Page 11 of Reclaiming Venom

“Something like that. I just need a night or so. Get my bearings a bit more,” I said. I could see the hurt in her eyes and it gutted me. It was clear we’d had a good life together, and that we’d loved each other. But right now, I wasn’therVenom. I knew there was a chance I may never be that man again. It felt like she was latching on, needing the husband she remembered. I worried if we took things too fast, she’d end up getting hurt.

She nodded. “All right. Whatever you think is best.”

I kissed her cheek, wishing I could take all her pain away. If only I knew how…

Chapter Three

Venom

The door burst open, flooding the dimly lit room with sunlight. Ridley strode in, her blonde hair a halo around her face. Her every movement shouted her determination. I squinted, caught off guard by her sudden appearance and the intensity radiating from her petite frame.

“Rise and shine, big guy!” she exclaimed, her voice carrying a note of excitement that seemed at odds with the unfamiliar surroundings. “We’ve got plans today.”

I hesitated, my mind still foggy with sleep and confusion. The room, with its generic furnishings and gray walls, felt alien. Even though we were apparently married, I hadn’t felt right staying in the master bedroom. Instead, I’d decided to sleep in the guest room.

Ridley’s infectious enthusiasm tugged at something deep within me, a half-remembered sensation of warmth and belonging.

“Plans?” I grunted, my voice rough from disuse.

Ridley’s smile widened, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh yes, Mr. Grumpy Pants. We’re going on an adventure.”

I raised an eyebrow, torn between skepticism and an inexplicable urge to follow her lead. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I’m not exactly…”

“Not exactly what?” she challenged, hands on her hips. “Are you thinking you’re too old? Too forgetful? Too stubborn?”

Her words stung, but there was no malice behind them. Instead, I sensed a fierce protectiveness, a determination to drag me back into the world -- her world -- whether I was ready or not.

“Fine,” I conceded, pushing myself up from the bed. “Let me get dressed.”

Ridley’s triumphant grin was almost worth the discomfort of agreeing to this unknown excursion. As I changed, I caught her watching me, a mixture of longing and sadness in her eyes that made my chest tighten with an emotion I couldn’t name.

We stepped outside, the bright sunlight momentarily blinding me. As my vision cleared, I saw it -- my motorcycle, gleaming in the morning light. The sight of it stirred something primal within me, a surge of recognition that cut through the fog of uncertainty.

“Ready to ride?” Ridley asked, her voice soft and hopeful.

I nodded, unable to speak past the lump in my throat. My hands found the handlebars, the grips familiar against my calloused palms. I swung my leg over the seat, the weight and balance of the machine as natural as breathing.

When I’d first woken in the hospital, I hadn’t realized how weak I’d become. Before I’d gotten to come home, I’d had to go through physical therapy. If I hadn’t done that, I had a feeling I wouldn’t be able to ride right now. As much as I’d hated every second of being there, it had been the right call.

The engine roared to life beneath me, a deep, throaty rumble that resonated in my bones. It was a sound I knew, a part of me I hadn’t realized was missing until this moment. Ridley climbed on behind me, her arms wrapping around my waist with practiced ease.

As we pulled away from the house, I felt a glimmer of something long forgotten -- freedom, possibility, and the intoxicating promise of the open road.

We exited the compound and she pointed to the right, taking us away from town. I didn’t know what she had up her sleeve, but I was willing to find out.

The wind whipped against my face as we tore down the highway, the rhythmic thrum of the engine pulsing through my body. Ridley’s arms tightened around my waist, her warmth seeping into my back.

My mind raced with questions, each turn of the wheels bringing a new uncertainty to the forefront. Who was I really? What life had I forgotten? But with each mile that passed, the anxiety began to ebb, replaced by the soothing cadence of the ride.

“You okay?” Ridley’s voice carried over the roar of the wind, concern lacing her words.

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Her presence behind me anchored me to the moment, a tether to a life I was struggling to remember.

After what felt like both an eternity and mere minutes, we pulled into the parking lot of a quaint roadside diner. The neonOPENsign flickered in the window, casting a warm glow on the weathered exterior.

As I cut the engine, Ridley slid off the bike with grace. She turned to me, her eyes bright with an emotion I couldn’t quite decipher. Without a word, she reached out and took my hand, her fingers intertwining with mine as if they’d done so a thousand times before.

The ease of the gesture caught me off guard, a jolt of electricity shooting up my arm at her touch. I followed her lead, allowing her to guide me toward the entrance.

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