Wish You Were Here (Bluebird Basin #3)

Chapter 10 – Davis

CHAPTER TEN

DAVIS

Sweat slid between her shoulder blades, dripping from her nose. It felt good, pedaling up the switchbacks, pushing herself to the limit, demolishing her personal best time. Murphy panted like an old man with asthma behind her, but he kept up. Usually he made it about halfway to the top with her, then chilled in the shade until she came back down. But he was all-in right now.

“I’m not slowing down, Murph,” she called back to him. “Head down if you need to.”

He only barked. Then galloped ahead of her while she rounded another turn.

Smiling into the late afternoon sun, she said, “Fair enough.”

With each pedal stroke, thoughts and plans drifted through her mind. Each option shouldering its way through, only to be elbowed out by some other possibility. I love it here. I should stay. It hurts to be here. I should go. I’m not sure if I want to do research anymore. What the hell else am I going to do? If I left, I could start over. If I left, I could always come back. If I left, I wouldn’t have to see him every day. But if I left, I might never see him again. Why do I want to see him again? It’s over. But what if it’s not over? What if there’s a chance? Because what if I still love him? Fuck. Fuck. “Fuck!” This last one she shouted so loud that if Bluebird had been covered in snow, the echo might have brought down an avalanche.

When she finally reached the top of the mountain, she was out of breath, out of steam, and not a single step closer to knowing what she should do. Leaning her bike against the upper Moonlight lift shed, she took off her helmet, slung the strap over her handlebars, and pulled her water bottle out of its holder. While she squirted water into her mouth, and then into Murphy’s, voices carried up from a trail below her. She couldn’t see them, but she could hear them, running chainsaws and weed eaters, shouting at each other over the racket, laughing.

Without so much as a thank-you for the water, Murphy whipped his head up, turned tail, and took off toward the men.

Davis didn’t necessarily need to follow him. She could have picked another trail to ride down. She could have ridden back down the way she’d come up. She could have done a lot of things. Which was exactly what her mind kept telling her as she climbed back onto her bike, clipped back into her pedals, and pointed her front tire in the direction of the crew.

She rode slowly, quietly, hoping to skirt by the men. Hoping to catch a glance, just a tiny glimpse of him. Because this was what she did now. This was how she survived. She snuck glances, stole time with him. Time he didn’t know he was sharing with her. She knew it was wrong, but she needed it. Craved it. She craved his glowing smiles, his shoulders catching the sunlight, his abs flexing, skin glistening. Her need for him was an itch she could never quite scratch. Between her shoulder blades. Inside her bones. Deep within her beating heart. Impossible to reach.

She skidded to a stop, because there he was. Trimming trees with Brayden and Noah. Lit up by the sun, radiant. He sank to his knees to give Murphy a hug, taking a slobbery lick to the face that, even in her distressed state, managed to tug at a corner of her mouth. After pouring half of his water bottle out for Murphy to lap up, he stood again and took a long sip.

A stream of water slipped over his chin, trickling between his pecs, down the rigid valley of his abs. And then he was smiling, then snorting, then laughing so hard at something Noah said he doubled over, his hands on his knees, his face turning red.

At the sight of it, the sound of it, her smile fell, plummeting boulder-like to the valley floor. Why? Why did he get to laugh like that again? She couldn’t laugh like that anymore. Why did this all seem suddenly so easy for him while she was constantly pedaling uphill? Why was he happy and comfortable when her emotions had her in such an unyielding chokehold she was literally shaking, trembling, a volcano about to blow?

Breathing hard, and not from exertion, she was suddenly fueled by a frustration she couldn’t reason with, driven by an anger she couldn’t control. Animated by months of pain and fear and rage and confusion that refused to be bottled for one more second. Pressure building, steaming out of her ears, every rational thought in her head running for safer ground, she dropped her bike in the dirt and marched out of the trees.

“Hey, D,” Brayden called out once he spotted her.

Kev raised his head, his eyes wide. But in less than a blink, his interest in her vanished, his surprise replaced by the same bland grin and tight nod that had become his default greeting for her these days.

“Hey, B!” she shouted back, faking a too-wide smile.

Nothing. Nothing from Kev at all.

When Brayden asked, “How’s the ride?” and Kev returned to his trimming, clipping away like she wasn’t even there, not even tempted to look at her when she’d been going so far as to hide in the trees like a creepy-ass stalker just so she could steal a single look at him, she fucking lost it. Game over. The end.

