With a deep breath, I kiss her forehead and murmur, “Come on Angel, you ready to soar again?”
“Yeah,” she whispers, “I think I am.”
As we get back on my bike, I wonder if she was talking about more than the feeling of the wind wrapping around her again as we roar down the road. I can only hope. But I’ll make sure I’m right there at her side whenever she’s ready to take another step.
There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
CHAPTER 11
GRAYCIE
I can’t stop feeling Turner’s lips moving against mine even a day later. It felt like everything in my world slowed to a stop, because nothing would dare move while my soul was realigning to be in tune with his. While it makes no sense, and I barely know the man, I’ve come to realize that maybe it’s not supposed to make sense.
Maybe this feeling isn’t supposed to be something easy toexplain or brush away. Is that what makes it real? Or is that what makes it a delusion which is safer than my reality?
When Turner promised to keep me safe and that he would wait until I’m ready to share my secrets, I believed him.
Even though it’s scary and feels almost impossible, I believe he would put himself on the line to ensure my safety.
I never would have thought a biker could be so sweet.
But Turner is. At least with me.
Seeing Dogwood Ridge like I did last night, from the overlook I didn’t even know was there, made it feel like the life I’ve been building could be real and could last. I’ve been clinging to that feeling all day because the alternative, of needing to run because Sylvester won’t let me go and is closing in, makes me want to scream.
For the first time in so damn long, I don’t want to run anymore. I want to stay. I want to build something that lasts.
And the promises in Turner’s gray eyes call to me and make me believe in something when the world has given me far too many lies and half-truths to sort through.
I’ve been home from the bakery for a little while, but I’m restless where normally I’m just exhausted. I know why, too.
It’s because the feeling of being so close to Turner, of being pressed against his back and leaning with his body through every turn, is right there under my skin. It buzzes; the connection between us, begging to be fortified, begging for one more look.
But other than a good morning text waiting for me when I got up, I haven’t heard from him. He could be playing hard to get or he could have figured out I’m not really worth all the trouble.
It’s probably for the best that he figures it out now.
Because I don’t know when I’ll feel ready to really try with Turner and that’s exactly what he asked me for last night—a chance. As much as I want to give it to him, what happens when he gets frustrated with waiting? What happens if I’m never able to give him what he needs, wants, or deserves?
I’m too broken.
I’m too burdened by the past.
I’m too lost in the shadows.
Honestly, I hoped to see him today since I hadn’t heard anything about Dolly’s car being ready or what the plan was. Stan took me into work this morning since our schedules aren’t that far off. Lara didn’t mind me coming in a little later than normal. It’s not something I make a habit of, and she really could get the bakery opened without my help.
I think she just likes another person being there with her and I can’t exactly blame her for it. With only your thoughts as company while kneading dough or doling out ingredients it can get a little lonely.
When I stepped through the back door of Bunz Out, I had almost convinced myself that Turner would be waiting there for me. He wasn’t. Disappointment hit me square in the chest and had me staggering back a step.
I couldn’t dwell on the feeling; it wouldn’t have done any good anyway.
Before I can spiral even deeper into my unhelpful and, frankly, morose thoughts, there’s a knock on my door. From the pattern of it, I already know who it is from my spot on the couch. I also know she won’t go away until I answer.
Which is the only reason why I drag my ass up off the couch and head toward the door. Just as I reach it, Opal knocks again and I groan out, “Hold your horses, I’m coming.”
Her smile is wide when I swing the door open, knowing full well I probably look like a cat who went a few rounds with a shower and lost. Not only did this morning come far too early, but I’ve been an emotional wreck since the moment I closed the door after my ‘date that wasn’t a date’ with Turner.