On our way out, Naomi wraps her in a gentle hug and promises to come by in a few days’ time. Her dad, who’s given me two disapproving looks, and has managed to mutter a single, “hey” wanders over to us. He gives Holly a hug then reaches out for my hand. I clasp my hand with his and give him a nod.
“Take care of my girl,” he says stiffly.
“Always,” I say.
Holly and I walk across the parking lot to my bike, Ian stands back in the distance. He has the SUV if she chooses to opt out of riding with me. I rub her back and place a kiss to her temple. “You don’t have to do this.”
“I want to,” she says with more determination in her voice than I expect.
“She’s loud,” I warn her. Sweets knows my Harley is noisy—all ours are—but I don’t want to scare her. I grab our helmets from the handlebars and hand hers to her.
“I know. I’ll just pretend it’s you snoring next to me,” she quips. For a moment, my Holly is there. She’s snarky and raising an eyebrow. A smirk plays at her lips, and her brown eyes gleam. Placing a kiss to her cheek, I leave her where she’s at and swing my leg over my bike. We’re still new and because of everything, Sweets has yet to ride with me. Today will be her first if she follows through with it.
With my helmet on and my eyes fixed with Holly’s, I bring the bike to life. Holly jumps in place, but doesn’t retreat. She straps her helmet on her head and awkwardly climbs on behind me. Her arms wrap around my waist, and her helmet rests against my spine.
“You good?” I ask.
“Yes!” she shouts. I need no further instruction as I rev the engine and we bolt out of the parking lot. I want to take a scenic route, or even just say fuck it and make a day trip out of it. But that would be pushing it and I don’t want her panicking on the highway. So I take us straight home. We sail through the wind and down the streets just like I always do. It’s nothing I haven’t done a million times before, but it’s different with her behind me. Her grip is tight, and I can feel the worried pattern of the rise and fall of her chest, but she doesn’t complain. Despite the horrors inside her head, she’s strong and refuses to let the demons get the best of her.
We roll up to the house, and I cut the engine. Nobody else has made it home yet, and that suits me just fine. I need a few minutes alone with Sweets anyway.
On our way inside, I notice that she’s less twitchy than she was at the restaurant. She doesn’t like to be alone, but too many people don’t sit well with her, either. She insists that she’s ready to go back to work, but I keep making excuses to keep her home. She’s just not ready yet. She needs more time to heal. She can’t see it, but she’s still a disaster.
We set our helmets down on the kitchen counter. She moves for the living room, but I reach out and grab her hand. Turning back, she stares at me curiously.
“Come here, baby,” I say quietly. For the first week we didn’t have sex once. I just jacked off in my bathroom like a fucking kid. I can’t blame her for not wanting to do anything sexual after the shit she saw. In the last week, it was twice. Both times were slow and easy. Still satisfying, just not what I’m used to. And as much as I’d love to bend her over and drill her from behind, she needs gentle. She needs me to be the man she deserves, not the asshole I’m used to getting away with being.
So instead of putting the moves on her, I pull her against me and step to the side. My hands are on her hips and she tosses her arms around my neck. She fumbles awkwardly before moving to the side as well. I do it again, and again she follows in confusion. By the third step, she finally catches on and the smile that spreads across her face is so fucking beautiful.
“We’re dancing,” she whispers. It won’t last, but she’s so carefree. I want to remember this for the next time things go bad.
“Keep your mouth shut about it,” I say. She smirks.
“Where did you learn how to dance?”
“Bee Scouts with Chey. Only people who know I took her to that dance are Chey, my mom, and now you.”
“You’ll do anything for her, won’t you?” she asks.
“I’d do anything for you, too, Sweets. If I could, I’d take away all the fucked up shit that swims inside your head.”
“No,” she whispers and stops in place. “It’s okay.” What does she mean by that? It’s absolutely not fucking okay. Not on any plane of existence is it o-fucking-kay. The shit she went through is not okay.
“I’m going to work through this. I will. I just did what I had to do. I’d do it again,” she says.
“What are you talking about?”
“I love you,” she says. Her eyes search mine for acceptance, I think. Leaning in, I cup her face in my hands and kiss her deeply, but softly.
A knock sounds at the door, causing her to jerk away. I let go of her and turn for the door. Checking the window, I find Duke standing on the porch. He’s got his hands shoved in his pockets and a thoughtful expression on his face.