Page 90 of Exposing Colorado

“Then why’d you act like it never happened?”

I drop my gaze, feeling exposed. Like I’ve been splayed open and my internal organs are breathing in the night air. “Because if I let it mean something, I lost everything. At least, that's how I saw it at the time. I'm still scared of what Mom and Dad will think of me, but I'm tired of living like this. I just wanna be… me.”

Something shifts in his expression as he pulls me close. “So now what?”

The movement causes him to sway a little, and I frown, supporting him by his biceps. “Now, we get you home so I can see how bad your wounds are. Jesus Christ, you're over here bleeding out and I'm just moaning about my sob story.”

“I can make you moan if you want,” he snickers, leaning in like he's trying to kiss me. Instead, he pitches forward and nearly takes me down in the process.

“Woah, Dev, shit.” I lower him to the ground with a curse. “Let me call another Uber to get us back to the RV.”

“Not leaving my bike,” he grumbles, shaking his head like he's trying to clear it.

“Too bad. You probably worsened your concussion. Might actually have the driver take us to the hospital instead.”

“I’m not leaving the bike,” he slurs again, eyes half-lidded but stubborn as hell. “She’s all I’ve got left.”

I glance between him and the Ducati irritably. “You’re bleeding. You can’t drive.”

“Then you drive.”

“I don’t know how to drive a damn motorcycle, Dev.”

“You play video games. Same concept.”

“That’s not how it works!”

But he’s already shoving the keys into my hand with trembling fingers as he gets to his feet again. Clearly ready to fight me on this.

“Fine,” I grit out, marching over to the damn thing. “It’s your funeral. Literally."

“One can only hope,” he laughs weakly.

I swing my leg over the seat, and once I get my bearings, I motion for him to climb on. His arms loop around my waist, face pressing into my shoulder while his thighs warm the sides of my own. When he tries to shove the helmet on my head, I push him away. “I'm not the one with a head injury. You use it.”

He gives in easily, sliding the helmet on with a shrug. “Whatever you want, love.”

“Now tell me what to do,” I mutter, twisting the throttle carefully. A shocked yelp bursts from my throat when the bike lurches forward.

Devon’s laughter vibrates against my back. “Slow and steady, Speed Racer.”

“Where the fuck are your headlights!”

“Your wife bashed them in. Left hand’s the clutch, squeeze it when you shift gears. Right foot’s your rear brake, easy on that or we’re eating asphalt.”

“Fantastic,” I snap. “Can’t wait to die with you tonight.”

“At least we aren't dying alone.”

Those words rip a hole in my chest, but I focus on the road so I don’t kill us both. It takes me a few clumsy tries, but with Dev's mumbled instructions, I eventually get the hang of things. We won’t be winning any races, that's for sure, but I can at least get us home.

We ride in silence for a long stretch, the wind slicing between us, cooling my heated skin. His grip on me stays tight, but I can feel the weight of his exhaustion sagging more with each mile.

Somewhere between the trees and the glow of the city ahead, he lurches to the side, causing me to jerk the handlebars. “Fuck! Dev, sit up!”

His arms fall from my waist, and I attempt to steer with one hand while I grasp for him.

“Devon!” My heart leaps into my throat. “Hey, wake up, man!”