Page 22 of Peaches

When he pulls up in front of my house and leans the weight of me and his bike onto his strong left leg, I know what I want.

Swinging myself off the leather seat, I wrestle to unfasten the straps of the helmet with numb fingers as he turns off the ignition and does the same before standing to look at me. His eyes are steady and clear, glinting like a flash of metal in the moonlight. His mouth rounds to say something, but I don’t give him the chance.

As soon as the helmet is off, I dart forward.

And I kiss him.

I catch the sound of his surprise on my lips, feel the way his muscles grow rigid. For five entire heartbeats, I wonder if I’ve made a terrible mistake.

But then his arm hooks around my middle to pull me in closer, his other hand winding through my hair as he parts his lips open. And I can’t help the violent freefall my heart takes, plummeting off the edge of possibility.

Rhett kisses me back.

His tongue reaches to meet mine, and the feel of it has my mind spinning in endless circles. Pressing my face farther into his, he deepens the kiss with a low groan that I wish I could trap in a mason jar, to open again later and listen to over and over.

I’m no stranger to a kiss—I’ve had my share. Butnoneof them have ever felt like this.

When I finally pull my mouth away, his heart races beneath the palm I have pressed to his chest. I look up to find his eyes burned to ash, and I can’t help the smile that nearly splits me in two.

“Next time, I want you to show me more ofyou,” I say.

And then I turn toward my walkway, leaving him standing beneath the endless stars.

CHAPTERNINE

RHETT

When I pull up the drive to the main house, the sky is still as dark as it was an hour ago when I woke up. Heavy clouds prevent any traces of the sun’s rise over the ranch from breaking through, and a deep sense of foreboding creeps in when I don’t see any horses turned out in the corral. A chill winds its way up my spine as I get off my bike because I’m not sure if what I’m feeling is about last night or if it’s something I can sense going on here at home.

Either way, my heart sinks further into my gut with every step I take toward the front steps.

Inside the house is warm, but I keep my jacket on and move right through the entry, where I find just about everyone gathered together. Layla stirs what looks like pancake batter in a plastic mixing bowl as eggs fry on a cast-iron pan nearby. Kasey sits at the wooden kitchen table with his head hung in his hands, and Wells stands quietly in the corner of the kitchen carefully watching Brooks pace the wide living room. Everyone’s tense, but no one says a word.

Mom must be with Melody—between her and Brooks, they haven’t left his wife alone once since she got her diagnosis. Sometimes I wonder how Melody can stand it, to be fussed over so much when all she probably wants is a little peace and quiet. Then again, most people probably crave the warmth of loved ones during a time of struggle. I’ve just never known what that feels like.

My eyes scout the room again. Dad’s nowhere to be found, but I’m not surprised.

“Where are the boys?” I ask no one in particular.

Wells turns his focus on me and his mouth dips in a frown. “Still sleeping.”

They must be sleeping upstairs if everyone’s here and not at Brooks’s. Probably a good thing . . . from the way Brooks looks, he’s not in much shape to watch them by himself. Something’s clearly happened since I left last night, but I don’t have the heart to ask, knowing it’s probably not good.

My chest tightens as the familiar dark smoke of fear invades. I turn to head down the hall for the nearest bathroom, eager to splash some cold water on my face, but Kasey’s “Where have you been?” sounds from his place at the table.

“Out,” I say. I have no interest in sharing anything about Olivia with my family, especially not after last night. Not after she catapulted me into fucking oblivion with that kiss.

I spent hours on my bike after I left her house, hoping to drown out the mental chaos, but as hard as I twisted that throttle, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d fucked up. Not even after finally calling it quits and finding myself at Wild Coyote where I could hide out in the small apartment above the bar for the night. I tossed and turned for hours, unable to fall asleep as I replayed the moment on a loop. Olivia may have been the one to start it, but I’d damn near melted at her feet from the feeling of her against me like that.

It went against everything I believed about women, which was that I needed to stay far the hellawayfrom them. But since seeing her in Spurs last weekend, I was already having a hard time resisting more of her, and now I was wary that Kasey might somehow be able to see it all over me.

He lifts his head when I step back into the living room, his tired eyes straining to glare at me. “That’s it?”

I nod. “Yep.”

He’s probably thinking that I’ve been up to no good. Sometimes it gnaws at me, the way everyone assumes I’m only made to be reckless and irresponsible. I guess I can’t blame them for thinking I take after Dad in that way, and maybe it wouldn’t bother me so much if they were right. But they aren’t. No one—not Kasey or Brooks or, hell, even Mom—has ever understood the choices I’ve made or why I’ve felt forced to make them.

After so long, I guess I don’t really care to justify anything.

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