Total pages in book: 144
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 134830 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 674(@200wpm)___ 539(@250wpm)___ 449(@300wpm)
Kayla leans toward Dani, like she’s telling her a secret even though I can hear her every word. “Kyle needs someone who’ll burn his ego to the ground but take care of the gentle soul underneath. I think that could be you.”
She doesn’t wait for my reaction or Dani’s, turning around and going back to the dining room where my brothers are talking shit about me loud enough for me to hear.
What was he thinking?
Seriously, he thought Mom would…
At that, I do pull Dani outside and climb on my bike, pushing the helmet her way. She puts it on herself this time because I’m too riled up to be gentle, and then she climbs on behind me.
We roar out of the drive, leaving my family behind along with any mental clarity I might possess. My brain is loud with static, and the only thing that’ll shut it up is speed.
So we ride headfirst into the night, going faster… faster… and faster.
Dani said she’d go to hell with me. Well, I think I took her directly there, without passing go or collecting $200. Straight to hell.
CHAPTER 25
DANI
Darkness surrounds us as we fly over winding country streets with nothing more than the headlight illuminating our way. Lights come into view as Kyle hits the highway, speeding faster and faster.
I don’t know how long we ride for, hours for sure, and probably close to two tanks of gas because Kyle stops once to silently refuel. In the harsh, artificial whiteness of the gas station lights, I can see the streaky trails of tears on his face that have nothing to do with the wind making his eyes water behind his sunglasses. So when he pulls away again, I keep my arms wrapped around him and hold on, feeling the war raging inside him and wishing there were something I could do to help him.
He said earlier that a ride helps him clear his head, so maybe this is exactly what I can do… just be with him while he processes the bomb he detonated tonight. I don’t think he went in planning to have that conversation, but it’s understandably been weighing heavily on his mind, and at the slightest trigger, he went off. It was hard for me to watch, and I imagine even worse for Kyle to go through, so if this what he needs right now, we can ride forever as far as I’m concerned.
It kinda feels like we do because it’s late… or well, early in the morning, when he eventually turns into my driveway. I climb off, removing my helmet, but he doesn’t shut the bike off. “Come inside.”
His jaw set, he shakes his head. If I had a lick of sense, I’d leave him be. But nobody’s ever called me smart, so I shut Lucille off myself, taking his key. “It wasn’t a question. Come. Inside.”
His sigh is heavy with the weight of the world, but he cooperates, setting the kickstand and climbing from the bike to follow me to the front door with his head hanging low. Inside, I take his hand, pulling him to the bedroom, and start undressing him. He lets me take his shirt off, but when I reach for his belt, his stomach tightens and he puts his hand on mine, stopping me. “Dani—”
“Let’s take a shower. Wash it all away,” I tell him.
He relents, his hand going lax, and I undo his belt, button, and then zipper. He toes his boots off and pushes his jeans and underwear down his legs, stepping out of them and his socks while I undress myself. Naked, I lead him to the bathroom, where he stands with his eyes on the floor while I turn the water to lava-level heat. I think that’s what it’s going to take to bring him back to life.
Once it’s warm, I guide him to step in, and he instantly stands beneath the spray, putting his hands on the wall to let the water pelt over his head. I get in behind him and plaster myself to his back, wrapping my arms around him. I can feel the thud of his heart pounding against my palm and I pray that my presence is enough because there’s nothing else I can do but let him absorb my support and strength through our skin.
He’s quiet for a long time, though I feel the occasional hitch of his breathing like he’s crying again. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay,” I whisper over and over, mostly because I don’t know what else to say.
“It made sense,” he mutters some time later. “Right? I’m not crazy for thinking it made sense, am I?”
“No, you’re not crazy. You’ve been hurt and you’re trying to understand why the people who are supposed to love you unconditionally haven’t,” I assure him. “Or haven’t shown you they do, at least.”