Page 79 of Breakaway

The sound of the door closing sends goosebumps all over my skin. Pushing myself off of the kitchen counter, I slowly stroll out of the kitchen. Our eyes meet the second I step into the living room. The crazy things my heart does in my chest whenever I see him don’t surprise me anymore. They scare me, because I know he isitfor me, but he doesn’t see me like that.

“Hey.” I walk toward him and stop a few feet away from him. His face looks even worse now. His busted bottom lip and black eye are dead giveaways as to how brutal that hit was.

“Hey, Malyshka,” he says. Distress worms its way into my head, and my hands become clammy. Stepping closer, Roman puts his finger under my chin and raises my face to him. His gaze roams over me, and a faint smile crosses his lips. “Everything’s fine. I’ll be good as new sooner than you think.”

The corner of my mouth trembles as I fiddle with my fingers. “Why did you get into a fight with that player? Was it some?—”

“He thought it was okay to talk shit about my wife. I just taught him a lesson,” Roman replies, unbothered, while my heart skips a beat. His words only confirm my suspicions. He got into a fight because of me. “Let’s go for a ride,” he suddenly says.

“A ride?” I repeat, a tornado of emotions brewing inside me.

“Fancy a ride on my Kawasaki?”

My lips part, and I watch him in silence. Then, swallowing my nerves, I nod. “I’d love to.”

“Good. Then go change.” Roman steps back and turns to go to his room. “I’m going to change too. The collar of this shirt feels like a noose.”

I don’t ask questions, don’t let myself overthink his desire to get out of the house. Wheeling around, I go to my bedroom, where I still keep my clothes. I wonder what I should wear for a motorcycle ride. It will be my first.

“Here.”Roman hands me a black helmet with pink stripes. I take it, studying it quizzically. “I got it for you,” he says, and my heart starts to pummel in my chest, bringing heat to my cheeks. He got a helmet…for me.

“Thank you so much.”

Roman nods, takes my hand, and makes me follow him to a black motorcycle that’s parked beside his BMW. He climbs onto it and glances at me over his shoulder. “Have you ever ridden a motorcycle?” I shake my head no, and he crooks a smile. “I’m honored to be your first.”

I roll my eyes, and he puts his helmet on. I put mine on too before climbing on behind him. I take a deep breath, trying to calm my nerves. I trust Roman, but it’s a bit nerve-racking anyway.

“Wrap your arms around me and hold on tight,” Roman says, and I instantly do as he tells me.

He leans forward and starts the motorcycle. I don’t have time to fully comprehend what’s going on before he’s driving away from the parking lot. My whole body is trembling as excitement mixes with something really close to fear. There’s so much energy under me, the engine roaring. Little by little, Roman picks up speed. I hold on to him. The heat of his body radiates through his checkered shirt and sets my skin on fire. With a surprise, I realize that after a few minutes on the motorcycle, all my thoughts about the article, about his fight, are no longer bothering me.

All I can think about is the man I have my arms around and the freedom that this ride gives me. It’s a blessing.

When Roman stops, I unwrap my arms and climb off his motorcycle. My legs are shaking so much it’s hard to stand. I take off my helmet and instantly find myself face-to-face with my favorite turquoise color. His crooked grin and amused gaze send a delicious thrill down my spine. He’s still the most handsome man in the world…and he’s mine.

“How do you feel?” he asks, reaching over and taking my hand in his.

“Good.” Roman glances at me, arching an eyebrow. “The ride was amazing.”

“Happy to hear that.” He pulls me toward a bench a few feet away. It’s perched at the top of a hill; the whole city comes into view, all city lights and dark blue sky. It’s magnificent, and I can’t take my eyes off of it as I sit beside Roman.

“I love this spot,” he says. “Found it a year ago, on a ride. I try to come here once in a while; it helps me sort out my thoughts.”

“That’s why we’re here? So you can sort out your thoughts?”

“We’re here to talk and enjoy the view.” Roman gives me a pointed look. “I think the secrets we are keeping from each other will keep biting us in the ass if we don’t get them out in the open.”

I fold my arms over my chest, not saying anything and just staring in front of me. He’s right, and I’m kinda surprised he’s not angry with me. We’ve talked about his past so many times, while I never said anything about mine except for a brief mention of my parents.

I wanted him to open up, but I never really did the same in return. It’s hypocritical.

“My mom doesn’t know I still have this motorcycle,” he says. “I told her I got rid of it.”

“Why?”

“Mom worries about me.” Roman shrugs. “She already lost one son in a car crash, so it was hard for her when I told her I got a car. She accepted it, obviously, but with my Kawasaki? That was probably the first time in my life she yelled at me. I didn’t know my mom could cuss so much.”

I chuckle. “We all curse when we’re angry.”

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