It all begins with a text.A simple text around breakfast, detailing the first stage of my plan without actually giving her a way to refuse. I just told her what we were doing today, a time to be ready by, and then I went out to make sure I had everything I needed to pull it off.
Six hours later, I guide my bike back into the parking lot where it waited for me last night. My saddlebags are full of snacks and four bottles of water. I tucked a small plastic blanket in there, too. I’m wearing an over-the-should bag that’s strapped to my back. Inside of it, I have a pretty white helmet that should fit Annaliese.
She’s waiting outside, just like I told her to be. Because I gave her the head’s up that I wanted to take her out for a motorcycle ride, she’s dressed for it: a long-sleeved blouse, a pair of jeans, white sneakers. Her hair is pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a hesitant expression.
“You really want to do this?” she asks.
“Take you for a ride on my bike.” I give the chrome handlebar a loving stroke. “I’ve been dying to. I figured I’d give you some time to warm up to me, but if you want to get to know the real Sebastien, you have to understand he comes with Betsy.”
She lifts her eyebrows. “Betsy?”
I nod. “Yup. Betsy.”
“You named your motorcycle?”
“Of course I did. After all, I built her myself, piece by piece. When you’re that intimate with a piece of machinery, you’ve gotta give her a name.” I wink at my wife. “Before you, she was my favorite girl.”
I live for the twin pink spots I can bring to Annaliese’s cheeks. “And you’re sure it’s safe for the both of us to ride at the same time?”
Patting the back of my seat, I say, “Why don’t you hop on and find out? Just make sure you hold me real tight, love. Trust me. I’ll keep you safe.” I shrug off the bag on my back. “Here. I even thought ahead and got you your own helmet.”
Taking the helmet out, I hold it out to her. She takes it, looking at it as if she’s afraid it’s going to bite her.
I grin. “What’s the matter? Afraid?”
“Motorcycle death make up fifteen percent of all fatalities,” she says primly. “I’d be silly not to be concerned.”
“Yeah, but none of them were on bikes built by Bas Reynolds,” I boast. “Don’t you trust me?”
She thins her lips. For a second, I expect her to scoff and say ‘no’. It wouldn’t be a surprise. Barely anyone in Harmony Heights trusts me. Why would she?—
Annaliese slams the helmet down on her head. “I do. Just don’t kill me, alright?”
Pulling my visor down so that she can’t see the pride on my own face to hear her say that, I scoot forward, leaving enough space for her to climb onto the back of my bike. “Oh, love. I wouldn’t dream of it.”
Just like hoped,Annaliese clings to me the entire time we take the ride out of Harmony Heights, up the nearby mountains. Her arms are wrapped tightly around my waist, chest pressed to my back, thighs bracketing mine as though she was made to be on this motorcycle with me.
I nearly groan every time she squeezes me infinitely tighter whenever I take a turn.
I’ve gone this way so many times over the years, I could take the path with my eyes closed. Anytime I need to escape the pressures of the Order, this is where I flee to. The Reynolds family has a mountain cabin a couple of miles from here that no one but me uses anymore. One day, when I was about sixteen and pissed off about something so stupid, I don’t even remember it anymore, I found a waterfall overlook so beautiful, even a boneheaded teenager could appreciate it.
I’ve never brought anyone here before. Before Annaliese, I only had two long-term relationships. I dated Caroline Wilson for most of high school, but she wasn’t an Order girl—not an Offering, and she refused to join as one of the Used—so I knew that we could never last. Not when I had Reynolds for my last name. A low-ranking member could marry whoever the hell they wanted, but when you’re at the top of the secret society, it’s an Offering if you want to climb up in the ranks.
I didn’t give a shit about any of that. I was also only seventeen, and because I knew it couldn’t last, I cheated on her with her best friend, Stephanie. And after Stephanie, it was Grace, then Monique, then Allie…
By then, I figured that it wasn’t that I wouldn’t take any Offering as a wife, but that I had no plan to get hitched at all.Who wanted to enter a serious relationship with a guy who made it clear there was no commitment in the future? That began a decade of no strings attached relationships, flings, one-night stands, and a tendency to visit the Used in between that.
Except for Julie.
I thought Julie was different. For the first time ever, I thoughtmaybe, but in the end, she was the one stringing me along. She might’ve been the only one I would’ve brought up to the waterfall, but she absolutely refused to ever ride with me.
Annaliese climbed on my back barely a month into our marriage—and she really thinks I’m going to let her go?
She doesn’t complain at all during the right. However, by the time we reach the waterfall overlook, she’s shaking. Once I stop the bike, she slides off the bike on wobbly legs.
“Give yourself a second,” I tell her, reaching out so that I can steady her with my hand on her hip. “Your legs need to catch up.”
Standing still, she removes her helmet, letting it hang at her side as she glares at me. “You think this is funny?”
