Page 142 of Fire Island
Sheroarsto life.
Em pumps his fist in the air like a compete dolt. I can’t wipe the fucking smile from my face. I twist the throttle on the right handle, and the loud, heavy sound echoes over the marina.
Happiness weaves its warmth through my chest.
Now there’s only one piece of this puzzle missing. And her bus is about to roll in. I shift the Indian into gear and give the gas hell. Like a shot in the dark, we leave Em behind, flying over the old dock boards past boats in their slips. I take a left up the ramp by the watchhouse and stick it to her, hoping like hell Errol is mid-nap at the damn desk like usual.
I chuckle and turn onto the street.
With a not-so-subtle rev, I pass the café and wave at Irry. She looks up, her mouth agape as I ride by. Reaching Main Street, I open her up.
Here’s hoping I make the bus station before Evie does.
The New York line is late.
And I couldn’t be happier.
I sit on the parked Indian, one leg bent on the seat, helmet in my hands outside the terminal doors. God, it’s been decades since I waited on a girl, perched on this small leather seat.
I study the ground, thinking of all the ways this thing could have turned out and counting my lucky stars they turned out the way they did. A slow whoosh has my head snap up. People wander through the doors in a messy, crowded formation.
No Evie.
I shift on the seat, running the edge of the helmet through my fingers. When the doors close and she hasn’t appeared, I hold my breath. The finest sliver of panic tangles with my senses.
The doors whoosh open again.
She pads toward me. “I thought that looked like my grumpy recluse.”
Christ, baby girl, you damn well scared me.
I push from the bike and drop the helmet to the ground as she flies into my arms, legs wrapping around my waist. Her belongings forgotten to the ground, she dots strings of kisses over my face.
Thisis where she goddamn belongs.
“Hell, mo ghràdh, I missed you.”
Evie leans back, her hands cupping my face. “And I you, fear milis.”
Lord above.
“You rode the Indian,” she breathes.
“And you’re about to.”
She worries her bottom lip through her teeth. “I’ve never been on a motorbike before, Cal. I mean, while it’s moving.”
I smile at her. “That changes today.”
“What about my bag?”
“We can leave it behind the counter and come back for it later.”
I wave to the guy at the front desk, and he slips out, taking her bag back behind the counter like he agreed to when I asked earlier.
“Later? Where are we going?”
I lower her to her feet and hop on the bike, firing her up. “Anywhere you want.” Clasping my helmet on securely, I hand Evie hers. She pulls it on and snaps the buckle closed. Stepping closer, she throws one leg over and slides forward, wrapping herarms around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Take me anywhere, sweet man.”
