Chapter 13

13

KANNON

T he ride was good. I felt her relaxing against me. She started out all stiff and angry, but no one could resist the pull of the open road. There was just something cathartic about the wind slapping you in the face. Even the most stalwart, uptight people caved to its relentless whisper eventually.

I knew Merritt needed this—more than she probably realized herself. She was always in control, always the strong one. But even the strongest needed to lean on someone else sometimes, to let go.

As the miles stretched out behind us, I planned our route in my mind. A place came to mind—an old spot I used to go to clear my head. A secluded area in the middle of nowhere. It was the perfect place for Merritt to just breathe without all the noise of her life pressing in on her.

I could feel her cheek against my back and suspected her eyes were closed. It was a sunny day, thankfully. I knew that feeling. The sun beating down on you, the warmth from the rays combating the chill of the wind.

It felt rejuvenating, almost cleansing. I took a deep breath of the fresh air myself, holding on to the feeling of freedom that riding always brought me. I knew I should be back at the house busting ass, but this felt more important. I needed to keep her from spiraling.

I glanced over my shoulder to check on her. She seemed at peace. In that moment, I felt a sense of pride knowing I had provided her this little break from the heaviness weighing her down. I was her hero, even if it was only for an hour.

I geared down as we approached a bend. The road here was less traveled and it felt like we were the only people in the world. We passed some cows grazing in a field. They barely looked our way.

I took the turn down a dirt road. It led to an old barn in the middle of a field that had long been forgotten. The building was probably over a hundred years old. Its wood was weathered to a silver gray and the roof was caved in at a few places. Tall grass surrounded the building. I killed the engine and we both dismounted.

Merritt removed the helmet, her hair a little tousled. Her cheeks were flushed from the rush of air and adrenaline. She looked around, her eyes wide with a mix of curiosity and wonder. “This place is beautiful,” she murmured, and I could hear the genuine appreciation in her voice.

“It’s my secret spot,” I confessed, leaning against the bike and watching her take it all in. “Not many people know about it. It’s where I come when the world gets too loud.”

Merritt walked toward the barn. “Watch for snakes,” I warned.

“It feels like it’s straight out of a painting,” she said softly, almost to herself. “I bet a lot of people would love to use this for a photo backdrop.”

“I figured you might appreciate a break from all the chaos.”

She continued to explore the area. I could see her breathing a little easier. She turned and looked at me with a small smile. “Thank you, Kannon. I didn’t realize how much I needed to get away.”

I nodded. “Sometimes all it takes is a moment away from everything to find a bit of peace.”

We spent some time just appreciating the beauty of the area. Eventually, we loaded back on the bike, but I wasn’t ready to take her back to the house just yet. I didn’t think she was ready to face all of that either. We weren’t on anyone’s timeline. We could do what we wanted.

There were no rules. Even if there were, I would break them.

We headed back toward the city. I drove a lot slower than normal. I wasn’t ready to stop our little adventure. Eventually, I pulled into the cracked and faded parking lot of the old bowling alley. It looked even more rundown than I remembered, which was saying something. A couple of the neon letters were flickering, and the others had given up the ghost entirely. But the music thumped inside, spilling through the grimy windows. I found myself smiling with the flood of memories coming at me. I knew I had made the right call.

Merritt hopped off the back of my bike, tugging at her jacket. “The bowling alley?” She arched a brow, skeptical but curious. “I can’t believe this place is still open.”

“Yup.” I grinned. “Figured you could use some good memories to balance the bad ones.”

She glanced at the building. “It’s been years.”

“All the more reason to visit.” I started toward the entrance, pausing when I realized she wasn’t following. “Come on, Merritt. Don’t make me drag you.”

She rolled her eyes but trailed after me. As soon as we stepped inside, the black lights caught the white stitching on her jacket. Her sneakers lit up like a pair of glowsticks. I couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out.

“What?” she asked, glancing down at herself, her teeth glowing.

“Nothing.” I shook my head, still smiling. “You just look like you belong here.”

“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

I chuckled and walked inside. The smell of fried food and the hum of the arcade games hit me like a time machine. We used to live for this place—cheap thrills, glowing pins, and the challenge of beating each other’s high scores. I could almost smell the cotton candy body spray she used to wear, and for a second, I was seventeen again, watching her gloss her lips with that sparkly stuff I wanted to taste so badly it drove me insane.

The bowling alley had been the hangout place. It was a little slice of freedom. Our parents would drop us off and let us go buck wild for a few hours every Friday night. It was never really about the bowling. It was about laughing with your friends and trying to talk to girls. There were a lot of romances made and broken in this bowling alley.

I snapped myself out of the reverie and headed to the counter to grab us a lane. It wasn’t exactly busy—half the screens were busted, and the staff looked about as thrilled to be there as I had felt on my worst construction gigs. I returned with two pairs of shoes, handing hers over.

“You remembered my size?” she asked, surprised.

“How could I forget those giant feet?” I said, dropping into the plastic seat beside her.

“You ass, they’re not that big,” she said, laughing.

I shrugged. “Of course not. Compared to, like, Bigfoot, they’re positively dainty.”

She’d barely started to lace up before I reached over, swatting her hands away.

“Kannon, I can tie my own shoes,” she protested, but I ignored her, tugging the laces tight.

“Maybe, but you would take twice as long. It’s a big job, caging these beasts.”

“Why do I put up with you?” She sighed dramatically but let me finish.

