Chapter 4
four
brEE
Iglance at the bike, at him, then back at the bike. My palms are already clammy, and I’m pretty sure I just forgot how my legs are supposed to work. I wipe my hands down the sides of my dress like that’ll magically make me braver.
“Ever been on a bike before?” Callan asks.
I shake my head, a small, jerky motion I try to disguise with a shrug. “Nope.”
His eyes are gentle now, like he’s seeing right through the bravado I’m barely holding together.
He’s charming, I’ll give him that. Even as he stands here, all rugged good looks, scruffy edges, and magnetic energy.
I try to steady my breath, but it’s pointless.
When he drapes the jacket over my shoulders, the warmth of it and him sinks into me, the familiar scent of leather and spice wrapping around me like a hug I didn’t know I needed.
And then he grabs a glossy black helmet, holding it out toward me. “Here you go. Safety first.”
I take it, but my fingers fumble over the smooth surface like I’ve never held a helmet before. A few years ago, I wouldn’t have blinked at this. Adrenaline and throwing myself headfirst into the unknown used to be my language. But now there’s this spark of hesitation.
Before I can figure out how to work the straps, he steps closer, his hands brushing against mine as he gently takes the helmet.
“Let me,” he murmurs as he adjusts it for me. His fingers graze beneath my chin as he fastens the clasp, and it sends a shiver straight through me. Nerves, not fear, but still enough to leave me unsteady.
Then he flips the visor down with a smirk that’s pure mischief. It’s cocky and irresistible. “Lookin’ good, Sunshine.”
I watch as he swings his leg over the bike and settles into the seat. He glances over his shoulder and pats the space behind him. “You coming?”
I hesitate for a beat, the cool evening air catching the hem of my dress as it flutters around my ankles. My fingers toy with the fabric at my sides as I eye the bike, less like a machine now and more like a dare I’m not sure I can take back once I say yes.
I step closer, gathering the length of my dress in one hand and awkwardly hiking it just enough to swing a leg over without flashing the whole street.
It’s far from graceful. I wobble slightly, one hand catching on his shoulder for balance, but I settle behind him, tucking myself in close, the heat of his body seeping into me even through the layers of clothing.
“Hold on tight,” he says before the engine growls to life.
I slip my arms around his waist, fingers interlocking over his abdomen. He tenses for a moment, muscles flexing beneath my touch, before relaxing back into me.
“You ready for this?” he calls out, his voice rising above the engine’s rumble.
A grin spreads across my face before I can stop it. It’s impossible not to match his energy. “As ready as I’ll ever be!”
He reaches to pull my hands a bit tighter, pulling me closer against his back, and it’s impossible not to notice how firmly he’s built.
Knox’s little brother, who? There’s nothing little about this man.
His hands move to the handlebars as he revs the engine. The vibrations pulse through me, igniting every nerve like a live wire as I grip him a little harder. The intoxicating scent of something rich and slightly sweet, something entirely him surrounds me.
He guns the accelerator, and we peel out of the parking lot. The sudden burst of speed makes my breath catch in my throat, panic flaring immediately.
I don’t breathe at first. My heart’s in my throat, my stomach somewhere near my knees, and for one awful second, all I can think is what the hell am I doing?
Then Callan shifts slightly, one hand dropping from the handlebar to brush over mine where it clings to his waist. It’s quick, maybe even unconscious, but the message is there. I’ve got you.
That small gesture settles me. The thrum of the engine is still loud in my ears, but his steadiness cuts through the chaos. I let out the breath I’ve been holding, pressing in closer, letting the heat of his body subdue the fear still prickling at the edges of my consciousness.
My thighs hug his, my instincts kicking in as I give myself over to the motion. The speed no longer feels like a threat. It’s a release.
The world around us melts into a blur of motion and color, and somewhere inside it, I find the calm. The roar of the engine drowns out the noise in my head. The ache. The doubt. The fear. Time folds in on itself, and then gradually, he eases off the throttle.
We roll to a stop and Callan kills the engine at a stunning lookout point. Neither of us makes a move to dismount. The warmth of his body is too comforting to give up just yet.
The lake below stretches out like a mirror of inky blackness, perfectly still beneath the midnight sky.
The distant mountain peaks are bathed in a silvery glow, their edges tempered by the moonlight.
