Chapter 39

39

KANNON

I climbed into a taxi and slammed the door so hard it earned me a dirty look from the driver. I ignored the man’s glare and leaned my head back against the seat. The frustration and confusion had built up inside me, making it hard to think straight. Why couldn’t Merritt understand? It wasn’t just about the bike or the thrill. It was a fundamental part of me.

Why did she want to be with me if she didn’t like who I was? Was she going to tell me she didn’t like my leather jacket or the way I dressed? It just felt like too much right out of the gate. It didn’t bode well for the future.

My thoughts were muddled. I couldn’t deny that I loved Merritt—her spirit, her laugh, the way she looked at me like I was the sexiest man in the world. But this? This felt like a chokehold.

I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling slightly as I tried to figure out what to do next. I had known plenty of guys that had girlfriends that bitched and moaned about the riding. Usually, the guys chose their women over their bikes. They hung up their handlebars and lived in marital bliss until the women dumped them on their ass. I didn’t want to end up being the poor sap with no bike and no woman. It wasn’t like Merritt was truly committing to anything. Hell, she still had an apartment in Miami.

The taxi pulled to a stop in front of my house. “Thanks,” I said as I climbed out.

Inside, I tossed my bag on the couch and stood in my living room to consider my options. I could sit home, sulk and drink or I could climb on my bike and hit the road. I already knew what I was going to do.

I grabbed my leather jacket and riding gloves from my room. The jacket was stiff, not like my other one that was nice and broken in. But it would be eventually—because I wasn’t going to stop riding. Fuck that.

I went out to the garage and opened the door. My bike had been fully repaired. Only the paint job bore the scars of the last crash. I climbed on and fired it up, feeling a sense of pride that it started without any trouble.

One thing in this world wouldn’t let me down.

I revved the engine. The sound filled the garage with its familiar, comforting roar. It was like a calling, pulling me toward the road, toward freedom. I needed to clear my head, to feel the wind against my face and the power of the bike beneath me. This was where I belonged. It was part of who I was.

As I pulled onto the street, the cool night air hit me, sharp and invigorating. I hit the highway and opened it up. The faster I went, the more my troubles seemed to fade away, left behind in the whirlwind of speed and adrenaline.

I pushed the throttle harder than I normally would. The wind whipped against me as I tore down empty roads. Unfortunately, the speed was doing nothing to erase the anger. It clung to me like a second skin.

I still wasn’t ready to go home and ended up heading for the bar. I was exhausted, but the anger wasn’t out of my system. If anything, it felt worse.

I left my helmet on the bike and walked inside. The place was quiet for a change. Just a couple regulars nursed their beers in the back corner. Riggs was behind the counter, wiping down glasses like always. I honestly wondered if that was just a nervous habit. I knew the glasses went through a dishwasher. And that rag was disgusting.

He looked up when I walked in, giving me a nod.

“Didn’t think I’d see you back so soon,” he said. “Rough trip?”

“You could say that,” I muttered, sliding onto a stool at the bar.

Riggs studied me for a second. “What’s up, man?”

“Gimme a burger. Please.”

“Drink?”

I shook my head. “Just a club soda.”

He nodded and called back my burger. He filled a glass with club soda and handed it to me. “You look like someone ran over your dog.”

I shot him a look. “Not in the mood, Riggs.”

He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Just a cheeseburger. Maybe you’ll be in a better mood after you eat.”

My stomach growled. After the shitty day, I was surprised I was hungry at all. Riggs busied himself restocking napkins and pretty much doing anything he could to avoid me.

I held up my glass. “I need another.”

“What do you say?”

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t be an ass.”

“I’m not the one being an ass, Grumpy Gus.” He snatched my glass and started to refill it. “I thought you were in Miami.”

“I was. Now I’m back.”

“No shit. That Florida sun cook your brain or what?”

“No.”

“What did you do while you were there? Did you get a chance to try that Cuban coffee?”

I shrugged. “Nah, went to the beach. Went on some party yacht. Not much.”

“Party yacht? Alright, fancy pants. Did Merritt come back with you?”

I frowned. “She came back to Dallas, yes.”

“Ah,” he said.

“What does that mean?”

He laughed. “You went to Florida together but you came back separated. No wonder you’re acting like such a downer.”

I took a deep breath. “She wants me to quit riding.”

“She told you that?”

“Basically.”

He chuckled. “Did she ask you to sell your bike?”

“No.”

“Did she ask you to give her the keys, pop the tires, or park it?”

I knew what he was driving at. “I’m not on a suicide mission. I ride for fun and freedom. That’s it. I don’t have a death wish.”

“Ah, that little wreck freaked her out,” he said.

“It was fucking minor.”

Riggs shook his head, still chuckling. “To you, maybe. But you know how it is with people who don’t ride. Every scratch is a death sentence in their eyes. Plus, you were pretty fucked up.”

“Yeah, well, maybe she’s not cut out for this,” I said.