Now she understood why they called it seeing red, because there was nothing around her that wasn’t cast in a blaring warning light: the trees, the sky, the alarmed faces of men who recognized the impending devastation of a woman about to completely lose her shit.

Glaring daggers at him, barely capable of controlling her fingers, she fumbled through unclipping her helmet strap.

“Davis?” he asked, backing slowly away from the pyroclastic cloud she’d morphed into.

Finally yanking her helmet off her head, she reeled back, grunted, and hurled it at the trees. Only in her current, deranged state, her aim was shit, and she nearly hit him.

“What the heck?” he cried, jumping back, her helmet landing just shy of his feet. “Jesus, Davis.” He picked up the helmet. “Did you just throw this at me?”

While she stared at him, not up to explaining that, no, she hadn’t thrown it at him, she just had no control of her motor functions at the moment, Noah grabbed Brayden by his shirt collar and said, “Uh, we’re just gonna head back down. Let you two sort this out.”

“Don’t kill each other,” Brayden called out, laughing while Noah pulled him down the trail.

After looking at Davis, then at Kev, Murphy whined, then barked. It was apparently an I’m not hanging around for this mess kind of bark, because he followed behind Noah and Brayden, trotting off until he disappeared behind a cluster of pines.

And then it was only them. Just Kev and her and the trees and the sun and her bike helmet between his hands, hovering in front of his flawless, heaving chest.

“Did you throw this at me?” he asked again, not breaking eye contact.

“No,” Davis stated with fire in her veins. “It was an accident.”

“An accident,” he repeated, his voice calm, almost amused. It was maddening.

“Yes,” she repeated back, shoving one hand on her hip while flicking out a finger with the other, pointing it just off to his left. “I meant to throw it at the tree.”

“Why did you try to throw your helmet at a tree? ”

“I tried to throw it at a tree”—she clenched her jaw so tightly she thought she might end up needing dental work—“because you were laughing .”

“Hmm. I see.” When he started walking toward her, it was like the sun had moved too close to the earth, solar flares looping out in wide arcs, heat lashing her cheeks, her chest. Somewhere, glaciers were melting at alarming rates. His head tilted, studying her, seeing everything. “Is this finally your roar?”

“My what?” she tried to snap but it came out too soft, or maybe it was just muted by the blood rushing in her ears.

“Nothing,” he said, following it up with “So, I’m not allowed to laugh anymore?”

“No.”

He almost laughed again right there and then. She wanted to scream.

“Okay.” He cleared his throat, still moving closer to her. “I’ll stop. I’ll stop laughing.”

Once he was close enough that she could see the tiny beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, his shoulders, his stomach, he offered her helmet back to her.

She took it with a quick swipe.

His brows slid together, all levity slipping from his expression. “Davis, seriously. What’s going on?”

Chucking her helmet to the ground at her own feet this time, she said, “Are you allergic to clothes or something? Why don’t you ever fucking wear a shirt?” She knew how it sounded. She knew how every word coming out of her mouth sounded. Childish, unreasonable, absurd. She’d lost control. She needed to get it back, tear it out from the claws of indignation that had ripped it away from her.

“No, I’m not allergic to clothes.” He looked down at his body. Having no other possible choice, so did she. “See, I’m wearing shorts.”

She did, in fact, see.

“I’m not wearing a shirt because it’s hot.”

“The other men wear shirts,” she said, hauling her gaze back up to some spot a solid inch above his head. “Do you mean to tell me the other men aren’t”—she fought through a dry swallow—“hot?”

She wondered if anyone in the history of the world had ever worked as hard to hide a smile as he was working now. It looked painful. “No, they’re pretty hot too.”

Her nostrils flared.

“Sorry,” he said, reaching for the shirt sticking out of his back pocket. “I’ll put it on.”

There , her brain tried to say. That’s better. But her body disagreed. Because as soon as he snapped the shirt out straight and started to put it on, she yanked it out of his hands and threw it into the trees. Hitting her mark this time.

With his empty hands splayed wide, he stared up at the branch his shirt now dangled from. His expression was so ridiculous, so utterly baffled, that when he said, “You just threw my shirt onto a tree,” she couldn’t hold herself together anymore.

