Page 20 of Cocky Secrets

“It’s the law.”

“Fuck the law!” To me Dad says, “Gonna see what she can do,” and then he adds to Bear, “Keep an eye on my girl for me.”

I swallow deeply.

Bear answers, “Will do.”

As Dad drives off, I’m wishing he’d come right back so we can get out of here and get this over with! Fuck the law?! He has no idea he just said that to a cop. Nervously I call out, “How is it?!” while he’s still within hearing distance. I want to shout,Don’t leave me with this man who’s pissed off at me, and who I want to tear the clothes off of!

“So far so good,” Dad shouts. “Gonna see her at full power.” He speeds off down the street, the sound of Bear’s Harley echoing in the distance until Dad disappears, turning left onto the main road.

Silence.

Even the birds are quiet.

The atmosphere shifts now that we have no buffer, leaving me standing awkwardly next to Bear, who’s got his work boots spread, everything about him radiating an easy confidence that makes my heart flutter.

He breaks the silence, “How have you been?”

I glance to him, surprised by the odd question. “I’ve been good. Just, you know, busy.” I can’t help but feel like I’m caught in a web of guilt and uncertainty, the web he wants me in.

Bear nods, and I try to discern what he’s thinking from his expression but it’s unreadable. “That’s good to hear. Staying busy is important,” he says.

There’s a pregnant pause between us, tension crackling in the air. I want to say something,anything,about my not showing up, but the words get stuck in my throat. I focus on the driveway, the solid concrete below my boots, trying to distract myself from how my heart feels like it might implode.

Can I disappear now?

I look down the street, listen for the engine. No luck.

Bear comments, “Your dad seems excited,” stance immovable and powerful like a cross-armed superhero.

I reply a heavy, “Yeah, he loves motorcycles,” not sure why Bear is keeping this up, the inane conversation, and notinsteadreading me the riot act about standing him up. Okay, I’ll play along. “He wants to get me one.”

Bear chuckles softly, as if at an inside joke. He’s silent for a few seconds, then, “It’s a great feeling, being out on the open road. Freedom, you know?”

I glance to him, “That’s exactly what it is,” but all I can think about is how being here feels like standing on the edge of a cliff. I want to leap off, to apologize, but I’m having trouble finding the words or even being able to speak properly. There’s thiselectricitybetween us. Chemistry. Or maybe, for him, it’s justthe underscoring electric charge of unspoken anger on his part that he’s yet to divulge.

He has a right to be angry.

I can’t blame him.

He should be.

But if I start to tell him I’m sorry, and show him how much I mean it, I’m afraid I’ll walk closer to him, touch him, and if I touch him I won’t want to stop.

“The Ciphers?”

I blink up to Bear. “What?”

“Your dad’s jacket.”

“Oh.” My mind races.Have to keep their secret.“Just a motorcycle club,” I shrug. “Just a group of…riders.” Yep, just boring motorcycle enthusiasts…not heroes who sometimes kill people when necessary in order to save the innocent, and get away with it because cops never know.Younever know.

“I’ve heard of them.”

I stare at Bear, shock waves ripping through me. “You have?”

“People in town like them.”

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