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That time, I turned the faucet just shy of hot.

Peeled her out of her tee and stepped with her into the spray. I knelt as I washed myself off her body, then tipped my head back to gaze at her with the water pelting my face.

“Don’t want to ruin you, Little Apple.”

She brushed tender fingers through my hair with rivulets of water streaming down her gorgeous body.

“You make me better, Trevan. You always have.”

FORTY-EIGHT

ELENA

SEVENTEEN YEARS OLD

“Why is this so hard?” Elena dropped her forehead to her physics textbook, rolling it back and forth like it might telepathically transfer the knowledge into her brain.

She was pretty sure that was the only way she was going to get it.

Meems chuckled a soft sound from where she stood at the counter, prepping for their dinner. “I remember your momma saying the exact same thing. But it’ll come. Just open yourself up to it.”

Wistfulness nudged into Elena’s spirit. She could almost picture her mother at her own age. Sitting at the dining room table while Meems made her dinner. She couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like if her mother was still there then.

Murmuring those same encouragements.

Elena’s heart both cracked and glowed, and she lifted her head to peer over at Meems. “I remember she was so smart.”

“That she was. Smart and kind and good. And so dang beautiful.”

“The whole package,” Elena said with a soggy laugh.

Meems peered back at her with adoration on her face. “Same as her daughter. Know she’s looking down and thinking the exact same thing about you.”

Elena could almost feel her mother sitting beside her at the table.

At least she wanted to believe that. That she was right there. That she hadn’t gone too far away that she wasn’t still a part of her.

“I’m not sure about that,” Elena said on a puff of self-deprecation. “I think I’m short an element or two to make a full package.”

Meems tsked. “Nonsense. You’re perfect the way you are. We each are given exactly what we need for us to become who we’re supposed to be.”

Affection pulsed through Elena, and she teased, “You’d better not just be saying that.”

Meems chuckled. “Never.”

A whole different sort of emotion bottled up inside her when she heard the distinct sound of motorcycles approaching in the distance.

An inciting factor that stormed through her insides on fluttery, buzzing waves.

“Sounds like trouble.” It was Meems’ own tease.

Silas and Trevan usually returned in the evening after working at the autobody shop, would eat dinner, then would slink off to do whatever they did during the night.

Elena knew it was bad. Could see it written all over them. The toll it was taking so obvious it carved through her like her own scar.

The MC they rode for was making all the good within them decay.

Silas tried to play it off that it was innocent, but she wasn’t an idiot.