The worry, the pain, the hurt, the endless longing, the bottomless well of missing him. It all came out in a single broken laugh, followed by another, and then another. And then she was gone. Laughing hard. And he was laughing too.

There they were, laughing together just like they used to, when the most ridiculous things were so funny they could barely catch their breaths. While the familiarity of it swirled warmly around her, he moved into her space, reaching out to brush a stray curl out of her eyes. So close. So strong. So perfect. So Kev.

“Why have you been ignoring me?” she asked, breathing it into the small space he’d kept between them.

His brows crowded together. “What do you mean?”

“You never talk to me anymore.” The words poured out of her, cascading in a rush like water from spring snowmelt. “You barely even look at me.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” he asked. “You asked for space. I’ve been trying to give it to you.”

“I don’t want you to ignore me.” She hated how irrational she sounded. Give me space, but not too much. Leave me alone, but still want me. Don’t talk to me, but keep wishing you could. It was unfair. It was pathetic. It was embarrassing.

He took a deep breath. “What do you want me to do?”

Hold me. Kiss me. Never have changed. Never have pulled away. Never have left.

“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “I wish I did. But I don’t.”

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek. A velvety softness, gentling her. His velvety soft voice gentling her too. “I’m glad you didn’t say you wanted me to put my shirt on again. Because that one in the tree is the only one I have up here.”

The tension in her shoulders broke as another laugh huffed out of her, as she leaned into his touch. It felt so good. So right. Even though she knew it was wrong. How was it possible to be both at the same time? The worst idea? The most perfect sensation?

Meeting his stare, she asked, “Why are you so happy?”

The furrow sank more deeply between his brows while he searched her face. “What do you mean?”

It took her a moment to form her thoughts into something coherent. Something he might understand. Because even through her anger and frustration, she wanted him to understand. She wanted to be clear.

“You seem so happy,” she eventually said. “I see you on the trails, in the dining hall, sitting on your porch, hanging out with Madigan and the men. I see you everywhere. And you seem like you’re doing so well. Like you’re a little happier each day. While I’m…” She couldn’t say it. She couldn’t say while I’m more and more miserable, more heartbroken, more alone. “Was it me?” she asked through a body-wide tremble. “Was being with me what made you sad? Am I what made you leave?”

Her throat tightened, burning hotter with each word. But she had to know. He’d been so unhappy with her at the end. Since the night in her car, he’d only grown more and more despondent, withdrawn, dim. No matter how hard she tried to make him smile or laugh, there was no joy left in him. No light. And now he was alive again, vibrant, glowing, happy. Truly happy. If she was the reason, if he was happier without her, it would make the decision for her. She would leave. Because she wasn’t happier without him. She still missed him, still felt the space he used to fill beside her burning like a phantom limb.

Closing her eyes, she asked, “Is your life better without me in it? Because if it is?—”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” He cupped her face with a ferocity that tore a gasp from her lungs, wrenching her eyes open.

Even with all the work he’d been doing this summer, even with the determination in the way he held her, his hands were still so impossibly soft.

“Davis Thompson, you were and still are the best thing that has ever happened to me in my entire fucking life. If I’m happy right now, it’s because I get to see you every day when I thought for a long time I might never see you again. If I’m happy, it’s because I’m doing everything I can to be a better man. Because I’m starting to understand myself a little better. Because I’m refusing to just go through the motions this time or force myself to be perfect. If I’m happy, it’s because I think I’m on a path. One I’m actually excited to follow. One I hope and pray every single night will lead me back to you.” He brushed his thumb over her lower lip, a ghost of a touch that haunted every cell in her body. “I’m also happy because I’ve been on Lexapro for six weeks.”

Her gaze jumped to his. “You have?”

He nodded, moving farther into her space, backing her into the woods until they were hidden in the shade. Her eyes wanted to close again. Her head wanted to tilt. Her lips wanted to part. Her heart wanted to leap out of her chest and into his hands.

“I told you all about it,” he said.

She scoffed weakly. “No, you definitely did not.”

“I did,” he insisted. His fingers curled around the nape of her neck, squeezing gently, melting her muscles. “In my letters. ”

“You didn’t write me any letters.” He was so close now, his lips hovering over hers, just out of reach, a breath away. She could almost feel them, so full, so warm. “I wanted you to. I went to the mailbox every morning. Checked my email ten times a day. I figured you wouldn’t, but I wanted you to.”

