Thorne and I join her at the railing. She's right.
From up here, the world does seem simpler.
The valley below stretches out in golden light.
There are pastures divided by blackboard fences, a few horses grazing in the distance.
A creek cuts through the bottomland, and the far hills roll away in dark green waves, one ridge behind another fading into haze.
"You know what we should do?" Madison turns to us, her expression mischievous. "We should get ice cream."
"Ice cream?" I raise an eyebrow. “It’s nine in the morning.”
“So? Let’s go to a little town where no one knows us. We could walk around downtown and look at the shops. Do normal people stuff." She looks between us hopefully. "Please?"
"Normal people stuff?" Thorne repeats, sounding amused. “Most normal people have ice cream for breakfast?”
“Fine, we can get eggs instead.” She rolls her eyes. “Come on, let’s do normal stuff. Like a regular family would do."
The word "family" hangs in the air, heavier than she probably intended. Thorne's hand tightens on the railing, knuckles going white for a heartbeat before his fingers relax. His jaw works like he's chewing on words he won't let himself say.
"I think ice cream sounds delicious,” I say, bumping my shoulder against his. "Come on, Blackstone. When's the last time you did something normal?"
He looks at me, and for a moment, the walls drop. There's longing there, raw and unguarded, chased by fear. He blinks and some of his shield returns. He nods. "Alright. Ice cream it is."
Madison pumps her fist. "Yes! Okay, can I ride with you this time, Ivy? I want to see what that bike feels like."
I glance at Thorne, who shrugs. "If you’re comfortable with it."
"I'm good if you are," I tell Madison. "But same rules apply—hold tight, lean with me, two taps if you need to stop."
"Got it." She's already heading for the Bonneville, practically vibrating with excitement.
The ride into town is slower and more careful as I get used to Madison on my bike.
But she's a natural, moving with the dips and curves.
When we pull up outside a vintage ice cream parlor with pink and white striped awnings, she's hopping off before I have the sidestand down.
"That was even better than the first time," she announces. “You're like, really good at this."
"Thanks." I remove my helmet, running a palm along my head to feel for hair that escaped my braid. "You're a pretty great passenger."