Page 36 of My Veteran Biker

"I know."

"I'm going to sit in my house or your house or somewhere and imagine every possible way you could die."

"I know."

"And if you do come back, I'm going to be angry at you for making me go through that."

"That's fair."

She turns to look at me. "I love you. And I hate that loving you means living with this."

"I love you too. And I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry. Just come home."

We get out of the truck and she follows me to my house instead of going to hers. We don't talk about it, don't discuss whether she's staying. She just comes inside and takes off her shoes and gets into my bed wearing my t-shirt and nothing else.

I join her there and pull her against me, feeling her body warm and solid in my arms.

"Three days," she says into the darkness.

"Three days."

"Then it's over?"

"Then it's over."

She rolls over to face me. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise."

"Promise me you'll come home."

"I can't promise that. But I want to. More than I've wanted anything in years."

She kisses me. Soft, lingering, like she's trying to memorize the taste of me.

We fall asleep tangled together and for the first time in weeks I don't dream about Perry dying alone in a parking lot.

I dream about coming home to someone who's waiting.

Chapter 7 — Francis

I wake up on Sunday to Knox already awake beside me, his hand tracing lazy patterns on my hip under the sheet.

The room is bright, sun coming through curtains he probably hasn't washed in years.

My mouth tastes like morning and my body aches in places that remind me exactly what we did yesterday.

"What time is it?" I ask.

"Almost nine."

We slept twelve hours. I can't remember the last time I slept that long without waking up multiple times to check my phone or use the bathroom or stare at the ceiling worrying about things I can't control.

Knox's hand slides up my side to cup my breast, thumb brushing my nipple. I feel my body respond immediately, heat pooling low in my stomach.

"Again?" I ask.