“I wrote you a letter every day in rehab,” he told her. “Sometimes two. I just wasn’t sure if you’d want to hear from me, so I didn’t send them. I didn’t want to upset you, Davis. I didn’t want to hurt you.” He rolled his right shoulder, only once. “Any more than I already had.”

Pressure mounted behind her eyes, doubling with every one of his words, his confessions. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

His grip tightened around her neck. Not painful, just real. “Forget?” He shook his head. “I could live a thousand lifetimes, and I would remember you in every single one of them. I’d make it my mission to search for you. I’d never give up until I found you again. And I won’t give up now. Unless you tell me to. But you’ll have to tell me, Davis. Otherwise, I’ll keep coming for you. I won’t stop.”

His breath smelled like mint and his skin smelled like sunshine. She wanted to taste both. “No,” she said, doing everything in her power not to reach for him, to slide her hands over his chest. She shouldn’t say more. She had to say more. “I don’t want you to give up. I don’t want you to stop.”

Intensity flared in his eyes, and in the space of one breath, he dropped his forehead to hers. In the space of another, he tilted her chin, angling her up to him. A third breath, and his lips brushed over hers, barely touching one corner of her mouth, then the other.

Desperate for him, needing him like something essential, something vital like air or water or heat, she parted her lips, searched for his. But then his hand dropped to her low back, and something cold and dark slinked down her spine.

That same hand had dropped from the mattress in that house. While another hand had slithered over his waist, a palm pressing possessively over his stomach, long, slender fingers, chipped red nail polish. A nose nestled into his hair. A body wrapped tightly around his.

What was she thinking? What was she doing? How had she let this happen?

Breaking away, she pushed him back. “Stop.”

He blinked, his eyes unfocused, chest heaving. “Stop?”

A leg hooked over his thigh. Bare breasts pressing into his bare back. “I can’t.”

“Davis? What happened? What?—”

“This was a mistake.” She stumbled back. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Before he could stop her, she ran to her bike, yanked it up from the dirt, and took off down the trail as fast as she could, barely able to see through the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Davis, wait!” she heard him call out behind her. Then she heard his footsteps thundering down the trail. “Wait!”

She couldn’t wait. She couldn’t be near him. As desperately as she wanted to, she couldn’t pretend that they could get through this when he hadn’t just chosen the drugs over her. He’d chosen another woman too. She couldn’t stop seeing it. Couldn’t stop seeing them .

She’d only let go of her handlebars long enough to brush her tears away. But in that split second, her front tire hit a tree root, tucked in, and her bike bucked, launching her over the handlebars.

She screamed, landing hard on her shoulder before rolling to her hands and knees.

“Jesus Christ!” Kev shouted, taking massive bounding steps, leaping over the root to slide onto his knees at her side. “Are you okay?”

Her world spun, her shoulder aching, knees burning. “I’m fine.”

“You aren’t wearing your helmet.”

She’d left it behind. He held it in his hands now.

Setting the helmet on the ground, he looked her over, pushing her hair out of her eyes. “Did you hit your head?”

“I don’t think so.” She looked down at her hands, at the streaks of dirt on her gloves that would have been cuts on her palms if she hadn’t been wearing them. “I’m okay.”

When she tried to stand up, her right knee buckled, pain lancing through her thigh.

“You’re not fine,” Kev said, holding her elbow to steady her. “You’re bleeding.”

Only then did she notice the red stream trickling down her leg. It was a small cut. It would heal.

When he said, “You hurt yourself,” something inside her snapped like a bone breaking in half.

“No,” she cried. And even though her knee burned and her shoulder ached, she yanked her elbow out of his grip and wheeled on him. “No, Kev. I did not hurt myself.”

“Okay,” he said, visibly confused. “But?—”

“ You hurt me,” she said, the tears that hadn’t stopped falling swelling in a fresh wave. “This”—she raised her hands, showing him the dirt on her palms, slashing a hand down across her knee—“is nothing. What you did… You hurt me so much worse.”

He recoiled, like she’d slapped him. “I know I did. I know. And I’ll do whatever it takes?—”

“You don’t know!” She’d said it to him before. She practically screamed it now, wishing she could shove him, slap him, something. Anything. “I loved you, Kev,” she pushed out through a broken sob, knowing this would bruise him more than any shove, hurt him more than any slap. “I was so in love with you. I knew I’d never love anyone as much as I loved you.” Her throat burned, her voice so hoarse it scraped out of her. “And you didn’t care. You broke my fucking heart!”

