Page 29 of Friar
As we leaned into a curve, Friar’s hand briefly covered mine where it rested against his stomach.A fleeting touch, gone almost before I registered it, but unmistakable in its meaning.
I was safe.I was with him.And somehow, against all odds and expectations, that was exactly where I wanted to be.
The motorcycle slowed, downshifting with a throaty rumble as Friar guided it off the main road and onto a narrower path I hadn’t noticed in the darkness.Gravel crunched beneath the tires as we climbed higher, the trees opening up on one side to reveal glimpses of the sleeping city below.He brought the bike to a stop at what appeared to be some kind of lookout point, cutting the engine and letting silence rush in to fill the void.
“We’re here,” he said, his voice sounding louder now without the bike’s growl to compete with.He swung his leg over and offered me his hand.
My legs felt strangely rubbery as I dismounted, the phantom vibration of the engine still humming through my body.Friar’s hand remained in mine a moment longer than necessary, his callused palm warm against my skin.When he pulled away to remove his helmet, I felt the absence of his touch like a physical thing.
“Where are we?”I asked, working the strap of my own helmet loose.The air up here was cooler, crisper, carrying the clean scent of pine and night-blooming flowers.
“Local secret,” Friar said, taking my helmet and hanging both on the handlebars.“Club found it years ago.Used to come up here to…” He paused, glancing at me.“Well, to do things we shouldn’t have been doing.But now we just use it for thinking.Getting perspective.”
He gestured toward the edge of the clearing, and I followed his lead, picking my way carefully over the uneven ground.The overlook had obviously been created or at least expanded by human hands -- a flattened semicircle of packed earth and small stones, bordered by a low barrier of boulders that served as a natural fence.Beyond that, the hillside dropped away sharply, opening up to a spectacular view.
The city sprawled below us like a living constellation, a tapestry of lights against the dark canvas of night.“It’s beautiful.I had no idea you could see the whole town from up here.”
“Most people don’t,” Friar said, moving to stand beside me.His shoulder brushed against mine, the leather of his cut cool against my arm.“That’s what makes it special.”
Above us, stars speckled the sky, somehow brighter and more numerous than they had any right to be this close to town.The moon hung low on the horizon, a waning crescent that cast just enough light to silver-edge the trees around us.
We stood in silence for several minutes, shoulders touching.There was something intimate about it -- sharing this view, this moment, away from the complications that waited for us back in town.No club politics, no whispers about my pregnancy, no questions about paternity or futures.Just us, the night, and a city of lights too distant to intrude.
“You ever wonder what your life would be like if you’d made different choices?”Friar asked suddenly, his voice lower than before, rougher around the edges.
I glanced at him, catching his profile against the backdrop of stars.His expression was thoughtful, his gaze fixed on some point in the middle distance.
“All the time,” I admitted.“Especially lately.If I hadn’t gone to that party.If I’d stayed the good church girl.But then I think… maybe this was always my path.Maybe I was never meant to be what they wanted me to be.”
Friar nodded slowly, his jaw working as if he was chewing over words, testing their flavor before releasing them.“I’ve been thinking about choices too.The one I made when I claimed you.”He turned to face me fully, his eyes catching the faint starlight.“It wasn’t just about the baby.You should know that.”
My heart stuttered in my chest, a sudden rush of blood in my ears nearly drowning out his next words.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone before,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, as if sharing a secret he wasn’t sure he should reveal.“Not even close.And I know this situation isn’t ideal.I know there’s complications, history.The baby might not even be mine.”His hand came up, hovering near my face before dropping back to his side.“But I want you to know I’m all in -- for you and the baby.”
Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, hot and unexpected.I blinked rapidly, trying to clear my vision, needing to see his face clearly.
“Friar…” The word came out more breath than sound.
“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly.“I know it’s a lot.And fast.I just… needed you to know it wasn’t just about responsibility or doing the right thing.It’s about you.Us.”
I searched his face in the dim light, looking for any sign of hesitation or doubt.There was none.Just that steady, certain gaze that had been my anchor since the day I’d shown up at the clubhouse.
“I feel it too,” I whispered, the confession slipping out before I could second-guess it.“I try not to.I keep thinking it’s too complicated, that I’m just grateful or confused or… hormonal.”I gave a shaky laugh, one hand moving to my stomach.“But it’s more than that.It scares me how much more.There’s also this part of me that really hopes when we do a paternity test that you’re the biological father of the baby.I still don’t remember everything from that night.”
He audibly swallowed.“I’m hoping for the same.I spoke with both Nugget and Nigel, more than once.Nugget was not only drunk but high.He remembers playing pool with you and flirting, but that’s it.Nigel swears he only danced with you.I’m only hesitant to believe him because he looked so damn scared when I talked to him.”
“Any chance he felt that way because he was worried you’d be upset?”I asked.
He shrugged.“Maybe.”
“I hope it’s true, that I didn’t actually do anything more with either of them.”
Friar’s expression softened, relief and something warmer, deeper, spreading across his features.He stepped closer, closing the already small distance between us.His hand came up again, this time following through to cup my cheek.His palm was warm against my skin, slightly rough with calluses from years of working on engines.
“Can I?”he asked, his voice barely audible even in the quiet night.
I nodded, unable to form words around the emotion lodged in my throat.
