Page 55 of Over & Out

“I shouldn’t have teased you.” He’s still holding on to me, and in that moment, I don’t want him to ever let go.

I knew they had it all wrong. But in moments like these, I feel it, deep in my chest. When he’s so tender and soft, I wish I could tell the whole world Hopper Donnach has the biggest heart I’ve ever seen. “It’s okay,” I whisper. “I like it.”

Hopper’s eyes shift, and instantly, the warmth in my chest starts spreading in rivulets all over me. I open my mouth, not knowing what I’m going to say, but Hopper drops his hands. Abruptly, as if only now realizing how close we are.

“You know, I could teach you.”

I swallow. “Yeah?”

I can’t meet his eyes. I don’t have the heart to tell him how much I used to love to ride.

Plus I’m still a little jittery from of his closeness. A little wounded by how quickly he jumped away.

“Yeah. You could ride in front, hold the handlebars? You’d be a natural.”

Three months ago I’d have arm wrestled an alligator for the chance to drive one of these. But three months ago I had a shoulder that didn’t randomly scream at me when I reached for a glass of water on my bedside table. I knew what my future held and hadn’t thought about my childhood in years.

Three months ago, I didn’t know Hopper Donnach.

Hopper keeps looking at me, and I know I can’t lie. So instead I deflect.

“Is this a bluff? Do you just have this bike to look cool?”

“Caught me,” he says. But finally he relents. He pulls out a coat and helmet for me, helping me get both on. I try not to shudder as his finger grazes my chin. Try not to smell that cool sage and eucalyptus soap.

When Hopper swings his leg over the seat, I have to fight not to swoon. He looks good on a bike. Natural, like he’s been riding forever. Which, he tells me a minute later through the mics in our helmets, he has. As he wheels the bike to the door, he tells me how the first motorcycle he bought made his mom cry.

“I promised her she wouldn’t lose me on one of these.”

I think of how I told myself almost the same thing when I sold Betty.We can’t end it like that.I told her.Not after everything we’ve been through.I didn’t trust myself not to slip off and try to ride her. To do something even more foolish.

I climb onto the bike and wrap my arms around his waist. He’s hard under me, his thighs like steel at my knees. I don’t bother keeping him at arm’s length. On a bike like this, it would be foolish not to cling to the driver. Plus it feels way too good to hold on to him like this.

“I would have liked to meet your mom,” I say softly, which I instantly regret. Especially since the words make Hopper pause.

I guess that wasn’t very professional.

Neither is getting on the back of your boss’s bike. Or feeling the way you do about it.

But Hopper clears his throat through the mic as he wheels out of the garage. “She would have liked you.”

That’s both relieving and surprising. “Really? Even the way I talk to you?”

“Especially the way you talk to me. She always said her biggest regret was being a pushover with my dad until the day she left him. She admired women who didn’t take shit.”

“You don’t give me shit, Hopper,” I say softly. Words I never would have thought I’d utter around him. But it’s true. It doesn’t matter how much we fight. He respects me. He always has. “You don’t give anyone shit,” I say.

Hopper doesn’t say anything to this. He just expertly angles us out of his driveway. I hope he heard me. I hope he believed me.

He revs the engine as the gate opens. Nerves shoot through me.

“You okay?” Hopper asks through the speaker.

I’m holding on to him like I’m drowning, my hands splayed over his ribs.

“Yeah,” I say, loosening up. “It’s just been a while since I’ve been on a bike.”

“Tell me anytime you want to stop.”

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