Despite his utterly stunned silence, she pressed on. Because she couldn’t stop. “You don’t know what I had to see,” she said. “You don’t know what it was like to be in that house. In that room. To see you in that bed with”—her stomach cramped, nausea gripping her as the truth she never wanted him to know poured out of her like blood from a wound—“that woman. ”

“Davis.” His face went white. Not pale, but white . “What are you talking about?”

She couldn’t keep the tears from falling. Just like she couldn’t keep this secret for him anymore. She couldn’t keep hurting herself just to protect him.

“That day,” she said, her voice shuddering. “The day you left. We f-found you.” She shivered, like the temperature had dropped fifty degrees in the space of a few heartbeats. “There were needles on the floor, on the bed. And you were in her arms. Thom’s sister. You were together. You were with her.”

It was like watching a solar eclipse, just as staggering, the way his expression fell, the light dying in his eyes.

“There was a moment, this horrible moment when I thought we’d gotten there too late,” she told him, wanting him to understand how scared she’d been. Needing him to know all the ways that day had changed her. “I thought you were already gone. And then I had to watch Madigan spray that shit into your nose. We waited and waited. And I prayed. I’m not religious, but that day I was. That day I prayed for you to wake up. To be okay. To open your eyes and just be okay.”

He stared at her. Unblinking. Unmoving. She’d never seen him look so terrified, so broken. She would have felt awful about it if she hadn’t been shattering too. No, that wasn’t true. She’d already shattered. She’d been in pieces since it had happened. Now she was just peeling off the tape that had been holding her together, finally letting him see all the cracks he’d left behind.

“You never opened your eyes,” she said. “But you started moving after Madigan gave you a second dose. I was so relieved. I was so happy you were still with me. But when Madigan tried to pick you up and carry you out of that place, she…clung to you.” Bile rose in her throat, forcing her to swallow it back down. “She didn’t want to let you go. And I wondered, does she love him too?”

“You were there?” The words rasped out of him, stone scraping against stone. “Why? ”

Why? “What do you mean?” she said, pushing back, shaking her head at him. “Why wouldn’t I be there?”

“I mean,” he ground out with barely controlled anger, a muscle in his jaw flickering, “why the hell did Madigan bring you to that house?”

“Seriously?” She pulled up to her full height, refusing to let him distract her. “ That’s what you’re upset about? After what I just told you, you’re mad because I was there?”

She wasn’t even sure he’d heard her, but his anger seemed to fade, confusion flooding in to fill the void it left behind. “Why did he think that was okay? It doesn’t make sense.” He swiped a palm across his forehead, like he couldn’t understand it, like it rocked the foundation of everything he’d believed was true. “You should never have seen that.”

Pointing a finger into his chest, she said, “No. I shouldn’t have. Nobody should ever have to see the man they love in another woman’s bed. Nobody should ever have to see the person they love so pale and sick and wonder whether they’re still breathing. Nobody.”

Like someone had snapped their fingers in front of his face, he woke up, emerging from the haze of shock to grasp her hand and flatten it firmly over his heart. “You’re right. Nobody should have to see that. I should never have done that to you. I should never have done any of it. But I promise you, Trisha and I?—”

“Trisha?” Davis asked. She’d wondered for so long. And now those two syllables clicked into place in all the stories she’d told herself since that night. The final missing piece to the worst puzzle she’d ever had to put together. “That’s her name?”

Closing his eyes, he curled his fingers around hers until she could see his fingertips digging into his chest. “Trisha was not in bed with me when I…when I fell asleep. I was alone. She must have crawled in after.”

“After you left,” she said. “After you left me.”

His chin sank toward his chest, his head turning back and forth. “I don’t know how to do this,” he said, muttering it to himself. “I don’t know how to make you understand.” When he looked up again, determination blazed in his eyes. “I did leave you. But I left for the drugs. I left because something is wrong with me. Not for someone else. Never for someone else.”

“But I saw you with her when she was here visiting Thom. You were standing so close. She had her hand around your neck. It was intimate, Kev. When you hadn’t been intimate like that with me in so—” Her throat spasmed, cutting her off.

“ Fuck , Davis.” While he scrubbed his hand over his face, she watched the realization of everything she’d seen, everything she knew, crash over him.

