Page 32 of True Ruin

Justin simply stared, his eyes wide, the same green as Dallas’s in the fading sun. He didn’t seem to know what to do with finally being let in.

Then again, Justin True had never met a last word he didn’t want to take.

“You have to decide what life you want, Dal. Just like I did. Just like she does.” He shrugged, working hard to make his advice seem casual. “Maybe it’s only fun. But don’t shut it down before it’s had time to be real.”

“You always this insufferable after a breakthrough?” Dallas asked and slammed the door before his brother could say more.

TEN

Everlong–Foo Fighters

By Friday afternoon,Sam was checked in at the Children’s Center sleepover, Gabi had managed to fit two nights’ worth of hope and questionable judgment into one small backpack, and she stood on her porch pretending she hadn’t come outside five minutes early to listen for an engine. Beside the steps, the potted mums sagged in ceramic pots she and Sam had painted last summer, their leaves giving off a faint, bitter-green smell. Across the street, a sprinkler ticked over Mr. Delancey’s fading fall grass. Somewhere a screen door slapped shut.

A memory rose of riding shotgun in her daddy’s rusty ’68 Ford Galaxie, bare legs stuck to the cracked vinyl seat, one hand out the open window while “Brown Eyed Girl” played through the staticky speakers. Her father had sung badly, his wrist hooked over the wheel, the aroma of cigarette smoke and spearmint gum filling the car. Gabi had been young enough to think Promise held everything she’d ever need. Everything she’d everwant.

Then she heard it. Not a car, but the low, rolling growl of a motorcycle.

As Dallas pulled up in front of her house, she realized something. He wasn’t reckless. He wasdeliberate, three moves ahead, always waiting for everyone else to catch up. The man constantly kept her on her toes. She kinda loved it.

He rolled to a stop and killed the engine, one black Doc Marten going to the pavement. His jeans were worn pale at the thighs, his thick leather jacket pulling tight across his shoulders as he unfastened the strap beneath his chin. When he pulled the helmet free, his short dark hair was mussed, flattened at the sides.

Then off came the aviators.

The effect was aggravatingly cinematic. And the sexiest thing she’d ever seen.

Tilting his head with the faintest edge of smugness, he rapped his knuckles against a second helmet strapped behind him, the ring on his finger winking. This explained why he’d told her to pack light but dress heavy. Her jeans were old, her boots new, her jacket vintage. Excitement kicked hard in her stomach, and for one wild second she forgot she was a mother, a business owner, a woman with lists and schedules and two dozen cinnamon rolls to bake for Verna Mae when she got back.

She was simply Gabi Wilder, lost weekend within reach.

She started down the cracked cement walkway, Dallas’s knowing smile doing terrible things to her good sense. It was as if she had a string tied to her wrist, and he was drawing her closer and closer.

Halting at the curb, she gestured to his ankle. “Should I be getting on this thing with an injured man? Without his glasses.”

“Contacts.” Dallas grinned and reached for her backpack. Turning, he stuffed it into the leather saddlebag, then unstrapped the second helmet and held it out to her. “Doctorapproved with the ankle. Honest. Would I ever do anything to endanger you?”

Taking the helmet, she decidedno, she didn’t think he would.

He jacked his thumb toward the saddlebag. “I have another jacket if you don’t think you’ll be warm enough.”

“I’m good.”Great, actually.

Without waiting another minute, Gabi stepped on the footpeg and swung her leg over the motorcycle.Triumph, it said in silver lettering along the fuel tank. Securing the helmet strap under her chin, she settled in behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, knees fit to his hips. His tight exhalation as she molded her body to his made her smile.

She’d show him. She had moves of her own.

“O-kay,” he murmured and put on his helmet. “Hang on, Sparkle.”

At first, it was just a slow roll from the curb, the bike rumbling beneath them. Then he turned onto the main road leading out of town, and the motorcycle picked up speed. Gabi’s breath caught. The wind hit her hard enough to make her laugh, though no one could hear it. Dallas leaned into the first curve, and she leaned with him because she had no choice, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten under her arms. His body shifted with every turn, sure and controlled, and hers had to answer. Had to trust him.

They couldn’t talk. It was instinctive and electric.

And somewhere outside Promise, fields rolling past and the two of them fitting together like puzzle pieces, Gabi stopped thinking so hard.

When they reached the foothills, the air changed, a cool slip under her collar as Dallas turned off, following a narrower lane beneath pines and hardwoods going crimson at the edges. The farms were behind them now, replaced by rocky ditches, the blue shoulders of the mountains in the distance, and streams snakingthrough the brush lining the road. He braked in front of a small cabin tucked off a gravel drive, the sun sliding behind the ridge, a creek chattering somewhere close enough to hear over the low hum of the motorcycle.

Dallas cut the engine, nudging the kickstand down with the heel of his boot. With a yawn, as if this was a ride he took every day, he stretched, muscles shifting delightfully under her hands. Pulling off his helmet, he hooked it over the handlebar. Careful with his ankle, he swung off first, then turned back to her.

The sudden quiet rang in her ears, though her heartbeat raced for an entirely different reason.