Six

"What was Forshtay's deal today?" I ask Dad as I plop in the chair across from his desk. He's usually holed up in his office at the rink for an hour to two after practice, writing down game plays and doing whatever administrative tasks his job calls for. Right now, he's scribbling something down in his planner, only half paying attention to me.

"Hm?"

"Joel," I repeat. "He seemed…weird. Slower than usual or something at practice."

"Wasn't feeling well." He closes his planner, then reaches into his drawer and pulls out a stack of papers. "Hey, could you run this down to Mr. Gregory for me?"

"Sure," I say, scooping them up and standing. "See you for dinner?"

"Definitely." He meets my eyes with his signature smile. "Love you, sugar bug. See you later."

Just as I turn out of his office, he calls out, "You better hurry! Can't be late for class!"

I sink into my shoulders with a full-body cringe, just like every other time he brings up school. I shove my deceit to the back of my mind into the box marked Too Much to Deal with Right Now, and hurry down the hall to the team owner"s office. He's not there, so I leave the stack of paperwork on his desk, then head out to the parking lot.

Something about today's practice is still gnawing at my perpetually curious, type-A brain. Dad said Joel wasn't feeling well, but he didn't seem ill at practice, he just seemed…different. Unlike himself. Even his stride seemed narrower than how he normally skates. He was hesitant, almost. Unsure of himself. Which for some guys can mean an injury is present…

Could he be injured?Gosh, I hope not. He's an integral part of the Dragons' offense.

I brush the thought away, reminding myself that Dad knows his players better than I do. Maybe it really was just due to him not feeling well. Still, sometimes guys get hurt, and then try and hide it from Dad. They don't want to have to sit out for a few games or risk losing their starting position. Injuries for a hockey player can range from mild to career ending, so I get the hesitation to divulge the truth. I make a mental note to ask Gwen about it on Friday when I see her as I leave the rink.

Eighties rock music sounds in the background as I hit my daily word count goal on my laptop. I take a quick sip of my matcha latte as I work through the next part of this scene.

The female main character gets stranded, and the guy is about to see her on the side of the road. But do I want her to be freaking out about losing cell service and not able to call anyone, or do I want her to act cool and collected, waiting for him like she knew he'd show up?

I decide to go with the latter because the banter between these two has been so fun to write. It almost makes me wish for a love story of my own. I roll my eyes with a huff of laughter and set my latte down. Immersing myself back into the story, I lose myself in my characters' dialogue.

The incessant buzzing of my phone jerks me from my flow and I sigh. When I pick it up, I'm not surprised at all to see Thorin's name flash across the screen.

Thorin

My dudes. It's sunny. And almost sixty degrees.

I start to respond when Christian's text comes through.

Christian

True. But some of us have jobs that require regular working hours.

*hand pointing up* What he said.

Thorin

Aw, come on, Chantelle. You're not supposed to take his side. Besides, what's the point of owning a multi-million-dollar company if you can't leave the office in the middle of the day?

Christian

I don't own it. Yet.

Play nice, boys. We can ride later. Sundown at the cliffs?

I check the time on my phone, gauging how much longer I'll have to get my words in if I meet them to ride tonight at six. If I work straight through until four, I should have time to grab a quick dinner and get home to change into all my riding gear. I'm careful to never arrive home before four on Thursdays since my last class would have ended at 3:30.

Once again, that tinge of regret pricks at my conscience.

Thorin

Ooooh, a sunset ride through the winding mountain roads… I'm in.

Caius

Me too.

Christian

See you all then.

Finally, Desmond chimes in.

Des

Just seeing this because Chris is right. Some of us do work. And I can't make it tonight. Exam week. Grading Papers. Have fun without me.

I send the group a kissing emoji and tell Desmond we'll miss him, then let my phone go dark. If I'm going to get all my words in before four, I've got to get going.

