Page 60 of Rook

She whipped around at that, eyes wide.

“We can take the bike?”

That was genuine excitement in her voice. So there was one thing about her former biker club that she did enjoy.

The bikes themselves.

“Yeah,” I said, giving her a smile. “I’ll even let you drive if you want. I’m man enough to ride bitch.”

“No. No, I don’t want to drive. But… you’re sure? What if Nancy is there?”

“Surprisingly, I’m actually allowed to drive. I guess the board didn’t see any reason to restrict that right. I renewed my driver’s and got a motorcycle license. But I don’t drive much. I don’t want to give Nancy a reason to suspend the right.”

“But, since she wanted us to do this drug test outside of town…”

“Exactly.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” she said, practically bouncing as she located her phone and purse. “You have a helmet for me, right?”

“Of course.”

With that, I followed her down the road to where my bike was parked and climbed on.

Tessa fiddled with the helmet strap before jumping on behind me. There was no hesitation as she scooted in close to me, legs wrapped around the outside of mine, her arms around my midsection, and her head against my back.

It wasn’t exactly a romantic date—going to get a piss test together—but I was excited as I turned the bike over.

Tessa’s arms and legs tightened around me as I pulled off from the curb.

It seemed like she was excited too.

I took it slow at first, but as we got on one of the main roads, Tessa’s legs tightened harder, and her legs left my midsection.

She threw them up in the air, letting out a long laugh of joy as the wind whipped around us.

My answering smile was wide.

And, damn, for just a few minutes, I finally felt like a normal person. Someone who didn’t have to answer for everything they did. Someone who wasn’t constantly worried about the fate of their last remaining loved one. Someone who wasn’t faking a marriage with a woman he knew all the superficial details about, but nothing deeper than surface.

Someone who was free. And happy.

We got to the testing center too quickly. And reality came back just as fast.

Then it was all about paperwork and little cups and private rooms where we weren’t allowed to bring anything so we couldn’t contaminate our samples.

“Sorry again about this,” I said as we walked out of the building.

“It’s not the first time I’ve peed in a cup.” At my raised brows, she shrugged. “My mom used to make me do it so she could keep custody of me. Really fucked up cycle, that.”

“Would you have preferred going into foster care?”

“I think that answer would have changed depending on the day.”

“So there were good times?” I asked as we both moved to walk down the street, passing quaint mom-and-pop stores.

“There were times when I was more comfortable with the devil I knew,” she told me. “My mother was never really a mom to me. She was selfish and, at times, outright cruel. I don’t know if that was the drugs or just… her.”

“She was never sober?”

---