I couldn’t help but smirk. It felt good, doing something simple for her, like old times. I liked taking care of her and teasing her. I had missed this about her. We walked to our lane, laughing at the multicolored clown shoes that had probably seen thousands of feet. That was not a thought I wanted to spend too much time on.

“Ready?” I asked after we each picked a ball.

Merritt nodded. “Let’s do this.”

“I’m not going easy on you,” I said.

“Bring it on, sucker.” She hefted her ball, took a deep breath, and hurled it down the lane. It was a gutter ball, but she turned around with a laugh. “Well, I guess I haven’t improved since high school.”

Without a word, I picked up my own ball and rolled it down the lane smoothly. A strike.

Merritt clapped her hands, cheering. “Show-off,” she teased.

“Only when you’re watching,” I shot back.

Her next couple of frames weren’t any better.

“Should I get the bumper guards?” I asked.

She glared at me as I held back a laugh.

“Shut up,” she shot back, but there was a spark in her eyes. That was what I wanted to see. This was the Merritt I knew from years ago. And she wasn’t smothered by a dark cloud of sadness for a change.

By the fifth frame, her competitive streak kicked in. I’d forgotten how fierce she could be, but watching her line up her shots, analyzing every angle like she was solving a puzzle, reminded me. She started nailing spares, closing the gap between our scores.

“You’re sweating, Kannon,” she said, smirking as she sank back into her seat. “Worried I might win?”

I grabbed my ball, shaking my head as I approached the lane. “You’ve never beaten me, Merritt. Why start now?”

“First time for everything.”

I chuckled, focusing on the pins. My shot curved perfectly, sending them scattering for a strike. I turned back, arms spread wide. “Still got it.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “Let’s see if you can keep it up, hotshot.”

“Wait,” I said as she picked up her ball. “I need a drink. What do you want?”

She paused for a second. “A beer. I always wanted to drink beer like the older crowd. Remember how cool we thought they were with their pitchers of beer and nachos?”

The older crowd was the twenty-somethings that hung out at the bowling alley because they were very un-cool . But to us, they had been the coolest kids ever. We had tried several times to order our own pitcher, but it never worked. I even tried a fake ID and it still failed.

It did feel like we were breaking the rules by finally getting to order one.

“Beer it is,” I said.

I walked over to the bar, the floor sticky under my shoes. The bartender looked up from his phone as I approached.

“Pitcher of Coors Light,” I said.

“Coming right up,” he replied with a bored drawl.

As I waited, I glanced back at Merritt. She was setting up her next shot, her concentration intense. That image brought a nostalgic smile to my face. She always did take things seriously, even the small stuff.

The bartender slid the pitcher across the counter to me along with two frosted glasses. “Anything else?” he asked, sounding as if he hoped I’d say no.

“That’ll do,” I replied, picking up the chilly handle of the pitcher.

I made my way back to our lane and poured us each a glass. Merritt picked it up and grinned. “I feel like a rebel.”

I laughed before taking a drink.

“Alright, let me finish kicking your ass,” I teased.

She put down the glass and collected her ball. She threw it, sending it toward the pins. They toppled in a satisfying crash, though not quite a strike. Merritt punched the air triumphantly anyway. “That’s how it’s done.”

I grinned, admiring her resilience. “Not bad. But you’re still trailing behind.”

She sipped her beer, foam clinging to her lips. “For now.”

The rest of the game was close, just like it always used to be. She pushed me to try harder, made me sweat a little, and I loved every second of it. When I landed two strikes in the final frame, securing the win, she groaned dramatically, collapsing into the seat next to me.

“Of course you had to show off one last time,” she said with a huff.

“You love it.” I smirked, slumping back in the seat beside her. “Admit it, Merritt. You missed this.”

She glanced over, her expression softening. “Maybe a little.”

The conversation had started slow, but once it picked up, it was like no time had passed at all. We started people-watching, pointing out the muffin tops and bad hairstyles, making up ridiculous scenarios for strangers.

“Okay, okay, what about that guy?” Merritt said, nudging me. She pointed at a middle-aged man with a gut and a mullet who was yelling at the ball return.

“Easy,” I said, leaning forward. “He’s a former pro bowler who’s been banned from every league in the country for using performance-enhancing drugs. Now he spends his days hustling amateurs at rundown alleys.”

“What kind of drugs would that be for bowling?” she asked.

“Beer and nachos, I think.”

She burst out laughing. “You’re such an idiot.”

I shrugged, grinning. “Your turn.”

Her gaze scanned the room before landing on a teenage couple fumbling their way through a game a few lanes down. The boy looked nervous as hell, and the girl was giggling uncontrollably.

“They’re on their first date,” Merritt said. “She’s been into him forever, but he’s clueless. He only figured it out when his best friend dared him to ask her out.”

“Classic,” I said, nodding approvingly. “How’s it end?”

She thought for a moment, a smile tugging at her lips. “He kisses her in the parking lot. She keeps the scorecard as a souvenir. They end up together for the rest of high school.”

“Sounds familiar,” I said quietly.

We played another game. She seemed relaxed, almost happy, which made me happy.

When the game was over and we turned in our shoes, she stopped me at the door.

“Thanks, Kannon,” she said. “I needed this. It’s been a long time since I just had fun.”

I smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. “You’re welcome. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you next time.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You never do.”

I couldn’t help but think that this wasn’t just about helping her. It was about us. About remembering what we had, and maybe, just maybe, finding a way back to it.