"How goes the book?" Sam, the owner of the coffee/bookshop I work in on a regular basis, steps up to my table with a blueberry muffin in hand. "Thought you might need a snack."

I smile up at her and accept the gift. "Thanks. I am a little hungry."

She gestures to my laptop. "You know, sometimes you get so focused you forget to eat. A little thing like you probably shouldn't skip too many meals."

I roll my eyes at my new friend. She's barely bigger than me, though her teased purple hair sits at least three inches high on top of her head.

"I eat," I defend myself. "When I'm actually hungry."

She eyes me skeptically as she backs away, her platform heels hitting the tiles with a slap. "Okay. Sure. But if you need something with more substance, just holler. I'm working on a new chicken panini recipe."

My stomach nearly growls at the bare description. "That sounds really good."

"See?" She points one long, pink-tipped fingernail at me. "Told ya! You're hungry!"

I laugh as she saunters back behind the counter, flipping her hair as she goes. Sam has been one of the best additions to my life since becoming an author.

With Mom at home, I can't stay there. I needed a place to use as my office without tipping her off that I'm not going to school. So, Big Hair Books it is.

The quirky, hole-in-the-wall indie book shop has an eighties' vintage vibe. Old records and posters line the newspaper-style papered walls, and bands like Def Leopard, Warrant, and Mr. Big croon from the overhead speakers. But the coolest part about the shop isn't the vintage aesthetic or even the yummy specialty coffee bar—it's the VHS rental section in the very back of the store.

That little section was the whole reason I found this shop in the first place. Dad still has a VHS player, and as soon as I was old enough to realize why he kept it around, I started trying to find cool movies for him to add to his collection. Could he stream the same videos on his big screen? Sure. But will he? No. Because to him, doing so loses its "charm." And though I might not understand his attitude toward technology, I can still respect it.

I wasn't born in the era of VHS tapes, but to Dad's credit, there really is a certain kind of nostalgia that comes from using old electronics. So whenever I could, I'd pop in here to rent him a movie and buy myself a new indie book. Now, I'm practically a fixture.

Which is why I'm about to pose the idea that formed when Mom told me about her and Dad leaving for the weekend. It springs to mind as Sam approaches again with a plate loaded down with what looks like panini dripping in some kind of sauce next to a stack of kettle-cooked chips.

"You're spoiling me, Sam."

"Got to," she says as she slides the plate toward me. "If I don't, you might find somewhere else to set up shop. Can't have that. Not when I've been telling people that a famous author is about to put my little book shop on the map."

"Stop, you have not."

Her face scrunches up, her expression resembling something between a grimace and a coy smile. "Maybe?"

Her belief in me gives me the courage to ask what's been brewing in my mind for a while. "Hey, do you think that…I don't know…you'd be interested in hosting a book signing here? For me?"

Sam's brown eyes go wide, sparkling with possibilities. "For real? You'd want to do a book signing? Here?"

A nervous laugh escapes me. "Yeah. I mean, I have no clue who would want to show up, if anyone. But I've had lots of people asking for signed copies lately, and I really would like to connect with my readers. Find out if I have any local to the Denver area."

Sam squeezes her hands together, bouncing on her toes. "Yes! I love that idea! I can even do a special on drinks or something that day. Whatever you think will draw more people in."

I'm so touched by Sam's eagerness, it takes effort to swallow back a giddy squeal. "That sounds perfect. Thank you."

She plants both hands on her cheeks as if she's trying to tamp down her smile. "I'm so excited, this is going to be so great. Just wait and see. I'll plan everything; you just pick a date."

Nodding, I drag the plate closer. "Okay. We can work out all the details later, but I'm thinking the weekend after this one."

"That's perfect!" she sing-songs, flitting back behind the counter. "Writing it on my calendar now!"

I take a bite of the panini, letting the sweet and spicy aioli meld with the chicken on my tongue. It's a burst of flavor that has me sighing in delicious relief. "This is so good," I call to her. "You should definitely put this one on the menu."

