Page 108 of Fly Back to Me
I sink my nails into the pelt of his coat, promising myself I’ll pay for the damages later. Then the metal of his ring rubs against my skin, the rippled wings pumping like a ventilator connected to my lungs.
I’m safe.
When I lift my head, Cade swivels to unlatch the helmet strap from my chin. My hands find his upper arms, clinging onto him as he glides the gear off.
Then his bare palm snakes around my cheek. “Ipromiseyou that you’re safe, Olivia.” The cool ridges of the ring brush my skin, his gaze plunging into me.
I nod, gulping when his eyes lift to the top of my head to adjust some of my whisked locks. The quake settles, his attentive touch gracing me with solace.
Knowing I have to get off the motorcycle first, I hook one hand around his arm with the other stationed on the seat. I shakily swing my leg over, Cade quickly following suit after.
He positions us so my back is leaning against the bike, his arms caging me on either side. “If it’s too much for you at any time, just tell me and we’ll head back. Okay?”
“Okay,” I whisper.
He withdraws a step, grabbing my hand to alter our positions. My back fuses to his rigid chest, his large arms wrapping around me like a blanket before my hands clutch hisforearms. He’s transforming himself into a makeshift shield, and my fear gradually fades.
His legs steer us from behind as we walk along the sidewalk. “I’m not much of a ‘flowers guy.’ I find them to be a contrived and overrated gift. Sorry in advance if that’s a deal breaker.”
I swallow thickly, steadying my focus on the few stray people strolling past us. “Of course you would.”
Haven’t lost my quick wit apparently.
“Butapparently, different flowers have different meanings. Did you know this?” Cade asks, his scruff grazing my temple as he slopes his chin down. “I didn’t know this,” he whispers.
Maybe it’s the tickle of his breath, or the way he cracks a joke, but a tiny smile settles on my lips. “Maybe. I’m not much of a horticulturist though,” I joke.
Our shoes pad along the concrete, my stomach shriveling when I recognizethatlarge brick building in the distance.
Tell him you want to leave.
“Ever hear of the Black-Eyed Susan?”
I release a breath, relief hugging my lungs when his deep tenor graces my ear. Then I wag my head, palms pressing into the leather around his forearms. “No.”
“It’s not a rare or exotic flower. It has a dark center with yellow petals that look like the shape of a daisy. You’ve probably seen it before.”
“Oh, yes,” I breathe. “I know exactly what you’re talking about.”
He chuckles softly as we step along the sidewalk, my heartbeat drumming in my ears just as brash as it did that night.
“We can turn around if you want.”
I shake my head, the echo of his voice grounding me. “Just keep talking.”
Our legs idle at the corner, waiting for the pedestrian light to tread the crosswalk. “Well, the meaning of the Black-Eyed Susanhad me thinking of planting it where we first met.”
My eyes numbly trail the couple of cars that turn in front of us, a few light honks from the village street ringing through the air.
Where we first met.
I inhale, his woody scent loosening my tension, and I’m reminded that I don’t need to know what he has planned.
Our souls were hand-crafted. Personalized to understand and push each other. He knows my limits but will gladly break them if those boundaries prevent me from flying.
And when I really think about it, there’s no better time to soar than when I’m wrapped up in his wings.
Our legs pause. Between the midst of my thoughts and spiking nerves, we’ve made it in front of the alleyway.
