Chapter 41

41

KANNON

“ Y ou good?” Riggs asked.

“Fine.”

“Want to talk about it?” he asked as he leaned on the bar.

“I don’t think there is anything to talk about.” I shrugged and stared at nothing. “She’s not going to stop me from riding.”

“Did she actually try to stop you?”

“May as well,” I said. “She says it’s all about my recklessness but that’s just how it starts. Next it will be the bike and then my clothes. You didn’t see how she lives.”

“What does that mean?”

“She’s—I don’t know—she’s not the same Merritt.”

“How so?”

“She lives in a really nice apartment or condo or whatever the hell they call it. They have valet service. And she drives a Cadillac. A fucking Caddy, Riggs.”

Riggs raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his Coke. “So? You’re mad because she’s doing well?”

I scowled and stared at the bubbles in my own drink. “It’s not that. It just feels like she’s moved on to a whole different life. A life where there maybe isn’t any room for a guy with grease under his fingernails and a penchant for two wheels.”

“That’s tough, man.” Riggs’s voice softened a bit. “But that doesn’t mean she wants you out of her life. Maybe she’s just finding her own way, you know?”

“Her closet is full of fancy dresses and heels.” I knew I sounded like a whiny little bitch, but I couldn’t stop myself. “She works in a big corporate world with an office overlooking the city. She took me to a party, something she apparently does quite often. It was on a fucking yacht.”

Riggs shook his head slightly, letting out a low whistle. “Sounds like you’re feeling pretty out of place.”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “Out of place doesn’t even start to cover it.”

“Look, Kannon.” Riggs leaned closer, his expression serious. “Maybe it’s not about the fancy clothes or the fancy parties. Maybe it’s about you feeling like you don’t belong in her world. But, buddy, that’s your insecurities talking, not her.”

“I met her friends,” I said. “They’re all uppity and wear designer clothes. They drive fancy shit. I talked to some of the guys in her inner circle. They told me all about their motorcycles .” I rolled my eyes and shook my head. “They ride those big ass baggers. They don’t ride bikes. They’re all about comfort and casual rides. Their riding gear is all shiny and new. They were asking about my bike like it was some kind of museum piece.”

“Man, that’s the thing about bikes, isn’t it? They’re personal. Yours has history. Soul. Maybe they just don’t understand that kind of relationship with a bike.”

“No because they aren’t real riders,” I muttered. “That’s the kind of biker she wants.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know if that’s true.”

“Riggs, she told me to slow down. Don’t drive fast. Be careful. Wear more gear.” I scoffed and took a long drink of the club soda. “Like suddenly she’s my mother or something. It’s not just about being safe. It feels like she’s trying to change me.”

Riggs sighed and put down his Coke. “Look, Kannon, maybe she’s worried about you. People who care can come off strong sometimes. It doesn’t always mean they want to change you.”

“Maybe.” I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling the tension knotted there. “But it doesn’t feel like worry. It feels like she’s embarrassed by me.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because every time we’re around her new friends, I can see it—the way she looks at me, quick glances checking if I will say something off or do something that doesn’t fit. It’s like she’s always on edge, ready to apologize for me.”

Riggs listened, nodding slowly. “Has she said anything directly?”

“Not exactly,” I admitted. “But it’s the little things.”

“Kannon,” Riggs said, his tone firm. “You have to talk to her. Seriously, man. You can’t bottle this up and make assumptions. I see the way she looks at you. Trust me, that’s a woman that is very excited about the man you are. I would venture to guess she might even like the way you look.”

I inhaled deeply. “Whatever. I’m out of here.”

I slid off the stool and walked out. I knew what I needed. Whenever I got this feeling in my gut, I had to hit the road. I climbed on my bike and was about to pull on my helmet when I heard Riggs.

“Yo, Kannon!” Riggs hollered, stepping out onto the gravel parking lot. His cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, and the orange glow lit up his face. “You sure about riding right now?”

“I’m good,” I muttered, tugging on my gloves.

“Don’t lie to me, kid.” He took a long drag and narrowed his eyes at me. “You’re riled up. I can see it from a mile away. You’re not thinking straight. This is not the time for you to be riding.”