"Will do!" She's back to singing along with the music as she ducks back into the kitchen, leaving me alone once again.

Now that I've put the idea of a book signing out there, nerves threaten to undo me. Will any readers show up? And if they do, will they want pictures with me? What if they do, and somehow the pictures get plastered all over the internet and my parents find out…?

I shut down the anxious, obsessive thoughts as best I can by using the techniques I read about in some random online article: Try to accept the thoughts. Yes, there's a chance I could be found out. But stop the compulsion to go through every worst-case scenario. I can't let my mind focus on the what-ifs, or I'll never follow the path toward my dreams.

I take a deep breath, then let it out slowly, choosing to focus on the excitement of the opportunity to meet some of my devoted readers. And maybe once I do, it'll give me the courage to face the biggest, most daunting fear in my life—letting my parents know I've failed them by dropping out of school.

For the first time in what feels like months, the sun warms my entire body. My protective gear staves off the slight chill from riding in the wind, allowing me to soak up what rays I can before the sun completely sets.

"This was a good idea, Thor," I say into my helmet mic. Our wireless mics are synced up, so we can talk to each other. Sometimes, like right now, it's fun; other times it's annoying, thanks to Thor's incessant singing and noise making.

"The longer you know me, the more you'll come to realize that I'm full of good ideas." His flirty tone makes me laugh.

"All right, settle down, big boy. And stop slowing down; I'm over riding your tail."

"Fine," he huffs. "So bossy."

"You two okay back there?" Christian asks. He's sort of our little group's unofficial leader. He's got a calm vibe but also feels like he'd be a little scary if you were to cross him. Maybe it's the CEO in him or his protective personality, but it feels natural to follow his lead when we're all together. And for me, that's saying a lot. Because Thor is right—I am bossy.

With Christian in front, Thor second, and Caius and me following behind side-by-side, I lean into the curves we take, letting my muscles get used to the burn of being back on my bike. This sunny weather won't last more than a week or two before the last of winter makes its final stand, but I want to enjoy it while I can.

Riding is one of the only things that gives me a sense of complete and total freedom. Most days, I feel like a prisoner to the lie I've trapped myself in. The one that gives me the ability to do what I love but also keeps me feeling like a complete and utter closeted failure of a daughter. And my obsessive tendencies always have me feeling like a stranger in my own body. There"s a constant pull between with my thoughts and ritualistic actions. Which is why I crave order and neatness. It's a compulsion and also a sort of safety net.

But riding my motorcycle? It's so much more than that. Methodical and predictable, yes. It soothes and engages all my senses at the same time so I don't have the mental capacity to overthink or overanalyze. It's also wild and a little reckless. I just ride and let the worries of the day melt away with the passing breeze.

The sun sinks lower on the horizon, and as we crest the next hill, the city lights below create a spectacular scene.

"Wow," Thorin breathes. "Would you look at that."

"Beautiful." I can't help but agree with him. Living in Colorado has its perks, even if it's unbearably cold for part of the year.

"Almost as beautiful as you," Thorin adds, and I can almost picture the smirk on his face.

"Would you give it a rest?" Caius cuts in, revving up beside Thorin.

"What?" Thorin has the audacity to act offended. "Just practicing my rizz. Chantelle knows I'm kidding."

I grin because I do. Thorin's your typical flirty puppy dog type and resembles a redheaded lumberjack. He's handsome but not really my type, and I don't think I'm his, either. He needs someone a little more laid back. I'd probably kill him if we ever dated.

None of the other guys have ever tried to flirt with me, though I'll admit I find them all attractive, Christian taking a slight lead over the others. But he's told me before that I remind him of his sister, which is probably the worst buzz kill I've ever heard for a romantic relationship.

Besides, he's pretty closed-off, and I'm not really looking for anyone anyway. Part of me hasn't recovered from my last relationship with hockey hotshot, Lex Jones. We dated my entire senior year of high school and even into college, bonding over hockey.

