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22
ARIA
The sound of Will’s motorcycle approaching my cottage was quickly becoming one of my favorite sounds in the entire world. The rush of my heartbeat, the quickening of my breath, the dizziness that overtook me even though he wasn’t even here yet. Just the anticipation of knowing I’d soon be in his arms had my body reacting like he was already holding me.
I opened the door, ready to greet him with a wide smile. But then it faltered when I saw the dark look in his eyes. He was still seated on the bike, his helmet still on but the visor open. He held my helmet out to me. “Wanna go for a ride?”
When he’d texted me earlier and asked if I was home and free this evening, he hadn’t mentioned wanting to go for a ride. I’d figured we’d hang here, but that was fine. I just hoped the cause of his dark mood wasn’t too serious. Maybe he’d had a rough day at work and going for a ride would clear his mind. “Um, sure. Lemme grab my jacket.”
It was June in the South, so I wouldn’t need it for the cold, but I liked the idea of having some protection when we were on the bike. Just in case. I ducked back into the cottage and slipped my arms into the sleeves, then took my wallet, keys, and phone from my big tote bag and transferred them to a crossbody that I’d hung by the door for convenience.
“Ready,” I said to him when I stepped back outside.
He wordlessly helped me into my helmet and then onto the bike behind him. I wrapped my arms around his waist and held on, trying not to let it bother me that he hadn’t taken his helmet off and greeted me with a kiss. That would probably be silly, taking the helmet off just to give me a quick peck only to have to put it back on. Besides, he’d had my helmet in his hands. Then he would have had to juggle them, and it would have been all awkward. Yeah, it made sense he hadn’t kissed me hello. It wasn’t like a requirement or something. It didn’t mean anything.
By the time he turned down the familiar road that led to our dock, I’d pretty much convinced myself that everything was fine. The wind had blown away my fears over his low mood, just like I hoped it was doing for him as he steered us down the winding roads. I totally got why Will had turned into a motorcycle guy. It was peaceful in an exhilarating way, and I was pretty in love with it myself.
Will came to a stop at the edge of the dock and killed the engine, flipping down the kickstand and leaning the bike carefully to the side. He held his hand over his shoulder to help me down, then took care of my helmet before taking off his. When our eyes met, a sinking feeling told me the wind hadn’t blown away his bad day after all.
I reached up, putting a hand on his cheek and brushing my thumb over his cheekbone. “What’s wrong, Will?”
He adjusted his seat on the bike, taking a deep breath. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. “I broke Roberts’s nose today.”
My eyes flared before I could stop them, and I pulled my hand back from where it had come to rest on his shoulder. He followed the movement with so much pain in his eyes, then looked at his empty shoulder where my hand had been only a second before.
A thousand things flashed through my mind. Roberts was the guy hazing Chase. He’d told me all about it. But he’d also told me that as much as he wanted to deck the guy, he’d get in a lot of trouble if he did. Besides that, I knew Will had a thing about fighting.
In high school, he’d gone through a short phase where he’d been prone to fighting. At the time, I’d been pretty saddened by it. I remembered wondering if he really thought that was the best way to handle conflict considering what he dealt with at home. But then at some point, he’d stopped all of that. It was actually right after we’d kissed, now that I thought about it. I hadn’t heard about him getting into a physical fight ever since.
“You broke his nose? Like, you punched him?” I asked, my voice an octave too high.
He hung his head. “Yeah.”
“W-Why?”
“He was about to hit Chase. He was mad that he got busted for the hazing.”
I processed this new information, my brows knitting together as I pictured it. “So, you were defending Chase, then.”
It wasn’t a question. If Roberts was about to hit Chase and got hit by Will instead, that was clearly a defense situation. Totally justified. And yet the handsome man before me looked like he’d been caught committing a heinous crime. Guilt seeped out of him with such force I could almost taste it.
“Will,” I started, stepping closer. “It’s okay. It’s good that you stopped him from hitting Chase.”
He jerked his head, getting off the bike so quickly I backed up in reflex. He quirked a brow when he noticed that, then looked even more guilty. Without a word, he turned for the edge of the dock, the thudding of his boots echoing across the lake.
For a moment, I just stood there, watching him walk all the way to the end of the wooden structure. He stopped at the end, tucking his hands in his pockets. Why was he so upset that he’d defended Chase? I mean, yes, he didn’t normally like to get in fights. And yes, that had a lot to do with his history. But this situation seemed justified. What was the problem?
Taking a deep breath, I followed him down the dock, stopping next to him. “Will?”
“Yeah?” He didn’t look at me.
“Why are you so upset over protecting Chase? Isn’t that kind of what you do?”
“What I do?”
“Yeah, you know. Mr. Protective, remember?”
He sighed deeply. “I didn’t just protect him. I let my anger get the best of me.”
