Page 134 of Revv

He smirks and reaches into his pocket and tosses me another key.

I catch it.

“Ducati Streetfighter V4 S. Mine.”

I look down at the key, then back at him. “You’re serious?”

“Yeah. Don’t make me look stupid for it, Speed Demon.”

A slow grin pulls at my mouth. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He jerks his chin toward the back of the shop. “There’s a rack of helmets by the rear door. Grab two that fit. Bike’s parked around the side.”

“Well, fuck. Appreciate it, man.”

I turn the Ducati key over once in my hand, already feeling significantly better about being stuck here three more days.

By the time I make it back over to Cece, she’s ending the call with her mom.

Her phone buzzes again, and she looks down at the screen with a groan.

“Group chat?”

“Unfortunately.” She scans whatever they’ve sent, mutters, “Ay, qué fastidio,” and locks the phone before shoving it into her bag.

For about three seconds, she looks calmer.

Then her eyes go back to the Civic.

I watch her shoulders tighten again.

She’s already ten steps ahead in her head, probably thinking about work, Guac, the car, the hotel, the fact that we’re supposed to be halfway back to Tampa instead of standing in a mechanic shop with no fucking clue where we’re sleeping tonight.

I step in front of her before she can disappear any farther into her own head.

“Mama.”

She looks up at me, jaw tight, phone still clutched in her hand.

“I’ve got it.”

Her brows pull together. “Revel—”

“No.” My hand comes up and closes firmly around her chin, tipping her face up until she has no choice but to look at me. “The car, the hotel, getting us around—all of it. I’ll handle it.”

For once, there’s no grin, no joke sitting behind the words.

I hold her gaze so she knows I mean every fucking one of them.

Her eyes search mine, and I can practically see her trying to come up with a reason she should keep worrying anyway.

I rub my thumbs over her cheeks. “Stop stressing yourself out over shit you can’t control. Your car’s getting fixed, Guac’s taken care of, and nothing’s falling apart.”

She exhales slowly. “I hate not knowing what the plan is.”

“I know.”

“And you having the plan somehow isn’t as comforting as you think.”