I played on the girls' team, he on the guys, and we'd scrimmage with each other just for fun. Our relationship made sense because we ran in the same circles and got along great. Even my dad fell fast for Lex. He mentored him, helped him, invested in him. There were no official promises made about Lex signing with the Dragons, but I know Dad wanted him on the team.

It wasn't even that hard to overlook his excessive flirty nature with other girls since I chalked it up to us being young. But when he had zero problems signing with a team in another state and condensing our entire relationship down to some paltry line like, hit me up whenever you're in the area, I knew he wasn't the one.

I was obviously more invested in our relationship than he was. I still don't know whether he used me to get close to my dad for his hockey expertise or if he genuinely had feelings for me.

Either way, he broke my heart. I used to refuse to admit that. It felt foolish and way too vulnerable. But I've learned a thing or two from searching those random OCD sites in my free time. Things like it's okay to own the truth.

And the truth is, Lex broke me in more ways than one.

He used to tell me my obsessive thoughts were annoying, even going so far as to accuse me of being prudish when I couldn't relax enough to make out with him. I've never felt more self-conscious than those times when we were alone.

But even more than that, he'd downplay my worries and call me childish if I asked a lot of questions. It didn't take me long to accept that he liked me better if I was quiet and pretending to be confident. Now, I'd give almost anything to go back and convince my younger self that I deserved better than a guy like Lex.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I now hold every guy who takes an interest in me suspect. I'm also not above saying I don't find flirty guys like Thorin appealing, not after enduring Lex's wandering eyes.

See? Look at me owning the truth of why I'm not dating like a boss.

If only I could own the truths relating to my new career…

We descend the hill, and Christian zigzags in a little showy move that I bet all his subscribers will love. The little camera on his bike records him as he rides, then later he edits and uploads everything to his social media. Like me, he keeps his true identity a secret. But for him, it's more for his safety. You wouldn't believe the types of messages he gets from feral, moto-man crazed women.

"Let's fill up," he says through his mic, and we all follow him to the nearest gas station. Once parked, Caius steps up and begins to fill my tank like a true gentleman.

"Thanks," I say, genuinely grateful. These guys might treat me like a sister, but they're kind to a fault. Sort of like my Dragons. Once again, I'm confused about how I can be surrounded by so many attractive men on a regular basis and not have at least one I'm romantically interested in.

Maybe something's wrong with me…

"You good?" Caius asks, breaking me out of the negative thought pattern before it takes off.

"Yeah. Just tired." He flips up the visor on his helmet and eyes me.

"Hey, Chris. Little sis is tired."

Christian hangs the nozzle on the pump, then stalks over.

"I'm fine," I assure him. "Just…I don't know. Having a weird night, I guess." By now, Thorin has sauntered up, his burly arms crossed over his chest.

"What's the matter?"

I give each of them a long look, wondering why in the world I feel compelled to divulge my secret to them. I haven't even told Ronnie! She's not just my best friend, she's practically my big sister. Yet it scares the words right out of me every time I think about telling her. Ronnie's so successful, educated and poised to do amazing things. And right now, I just need a little…commiserating with someone who might get it.

"Have you guys ever had a secret before?" I finally ask. "One that you're afraid to tell those you're closest to because you're scared of how they'll take it?"

Each of them shares a look before Christian clears his throat. "Yeah, sure. Is that what's going on?"

I shrug, then lift my helmet off and run a hand down my braid. "Yeah. I, uh…I'm sort of...a closet romance author."

I don't tell them the scariest part: that I quit school to pursue my passion. It doesn't feel right to blurt it out to them before I've even told Ronnie.

Caius and Christian go still while Thor's face lights up. "Dude, that's so awesome, Chantelle! Seriously? You write romance books?"

"Shh." I motion for him to quiet down and swat at his arm. "You're so loud, the inside staff probably heard you."