“Maybe not,” Riggs agreed. “But don’t be too hard on her. Fear does funny things to people.”

The sound of a bell ringing pulled Riggs away.

Soon, my burger was delivered. Riggs kept his distance. I heard the door open, but it didn’t faze me. But it was the expression on Riggs’s face that said it all.

I felt the presence next to me. I took a deep breath and put my burger down before I turned my head to look at Merritt. I was about to ask what she was doing there when she held up her hand to stop me from saying a word.

“I thought you might be here,” she said, taking a seat on the stool next to mine. Her voice was calm, but her eyes betrayed the storm behind them. “Can we talk?”

“You can,” I said, leaning back on my stool and crossing my arms.

Riggs let out a low whistle. “Another asshole flare-up? Dude, what’s with you lately? Finish your burger before you make any rash decisions.”

I scowled at him. “Mind your business, Riggs.”

He smirked and turned to Merritt. “Save your breath, sweetheart. Might as well be talking to a turd on a log right now. This one gets his panties in a twist and lashes out like a wounded animal.”

Merritt didn’t even blink. “Thanks for the advice,” she said. “But I’m not going anywhere. This turd on a log needs to hear this.”

Riggs shrugged, giving her a sympathetic look. “Your funeral,” he muttered, wandering off to the other end of the bar.

I could feel Merritt’s eyes on me, but I didn’t meet her gaze. Instead, I picked at my fries, hoping she’d take the hint and leave. But Merritt was nothing if not stubborn.

“You’re impossible,” she said finally. “Do you know that?”

“So I’ve heard.”

“This is stupid. You’re being ridiculous. I want to knock you upside the head. You can’t keep pushing everyone away. It’s not healthy, and it’s hurting more than just you.”

I continued to focus on my fries, not wanting to admit how right she was.

“Don’t hold back on my account,” I muttered.

Her hands curled into fists at her sides but she kept her composure. “I’m not asking for too much, Kannon. I’m not asking you to change who you are. I would never want that. I want you for who you are. I have zero desire to want you to be something you don’t want to be. I’m asking you to think about what it means to be with me—to really be with me. If you’re not ready for that, say so. But don’t use your stupid bike as an excuse to push me away.”

I finally looked up at her. “Is that right? You think you’ve got me all figured out, huh?”

She didn’t flinch. “You’re scared. You’ve been scared since the moment we decided to do this, and instead of admitting it, you’re sabotaging us. If that’s what you want, fine. You can finish working on my dad’s house, and I’ll go back to Miami. We can call it done. But don’t pretend this is about your motorcycle.”

Her words hit harder than I wanted to admit, and for a second, I didn’t know what to say. Nothing felt right. She waited a beat, then turned and walked toward the door.

I dropped my burger and followed her out, the door slamming shut behind me. “Merritt, wait,” I called out.

She stopped on the sidewalk, spinning around to face me. Her eyes were blazing. “What do you want, Kannon?”

“You think this is easy for me?” I shot back, my temper flaring. “You think I don’t know how fragile life is? Loving you my entire life has made me fucking crazy, Merritt. And now that I finally have you, you’re ruining it by trying to control me.”

Her jaw dropped. “You don’t have me, you asshole,” she snapped. “You don’t own me. Do you understand?”

My chest tightened as I took a step closer. “I just said I loved you, and that’s what you heard? Unbelievable. You’re selfish, Merritt.”

Her laugh was bitter. “Selfish? Are you kidding me? You have your head so far up your ass, Kannon, you can’t see straight.”

“At least with my head up there, I don’t have to hear your nagging,” I shot back.

Her eyes widened, and for a moment, I thought she was going to slap me. But she didn’t. Instead, she took a shaky breath. “I can’t believe I let you trick me into thinking this could work. You thought I was the broken one who needed fixing? You need to look in a mirror, Kannon. Until you do, don’t call me.”

The words hurt but I didn’t let it show. “Don’t worry about me calling you,” I said, my voice cold. “We’re done.”

Her face twisted with a mix of fury and heartbreak, and even as the words left my mouth, I hated them. Hated myself for saying them. For taking the one thing that mattered most to me and shattering it. I was letting my past hurt and frustration rule me. I was lashing out at her for no good reason.

“Well, at least I never have to wonder anymore.”

She turned and walked away, her back straight and her shoulders back. I watched her go, my chest aching with every step she took. I could call out. I could apologize. I could do just about anything except for what I was doing, which was nothing.

When she disappeared around the corner, my eyes drifted to my motorcycle parked at the curb. The engine gleamed under the streetlights, a reminder of everything I’d fought to keep—and everything I’d just lost.

She said she wasn’t making me choose, but that was what it felt like.

I had chosen pieces of steel and rubber over flesh and blood—over Merritt. A surge of regret twisted in my gut as I clenched and unclenched my fists.

I turned and walked back into the bar. The temptation to drink was strong, but I wasn’t going to because I knew what I was going to do, and I wanted to do it stone-cold sober.