Another older woman I didn’t recognize offered her two cents regarding Bonnie’s marriage, but I’d heard enough.
“Hey, Bonnie,” I interrupted from several feet away.
Her attention snapped to me, eyes wide and stricken.
The nosy women in the semicircle around Bonnie turned toward me, but I didn’t pay them any mind.
I kept my gaze on her. “Can you help me with that thing we talked about the other day?”
The startled expression she wore abruptly shifted as she processed my words. “Oh, right. Of course. That thing.”
Then I held out my hand and she clutched it like a lifeline. I threaded our fingers together and pulled her toward me, moving us in the direction of the exit as one.
When we reached the double doors leading to the dim interior of the library, I slowed and asked quietly, “What do you need?”
Her breaths were coming fast, and I could see the urgency behind her eyes. “Air,” she begged.
In my reckless adolescence, I’d been impulsive, rarely questioning myself or the decisions I made. Now, as an adult and business owner, I was more circumspect and responsible.
But in that moment, with Bonnie’s hand squeezing the life out of mine and her request still ringing in my ears, shaky and unsteady, I didn’t need to think twice. All I wanted to give her was what she needed.
So I led her to the parking lot, slid her arms into my leather jacket, and zipped it all the way up. Then I popped my helmet on her head and opened the visor.
“Your helmet,” she protested, voice muffled.
I shook my head. “I’ll be fine. We won’t go far.
“Put your feet here or here.” I indicated where she should position herself and helped her climb on behind me.
She sat stiffly, trying to keep distance between us.
“You’ll need to hold on,” I called over my shoulder.
Slowly, carefully, her hands settled lightly on my sides before sliding around my waist, her arms hugging me from behind. It took a moment, but I felt a deep exhale leave her as all her tense muscles finally relaxed against me.
I released a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding, refusing to let myself think about how good she felt behind me.
With a gentle pat to the backs of her hands, I let her know we were ready.
Then we were off, the autumn air cold and welcome against my cheeks.
I was careful, driving slower than I would on my own. It was dark, and while I doubted I would get pulled over, I’d take the ticket for driving without a helmet. She needed it more than I did.
And I couldn’t stand another minute in that room with Bonnie slowly unraveling.
If she needed air, I’d give her wings.
Bonnie’s warm body pressed snuggly to mine. Tense thighs bracketing my own. Her fluttering heartbeat, a hummingbird’s wing against my back.
“You okay?” I called over the rush of air as I turned on to the highway.
Her answering squeeze to my midsection had me nudging the throttle.
The overlook wasn’t far, but there wasn’t much to see in the dark. Thankfully, that meant there wouldn’t be any tourists around.
I parked the bike near the grassy rest area where picnic tables were scattered along the edge of the overlook platform.
I felt Bonnie shift to stand and lent a hand to keep her steady as she climbed off the bike. Then I joined her.
