Page 14 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

The growl of my bike filled my head as I leaned into a sharp bend. The tires gripped the asphalt like my life depended on it—which it technically did. I opened the throttle, pushing the machine harder, faster, until the world blurred around me. The wind tore at my jacket, the roar of the engine deafening, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the memories.

The old highway was usually empty. That was just how I preferred it. I liked being alone with my thoughts. I was surprised by how hard Gary’s death was hitting me. It wasn’t like I didn’t know the man was dying. When he went into the nursing home, I knew his days were numbered.

Every time I visited him, his mind had slipped a little more. He stopped recognizing me. I realized visiting him was for me, not for him. It was my way of accepting what was happening to a man I respected. It was a healthy dose of reality knowing I would be meeting the same fate someday.

I twisted my hand, increasing my speed on the straight stretch of road.

The smell of the chapel lingered in my nostrils—fragrant flowers, cloying perfume that the old ladies seemed to love, and the Old Spice for Gary’s friends. The smells mixed together, dragging me back to a place I didn’t want to go. The sight of the casket being lowered into the ground hit too close to home.

It had been three years since I buried her. Three years of trying to outrun her ghost.

Most days, I managed. But today wasn’t one of them. My wife’s ghost seemed re-energized by Gary’s death. Like being at the funeral opened up the portal to the other world and she wanted to remind me of her and her untimely death.

I leaned low as another curve came up, the bike steady beneath me. For a second, I could almost hear her laugh, light and teasing. It wasn’t real—just my head playing tricks. Still, my fingers tightened on the throttle. I didn’t ease up on the next straightaway. I cranked it, felt the rush of adrenaline surge through me, and tried to outrun the pain.

When shit got real, I got on my bike. Outracing my demons might have been courting danger. I had been told I had a death wish more than once. Maybe I did have a death wish, or maybe it was just a way to feel something other than the numbness that had settled in my bones since she passed. The bike was an escape, a temporary reprieve from the haunting quiet of the house we once shared.

I came up to my usual turnaround spot about twenty miles outside the city. I knew I had to head back. The darkness would creep in soon enough. Riding balls out in the dead of night was a bad idea. Death wish or not, I wasn’t interested in excruciating pain.

The ride back was quieter, even contemplative. The city lights got bigger and brighter as I approached, pulling me out of the winding back roads and into a more controlled chaos. I slowed, weaving through traffic with sharp, aggressive precision. The engine still growled beneath me, ready to run wild again, but I kept it on a leash.

Barely.

I spotted her as I came to a red light, my hand poised over the brake lever. Merritt was standing on the curb, hailing a cab. I hadn’t seen her since the funeral, and yet, there she was, as if the universe thought I hadn’t been punished enough today.

I made a snap decision, cutting the cab off before it could even reach her. It honked but I didn’t care. I swung the bike to the curb and pulled off my helmet. Shaking my hair loose, I grinned at her.

“Need a ride?”

Her gaze flicked to me, then to the bike. A sleek, matte black monster I had customized myself. It wasn’t for the faint of heart, and Merritt knew it.

She shook her head, crossing her arms. “Not on that thing.”

“You used to love riding on the back.” I dangled the helmet toward her, my grin widening. “Come on, for old times’ sake?”

“No thanks.”

“Are you scared?” I teased.

“Don’t be so childish. We’re not fifteen daring each other to touch an electric fence.”

I laughed. “I think we were like twelve when that happened. And you never touched it.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to you,” she said.

“No, you don’t, but I think you want to know what it’s like to have all this power between your legs.”

Yes, it was innuendo. Judging by the look on her face, she caught it.

“Grow up,” she muttered, though her eyes sparkled with a hint of challenge I couldn’t resist.

“Who? Me? The distinguished Mr. Warner?” Leaning on the handlebars, I smirked and cocked an eyebrow at her. “What if I told you this offer was more for my benefit than your thrill?”

A slow, calculating smile stretched across her face. “Well, in that case… No.”

“Come on, you know you want to.”

She bit her bottom lip, hesitating. I had to suppress a groan. That habit used to make me weak in the knees. Now it just made me hard as hell.