It was too much. Too heavy. What if the weight of it all derailed him? What if her honesty made him leave again? What if it made him use again? Despite his insistence that there was something wrong with him, what if she was actually the unhealthy thing in his life? What if she was holding him back? What if all she’d ever do with him was constantly walk on eggshells, wondering if any truth or real emotion she showed him would only send him back to that mattress with a needle in his arm?

That was why she hadn’t been able to make him come back to her when he’d started distancing himself. That was why she hadn’t been able to take care of herself and let him go. She’d been too scared then. Too scared of saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, being the reason he relapsed.

She was still too scared.

“We weren’t intimate,” he explained, his bloodshot eyes pleading with her to listen, to believe him. “I can see how it might have looked that way, but there was nothing close or warm or romantic about that moment. She was offering me drugs. And I was fucking dying inside because I knew I wasn’t going to be able to say no. I knew it was over. It was one of the lowest points of my life.”

“You really weren’t with her?” She wanted to believe him. She wanted it so badly. “You really didn’t…sleep with her?”

“Trisha and I were together years ago. But I swear on my goddamned life, there is nothing between us now. I swear I was alone when I used. I fucked up. I know I did. And I hate that you saw me like that. I hate that I scared you. I’ll never get over it. But I was not with another woman. Please believe me. Please, Davis. You are the only woman I want. You’re the only woman I will ever want.”

She waited for it, for the relief, for the cracks in her heart to stitch themselves back together, for the scars to start healing. But there was nothing. Nothing but a sweeping, bone-deep sorrow.

“I believe you,” she said, because she knew he was telling the truth. But in that moment, she also knew it didn’t matter. Maybe he hadn’t left because he’d wanted another woman. But he had left because of her, because she hadn’t known how to help him stay.

“Please tell me we can try again,” he said, raising her hand to his lips, brushing her knuckles over his cheek. “I’ll do anything. Can we try? Can you give me a chance? I’m really working?—”

“I can’t.” The words sliced through her.

He pressed his thumb into her palm, the pressure its own kind of plea. “Why?”

Because I’m not good for you. Because I didn’t support you when you needed it the most. Because I couldn’t leave you when you’d started leaving me. Because I’m selfish and greedy and so ashamed I can barely look at myself in the mirror. Because I can’t be around you without wanting you. Because I love you so much I can’t breathe. “Because I’m leaving.”

“What? You’re?—”

“I’m probably leaving,” she amended while his hand dropped to his side, taking hers with it. But not letting go.

“Where? Where are you going?”

“Back to Missoula. My professor got new funding. I think… I’m pretty sure I’m going to finish my master’s.” Her resolve, what little she had of it in the face of his crushed expression, faltered. “I’m almost positive.”

Time slowed, each second stretching out like the shadows surrounding them in the fading sunlight. Silently, they breathed the same air, filling their lungs with earth and pine. And she could see the instant it all caught up with him, his jaw unclenching, his shoulders sinking. Acceptance settling into him. Because deep down, he must have known it was for the best too.

He deserved a clear, uncomplicated chance at recovery. He deserved time to focus on himself. He deserved a partner who knew how to support him. Who knew what to do and say and didn’t shout things like fuck the rules! when he’d known he needed them, and she’d needed him too much to care.

He loosened his grip on her, and she pulled her hand free.

“How long?” he asked. “How long do I have?” He shook his head. “I mean, how long until you leave?”

“A month.”

Grinding the heel of his palm into his chest, he said, “Okay.” Then he backed away. One step. Two. “That’s… It’s great.” He tried to smile, but there was too much pain behind it. “You deserve great things, Davis. You deserve everything.”

She couldn’t hold herself together much longer. She had to go. She had to get away.

“Thanks,” she choked out, fighting back the river of tears trying to leave its banks. “I should probably finish my ride.”

“Wait. What about your knee?” It was a straw grasp. They both knew it.

“Don’t worry,” she told him, picking up her helmet. “It doesn’t hurt.”

Silently, even while all the things left unsaid between them howled between her ears, he watched her walk back to her bike.

Not letting herself wince at the sharp sting in her knee when she stepped over the frame, she turned to him one last time, and with a steadiness she didn’t possess, she said, “Goodbye, Kev.”

And then she rode away from him, letting gravity pull her down the mountain, faster and faster until the wind turned the tears streaming down her cheeks to salt.