“Thinking’s overrated,” I shot back, starting the bike. The engine roared to life, loud enough to end the conversation if I wanted it to.

Riggs wasn’t one to back down easily. He crossed his arms, ignoring the rumble of the bike. “You want to work it out like a man, then go back inside. Shoot some pool, down a beer. Just don’t ride like a jackass. Not tonight. You’re just gonna prove her right.”

“I need the road, not your advice,” I said, meeting his gaze through the dark visor. “Thanks for the concern, though.”

He said something about hard-headed fools but didn’t try to stop me. I twisted the throttle and sped out of the lot. Gravel spit out behind me. The open road was calling, and I had no intention of ignoring it.

The city streets were congested, the taillights of cars stretching out like a string of Christmas lights. I weaved through the traffic, ignoring the occasional blare of a horn or flash of headlights. My focus was on getting out of the mess and onto the back roads where I could let loose.

When I finally hit the open stretches of asphalt outside of town, I felt the shift in my very soul. The tension melted into the rush of adrenaline as I opened the throttle. The world blurred around me as I pushed the bike faster and faster. Every corner was an invitation, every straightaway a challenge to see just how far I could push myself. The speed was a rush. Something I craved.

But no matter how fast I went, I couldn’t outrun her.

Merritt’s face was there, burned into my mind’s eye. Her smile, the sound of her laugh, the way her eyes softened when she looked at me. She was impossible to ignore, no matter how hard I tried. I gritted my teeth and leaned into another turn, daring the bike to lose grip, daring myself to care less.

It didn’t work.

Her voice echoed in my head, calm and full of patience I didn’t deserve. Merritt had always been that way, offering me grace when I didn’t earn it and love when I didn’t ask for it. She was everything good, everything warm, everything I’d spent my whole life running from because I didn’t think I could have it. And now?

Now I was screwing it all up.

She was asking me for one thing. She was telling me she cared about me. All she wanted was for me to be careful so I would be around to be with her. That was a compliment. A show of love.

So why in the hell was it such an issue for me? Why couldn’t I just acknowledge her very real and valid request? She lost her father and didn’t want to lose me. I was being selfish.

The speedometer climbed higher as I gave the bike everything it had, hoping to drown out the ache in my chest. What the hell was wrong with me? I had everything I had ever wanted, and I was too much of an idiot to hold on to it.

I let off the throttle slightly, the bike’s growl softening. What would Gary think if he could see me now?

“Sorry, Gary,” I muttered under my breath, the words swept away by the wind. “I didn’t mean to hurt her. I never wanted that.”

But I had. More than once. And every time I saw the pain in Merritt’s eyes, it twisted something deep inside me. Why couldn’t I stop being such an ass? She deserved better—better than me, better than the excuses I gave, better than the promises I kept breaking.

She deserved everything she gave so freely to others. Grace. Love. Acceptance. And maybe, if I tried harder, I could be the man who gave it back to her. She needed a man that was going to show up for dinner every night in one piece without a concussion. She didn’t need to be cleaning my injuries and worrying about my bruised ribs.

The thought slowed me down even more, my grip on the handlebars loosening as clarity began to seep in. I didn’t want to lose her. Not over this, not over anything. Merritt was worth every fight, every challenge, every second it took to prove to her that I could be better. She was my chance at something real, something lasting. And all I had to do was promise her I wouldn’t risk my life.

It wasn’t even a choice. She was worth it.

The road ahead curved into a gentle bend, and I leaned into it easily, my thoughts clearer than they’d been in days. The rush was gone, replaced by something calmer, steadier. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I could breathe again. The slower speed felt good. I could feel my nerves calming and my heartrate slowing as the adrenaline started to ebb.

And then, out of nowhere, headlights filled my vision.

The blinding light came too fast. The headlights were in my lane coming straight for me. My heart jumped into my throat. I yanked the bike to the right, tires screeching against the pavement. Burning rubber filled my nostrils. The sound of brakes locking up behind me was deafening. For a split second, time froze. Metal against metal and a violent impact that sent me flying.

Then, everything went dark.