He ducks with a chagrined smile. "Sorry, but I just think that's cool, you know?" Before anyone else can chime in with their thoughts, he continues. "If you ever need any inspiration for your male heroes, you're free to pick my brain." He raises his arms behind his head, nonchalantly flexing his biceps. "I mean, I feel like I've got male main character potential."

Caius scoffs while Christian just shakes his head. "So no one else knows this about you, I take it?" Our unofficial leader tilts his head at me, curious.

"No," I say with a sigh. "No one but you guys and the girl who owns the bookstore I write at every day."

"Then why tell us?" Caius asks.

"I don't know. Probably because the guilt of keeping it all to myself is eating away at me, and our real lives don't really intersect at all." And they've had my back more than once while riding. I have no doubt they'd support me if I ever needed them in a real-life sort of way. I look each of them in the eye. "I trust you guys."

"Thanks for trusting us," Christian says. "And I'm sorry you don't feel like you're able to tell anyone you're close to about it. If you ever need to vent, we're here." I nod as he continues. "As far as what to do about the guilt…" He shakes his head and splays his gloved hands. "Not sure I can help you there."

"You see, Chantelle," Thor cuts in. "Christian currently has a cinder block in the spot where emotions are supposed to live. We've tried to get him to see a doctor about it, but he's adamant that he enjoys being emotionally stunted."

Christian punches Thorin hard in the arm, but the Greek god doesn't even budge. Instead, he laughs harder.

"Maybe you should pray about it," Caius says. "Ask God what to do. If your secret is hurting your relationships with those around you, I think He'd want you to come clean. Even if you aren't blatantly lying." I meet my friend's eyes and frown.

I am blatantly lying to my parents, but he doesn't need to know that.

"I'm sure you're right," I say, knowing deep in my bones that he is.

He flips his visor down and shrugs. "Well, not to be redundant, but I usually am."

I chuckle as the guys give him a hard time while we get back on our bikes. Just like every time when we near the end of our ride, the guys follow me toward home, where I veer off into my parents' drive. They then head back their separate ways. I wave as I make the turn off, content after such a nice ride.

I stroll into the house after parking in the garage and find Dad sitting in his chair in the family room. He peeks up at me over his book and smiles. "Have a nice time?"

"Yeah, it was relaxing. As usual." I step toward him, and he pats the arm of the chair for me to sit. I do, snuggling closer when he wraps an arm around my waist. "I'm excited for the weather to turn warm so we can do that more often. It feels good to have other people to ride with."

"I admit, I was a little concerned when you said you met a group of guys at a red light last summer." I laugh, and he smiles good-naturedly. "But they seem to have your best interests at heart."

"Yeah," I say, feeling a weird, unbidden, and totally uncalled for surge of tears. "They definitely do."

"So…are any of them your…you know…boyfriend?" Dad blinks and looks away, clearly uncomfortable.

"Ah, no." I immediately stand, already feeling strange about the direction of this conversation. "They're all just friends. Like the guys on the team."

He dips his chin once. "Still hung up on Jones?"

Scoffing, I shake my head. "No, Dad. It's not like that. Just focused on other things right now. Don't have time for a guy."

His expression relaxes. "Thatta' girl. Get that degree first, then worry about settling down."

The all-consuming guilt is back, threatening to swallow me whole. "Right," I squeak, then clear my throat. "I think I'm going to take a shower and head to bed. Love you, Dad."

"Love you too, sugar bug. Night."

I turn on my heel and massage my temples, wishing things were different. I feel as if I completely messed up by pursuing this indie author thing without talking to him first. But what if I had waited and things didn't take off like they did? It seems like my book hit the market at just the right time to be a best-seller. Knowing that, it's hard to look back and feel regret.

Yet knowing how hurt my dad will be when I tell him I abused his good faith and wasted the money he invested in my schooling, it's hard not to do anything else.