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“Never thought I’d fly,” I shout into the slipstream, my words snatched away by the night.
“Life’s full of surprises,” he calls back, the hint of a laugh in his tone.
My heart dances a staccato rhythm, punctuated by the engine’s growl. With each mile we put between us and the bar, the heavy cloak of fear that had smothered me begins to unravel, thread by thread.
Then, as suddenly as our escape began, Texas downshifts, the bike easing off its ferocious pace. We glide now, slower, under the skeletal arms of leafless trees reaching up to a velvet sky. The moon is a half-closed eye, watching us in silent vigil as we approach an old, covered bridge.
Texas rolls the bike to a stop at the mouth of the bridge, the engine puttering to silence. A quiet so profound envelopes us that I can hear the river beneath us.
“Take a breath, Jane,” he says softly, dismounting. His boots crunch on gravel. “You’re safe.”
I swing my leg over, my movements stiff, unsteady after the mad dash through darkness. The ground feels alien, too still beneath my feet.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” I find myself saying more to the night than to Texas as I stare at the bridge.
“Yep.” He leans against the bike, arms folded across his chest, his gaze following mine. “Old places have a way of holding peace. They’ve seen enough to know when to offer sanctuary.”
“Sanctuary...” It’s what I’ve craved, what I’ve been denied—until this strange, unexpected savior turned up on two wheels. “Thank you.” The gratitude swelling in my throat, thick and potent. “For everything.”
“Nothing to thank me for.” There’s a shadow of a smile on his face, barely visible in the moonlight. “Just doing what’s right. I couldn’t stand by and let anything happen to you.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Let’s not stay here all night, though.” His voice playful now. “Got a feeling you could use some real rest.”
I nod, unable to summon words.
The bridge’s wood creaks beneath us, a whispering testament to the years it has weathered. We are alone here, under the cover of darkness.
I wrap my arms around myself, suddenly feeling exposed. “But you did more than stand by. You acted. No one’s ever... not for me.” It’s a confession, each word heavy with the truth of my past.
“Guess we’re both full of surprises.” The corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile that does funny things to my heartbeat.
In the silence that settles between us, I sense his gaze lingering on me.
“Who are you, Texas Blackwood?” I ask.
“Ah, darlin’,” he replies, his voice a low rumble, “that’s a story full of potholes and dead ends.” He pushes off the railing, closing the distance between us with a few deliberate steps. “Let’s just say I’ve had my share of rough roads.”
“Sounds like we’ve got that in common,” I murmur, and the spark of attraction that’s been simmering beneath my skin flares to life at his nearness.
“Seems like it,” he agrees, the moonlight casting a silver glow over his features.
We stand there, and I realize with Texas, the weight of my own secrets feels lighter. As he reaches out, brushing a lock of hair behind my ear with a touch gentle enough to be a breeze, I know I want to dive into the stories etched in the lines of his face, to explore the shadows in his eyes.
“Come on,” he says, breaking the spell as he heads back to his motorcycle. “I’ll take you home.”
And as I follow him, climbing onto the bike behind him, I cling to the promise of sanctuary and the thrill of the unknown. With Texas, I might just find both.
* * *
The roar of the engine vibrates through me, a lullaby wrapped in leather and steel. Texas’s bike eats up the miles between the bridge and my place. I cling to him, the warmth of his back seeping into my chest, fighting off the chill of the night.
“Almost there, darlin’,” he calls over the rumble, his voice a steady drumbeat against the wind.
“Thanks, Tex,” I shout back, my words snatching at the air.
I’m grateful for the ride, but a part of me wishes the journey could stretch on forever, away from the dive bar and closer to something that feels like freedom. We pull up to my modest home and he kills the engine.
“Allow me.” Texas offers his hand to help me dismount. His touch is gentle, yet firm, and I can’t help but notice the contrast with his rugged appearance.
“Thank you.” I’m so tried my eyelids feel heavy.
