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“Yes. I know a car when I see one, but why are you driving it?”
He sighed, looked down, and shook his head. “It’s mine.”
His cheeks were red when he looked back up at me on the porch. He wasn’t happy about the car. Hell, he was probably embarrassed to be driving it.
“Since when?”
Another thing I had missed because I was too wrapped up in my grief. I hoped he could forgive me one day, but I had blocked out the world, including him. Now that I was slowly emerging from the black, I could see everything he and the guys had done for me.
“Since you got out of the hospital,” he answered.
“This entire time, you’ve been driving that thing?” Again, I pointed at the ugly car.
He nodded.
“Where’s your bike, Koah?”
I swallowed against the rush of emotion in my throat. I didn’t like it, but Koah belonged on a bike. Sure, having a car was nice on rainy days or if you had a large load of groceries, but other than that, he didn’t look right driving anything else.
He didn’t answer me immediately, and I had to ask again. “Where is it?”
He licked his thick lips and scratched at the scruff growing on his cheeks. Something else I hadn’t noticed. “I sold it.”
The porch felt as if it had shifted. A weight pressed down on me, suffocating me with a force that couldn’t be seen. I gasped at his words, the world around me spinning faster.
“You didn’t.”
Surely, he was playing. There was no way Koah Saint sold his beautiful motorcycle. There was no way he would do such a thing.
“I did. It’s gone.”
His words were broken in a way I understood. He was grieving the loss of his bike, and while it was different from grieving the loss of a sister or a brother, I could feel his pain. His bike was just another thing he was losing because of me.
“Why?” I croaked, my voice thick with emotion, pain, and grief.
“We needed the money. We need a car and a place. It’s the fastest way to get those things.”
We.
He considered us a single unit, and I loved that, but it was all wrong.
Who was Koah Saint without his yellow beauty? Who was he if he wasn’t racing with the pink neons glowing against his skin? I couldn’t let this happen. He needed his bike.
“No, Koah. Not your bike.” My words were whispered, but he was able to hear them.
He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal.”
It was a massive deal.
“It’s important to you.”
I wanted to cry. Everything was wrong, and I wasn’t sure they would ever be normal again.
“Not as important as you are.”
His words hit their target—my heart—and tears rushed to my eyes. I loved him so much and hated the idea of something happening to him on the back of a motorcycle, but selling it wasn’t something that had ever crossed my mind.
“I didn’t ask you to sell your bike.”
