Chapter 2

Bronx

The rumbleof the engine vibrates through me, a steady pulse that echoes the pounding in my chest. I shift in my seat, trying to find a position that eases the tension coiling tight within. The open road stretches out ahead, an endless ribbon of asphalt that"s got nothing on the journey I"m about to take with this pretty little pixie right beside me.

"Damn," I mutter under my breath, sneaking a glance at her. She"s huddled into the passenger seat, her pink hair a bright spot against the dull interior of my truck. Her fingers dance along the edge of her sketchbook, and I wonder what she"s drawing, what she sees that I don"t.

"Everything okay, Bronx?" London"s voice cuts through the hum of the highway, sweet and concerned, pulling at something deep inside me.

"Never better," I lie with a half-grin, turning my attention back to the road. But the truth is, having her this close, her scent mingling with the leather and diesel of my cab, it"s like a slow burn starting in my gut.

I can feel the heat of her gaze, sense her eyes flicking towards me before quickly looking away. It"s a dance we"ve been doing since she climbed into my world, all loaded looks and unspoken words. My hand twitches on the gearshift, itching to reach over, to break that last inch of distance between us.

"Bronx?" That one word, my name on her lips, it"s like a fucking match to kerosene.

"Yeah?" My voice comes out gruff, like the growl of the engine beneath us.

"Tell me about the open road," she says, her voice laced with something like longing.

"Ah, it's freedom, darlin". Just you, the truck, and no one to answer to." I keep it simple, but everything I don"t say hangs heavy between us.

"Sounds perfect," she murmurs, and there"s that brush of her fingertips again, light as a feather against my arm.

My heart kicks up its beat, pounding hard enough to rival the engine"s rhythm. I want to grab her, to yank her onto my lap and show her just how perfect it can be. But I hold back, gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn white.

"Perfect ain"t easy to come by," I manage to say, and it feels like a warning to us both.

"Maybe we can find it together," she whispers, her words wrapping around me, hot and promising.

I drag in a deep breath, letting the cool air fill my lungs, trying to douse the fire she"s kindling. "We"ll see about that, London. We"ll see."

The miles disappear under my wheels, each one drawing me deeper into this thing with London. The craving, the need, it"s all there, simmering just below the surface. And I know, sooner or later, I"m gonna have to give in. Because when it comes to London, my resistance is already wearing thin, worn down by every smile, every touch, every goddamn mile we cover together.

***

The road unfurls like a black ribbon under the headlights, and my grip on the steering wheel is the only thing keeping me grounded. Beside me, London shifts, her thigh brushing mine in the cramped space of the cab. Heat pools in my gut, a primal reaction I can"t seem to control.

"Bronx?" Her voice is a soft caress that makes my pulse race. "You okay?"

"Fine," I grunt, trying to sound unaffected.

Her fingers dance lightly up my arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. It"s an innocent touch, but it damn near shorts out my self-control. "You"re tense," she observes, that innocent lilt in her voice stirring something reckless within me.

"Long drive," I lie, because it"s easier than admitting the real reason for my tension is sitting close enough to smell her sweet scent.

"Tell me something about you," she urges, turning in her seat to face me, her pink hair catching the glow from the dashboard. "Something no one else knows."

I swallow hard. Opening up ain"t my style. But with London looking at me like I"m more than just a grizzled trucker, it feels like the most natural thing in the world.

"Lost my folks when I was just a kid," I confess, the words rough as gravel. "Been on my own ever since. The open road, it"s...it"s kind of been my escape."

"Escape from what?" She"s got this way of sounding genuinely curious, not pitying.

"From being alone, I guess." It"s a truth I"ve never voiced out loud, one that feels raw and exposed. "My truck, it"s the closest thing I"ve got to home."

"Then I"m glad you"re sharing it with me," she whispers, her gaze locking onto mine. There"s a promise in those brown eyes, a silent vow that she"s here for the ride, however bumpy it gets.

"Me too, London. Me too." And I mean it. For the first time in years, the loneliness doesn"t cut quite as deep. With her by my side, maybe, just maybe, the road ahead looks a little less daunting.

"What about you? You going to tell me what you're running from?"

She blinks and then shifts in her seat, clearly uncomfortable.

London bites her lip, a sure sign she"s wrestling with her thoughts. "It"s complicated," she starts, her voice a whisper almost swallowed by the sound of the tires on the highway. "Let"s just say, I"m chasing the freedom to be who I want to be, without looking over my shoulder."

I nod, understanding more than she might think. "Ain"t that the truth for both of us," I murmur. The road keeps rolling beneath us, and there's a comfort in that—the way forward, always clear, straightforward.

Her hand finds mine, small and warm against my rough skin. The connection shocks me, like an electric jolt straight to my heart. She squeezes gently, a wordless thank you for listening, for not pushing too hard.

I squeeze back, letting her know it's alright, that she's safe here with me. "We've all got ghosts, darlin'," I tell her softly. "Sometimes it feels good to outrun ‘em for a while."

The silence that follows isn't awkward—it's filled with unspoken understandings and shared secrets tucked away in the corners of my cab. It feels heavy and light all at once. London relaxes against her seat, watching the night landscape blur past us.

And then I hear the faint sounds of her snoring, and I smile as a tenderness blooms in my chest. I glance over at her, and a fierce protectiveness wells up within me. I scarcely know her, but I already know one thing for sure.

I would do anything for this little pink-haired girl.

Mylittle pink-haired girl.