Page 17 of Filthy and Dirty with the Bikers

“And this girl. She, like… didn’t care about you or all the things you had going on? You broke your collarbone! You’d think she’d be all over you with love and homemade soup.”

He laughs under his breath. “Like I said, she wasn’t exactly who I thought she was.”

“You should,” my stomach turns and hot saliva swirls on my tongue, “pull over!” I manage the words as nausea creeps up my throat.

Maybe I need to see a doctor too. My stomach is insane lately.

Maverick pulls the truck to the side of the road, parking next to a grove of thick pine trees and a bank of snow that’s piled high. I swing open the door, hop down, and crunch two feet into the snow before I’m bent over vomiting.

What the hell?

Heave after heave spills everything I had for breakfast onto the pure white snow. I’m not sure I’ve ever been more embarrassed, though if I sit and think about it long enough, I could probably come up with something. I’m pretty sure this beats the time I was carrying a vase of flowers into a wedding, and I tripped and fell in the center of the aisle with a church full of people watching, though that was pretty bad.

Maverick’s thick hand lands on my back and he rubs gently against the small curve as I bend forward, holding my stomach. “You’re okay.” He hands me a napkin and a bottle of water as though he prepared for this moment. “You drank a lot last night. I’m sure you’ll be sick all day today.”

Ididdrink last night. More than I have in ages. “I’m not sure. I’ve been getting sick a lot lately. I think it’s stress. I Googled it.”

He lands his palm on the back of his neck as he says, “What does Google say will help?”

I shake my head. “Something stupid like to stop stressing. I also think it said I should carry peppermint and do some exercise. I don’t know because I haven’t done any of it.”

“Well, if it’s stress, I think you’ve just done something huge to get rid of it. Maybe after the alcohol works its way through your system, you’ll be good to go. Do you have your feathers with you? I know you like to keep the bluebird one in your pocket to fidget with when you’re stressed.”

I don’t remember talking to Maverick about my feathers, or more specifically the bluebird feather I keep with me when I’m stressed. No one knows that but Tyler. Then again, the vodka I drank last night was telling Rhett and Maverick lots of things about me I’d never told anyone.

“No. How did you know about the feathers?”

“Oh.” He clears his throat and looks back toward the truck as a gust of wind blows a frigid breeze between us. “Yeah… Rhett or someone. You collect them, right?”

“All kinds. I have a shelf full of them.”

“Which one do you like the best?”

“I don’t know. I guess they all mean something different, but my favorite is the bluebird feather. I found it when I came back from this sabbatical to visit my brother last year. I thought I was going to run then, but I ended up coming back. The feather was on my doorstep when I got home.”

“What does a bluebird feather mean?” He leans forward slightly, widening his broad shoulders.

“Renewal and hope,” I laugh. “At the time, I thought it was meant to tell me I should stay and that everything was going to be okay, that he’d learned his lesson. Now, I realize the universe was trying to tell me to run.”

His hand lands on my back again and he guides me up toward the truck, helping me inside. “I’m not sure I believe in fate, but I believe we all end up where we’re supposed to be.”

“Isn’t that fate?”

“No. Fate assumes there’s a predestined law in life. I think all this shit is random. It’s the randomness that makes it that much better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if that storm up in Wyoming had happened a week later, I’d still be there, and you’d be stalled out on a snowy road,throwing up all by yourself this morning. I don’t think that’s fate. I think that’s random shit. Random shit we’re both thankful for.”

I laugh as he closes the door and rounds to the driver’s side. “You just described fate.”

He puts the truck in drive and pulls back out onto the road, focusing on the single lane highway that twists around the side of the mountain. I’ll never understand why they don’t put more guardrails up here. So many people go flying off the edge this time of year alone. Black ice is some real sneaky shit.

Maverick nods slowly. “You think it was fate that you ended up with some asshole who ruined your life? And please don’t tell me he taught you something because that’s bullshit.”

“Okay…” I sigh as we round to the quarry at the edge of town before turning down a winding road of manufactured homes that have acres of land covered with acres of junk. Most people hate coming this way to town, but it’s my favorite route to travel. If you look beyond the broken-down vehicles and dry riverbeds, there’s a dark green mountain that lifts into the sky with white powder sprinkled on top. Sure, those are a dime a dozen here, but this one is all on its own. A single mountain surrounded by a valley. “You say that, but it’s true. I did learn something from being with him.”

He holds the steering wheel with one hand as he leans against the door. He’s so relaxed looking. Like even though he’s had a shit time with life lately, he knows everything is going to be okay. “What did you learn?”

---