Autumn wraps itself around the landscape, the crisp air carrying a faint bite that doesn’t stand a chance against Callan’s warmth.
“Where are we?” I whisper as I pull the helmet off. It feels almost wrong to speak louder.
“That’s Loch Tummel we’re looking at,” he replies, his accent sliding over the words with that dangerous charm. “And Schiehallion over there.” He gestures toward the distant hills.
The contrast of the wild rush of the ride fading into this serene quiet hits me like whiplash. My heart is still racing, but now it’s not just from the adrenaline.
“It’s beautiful.” I don’t even think about it. I just lean forward and rest my chin on his shoulder like it’s second nature, and the second I do it, I freeze. What am I doing?
He goes still beneath me, just long enough for me to start pulling back, heart stuttering with the urge to apologize. Then the tension melts from his shoulders as he leans into the contact.
“Aye, it is,” he says quietly. “Thought you might appreciate it. A little bit of that peace you were looking for.”
I do appreciate it. More than I can explain.
Before I can respond, his hand comes to rest on the outside of my thigh, offering a reassuring squeeze.
It’s meant to comfort, but instead, a sharp twinge of pain shoots through me.
My breath hitches, and I wince slightly before I can stop myself.
That’s the leg that took most of the impact yesterday, and the bruise beneath my dress reminds me with every movement that it still hurts like hell.
He notices my reaction and assumes I’m cold. “Sorry, I forgot it’s kind of chilly out here. Let’s get you to Rose’s.”
I nod, choosing not to correct him. It’s easier to let him think it’s the cold, not the pain, that’s bothering me.
I shift slightly, trying to adjust my position and reach around him, but as I do, the sleeve of his jacket catches, pulling it up just enough to expose my wrist. He reaches back at the same time to pull my hands tighter around his waist—his touch stills when his eyes land on my arm. “What the hell is this?”
The blood drains from my face. I’d done such a good job convincing myself that if I could keep it out of sight, I could pretend everything was fine.
But now, Callan’s eyes are locked on the dark purple bruises wrapped around my wrist like some twisted bracelet.
Ugly, splotchy shadows in the unmistakable shape of fingers cover my skin.
He jerks his head to look at me over his shoulder, his expression frozen somewhere between shock and disbelief. His eyes flare with hurt, confusion…fury.
It’s hard to keep up the charade with him looking at me like that. We’re supposed to be lighthearted. Carefree and joking around. I want to go back to that.
Yet, it’s the outrage in his eyes that sticks, and I know it’s not aimed at me. I know that. And when he suddenly swings his leg off the bike and turns to face me, I flinch.
He stops short, and I see the moment he notices. The fire in his eyes fades, giving way to a tenderness that knocks the air from my lungs.
His jaw tenses, and he drags a hand through his hair like he’s trying to get ahold of himself. When he speaks, his voice is lower, gentler. “I would never hurt you.”
He says it like a vow, not a defense mechanism. Then, quieter, “I’m sorry if I scared you.”
I shake my head as I force down the knot rising in my throat. “No, you didn’t,” I whisper. “I’m sorry. I just…” The words scatter before they reach my tongue, too tangled to make sense of.
He takes a careful step closer, his eyes glancing to my wrist. “Can I see?”
I hesitate, my instinct to guard it flaring hot, but his gaze pulls the fight right out of me. I nod once, extending my arm and letting him gently take my hand in his. His touch is featherlight as he pushes the sleeve up, revealing the full extent of the bruising.
His breath catches, his jaw clenches, but his touch remains gentle as his thumb brushes over my skin. “Please tell me who did this.”
My heart hammers against my ribs as I scramble for words, desperately searching for something that won’t betray the truth or shatter the fragile wall I’ve built to protect myself.
“Bree. Talk to me. What happened?”
The sound of my name almost makes me flinch again.
He’s serious now. I don’t think he’s ever called me anything but some playful nickname.
Sunshine, troublemaker, lass. He’s not playing now.
And once you let someone see the cracks, they’ll either expect you to fall apart or try to fix you. Neither sounds like relief.
“It’s not what you think.” Wow, that came out sounding way less convincing than I intended.
“I think someone grabbed you. Hard. And if I was a betting man, I’d say it wasn’t a female.”
I close my eyes, trying to control my breathing, but it’s no use. The cool night air is suffocating, pressing in on me from every direction.
“It was just a misunderstanding. I handled it.”