Page 33 of When It Reins
I turn and unstrap the extra helmet on the back of the bike and strap it onto her. When she’s ready, I mount the bike and wait for her to do the same.
“Hold on to me. Scoot down.” I reach back and grasp her under her knees, pulling her toward me until she’s flush against my body, and I feel her arms snake around my waist, holding tightly. “Just relax and move with me. You’ll be all right.”
“I trust you” is her reply, and my eyes close briefly at the words, feeling them down to my core.
I strap on my own helmet, see Ezra pull out and onto the road, and then we’re off.
I’ve dreamed of this very moment right here. Of Juniper on the back of my bike, trusting me to keep her safe. Of us going on road trips, just the two of us, and enjoying life together.
She’s the only person who I’ve ever really let myself have that fantasy about, and now it feels like it could happen.
A while later, we’re curving through the mountains, and I have a wild idea. I don’t ask her permission, mostly because I don’t want to hear the word no, but I skip the exit I should have taken and make it to the next one. She doesn’t say anything, just trusts whatever I’m doing.
When I wind my bike off the highway and up a hidden driveway a while later, I pull the bike into the driveway of my cabin and shut it off.
I feel Juniper loosen her grip and immediately miss the way her arms felt wrapped around me.
“Where are we?” she asks, dismounting with the help of my shoulder and unstrapping her helmet.
“This is my place,” I tell her, avoiding eye contact.
“Your place?” Juniper looks around at the woods surrounding the cabin, probably confused. “I thought you lived at the clubhouse.”
“No,” I answer, climbing off the bike and taking her hand in mine. The amount of relief I feel when she lets me lead her into my home is off the charts.
I have to get myself to calm down, or nothing productive would ever happen here.
“Wow.” Her voice is quiet as we enter through the front door, and I let her walk around, checking out my space. I rarely let anyone ever come here, and the only people who know about it are my brothers, their wives or girlfriends, and my mom.
But I don’t like having people in my space if I can help it.
Juniper…Well, that’s a different story altogether.
She moves around the space, probably looking for pictures or tokens or knick-knacks. All of which I don’t have.
The living room is just big enough for the couch that’s shoved up against one wall, then there’s a small dining table that is in the space right before the kitchen, which is also small. It has the basics: a stove, sink, and fridge.
“This is cozy.”
I smile at her words, setting our helmets on the small bench by the door. Most people may have said that sarcastically, but she’s being completely serious. “I don’t need much.”
She looks over at me, her eyes studying my every move, and frankly, making me more nervous than I have a right to be. Nothing is happening here, nothing is going to happen. I just…need her safe.
“No, I didn’t think you did,” she says, eyeing my guitar in the corner of the room. Her gaze meets mine, something resembling surprise in them. “You play?”
“You know I play.” She’s seen me strum some chords at family dinners for her to sing to.
“No, I know. It’s just…” She looks at the setup, at the notebook sitting on the armrest, and the guitar stand on the floor next to it has a pack of picks. “I thought you just knew some chords, but you actually play for a hobby.”
I shrug my shoulders, leaning against the small table and watching her. Truth is, I play to relax, to help fight the shit that’s always in my head that I wish I could banish.
She turns to me, having checked out all the spaces that are mine. Well, that I’m ready to share with her for now. “So what are we doing here, Mitch?”
I sigh and scratch at my head, wondering how to put into words what I want to say. “Just thought you might want a change of scenery.”
She crosses her arms and steps closer to me. Her hair, still wild from the wind, makes her look more reckless than normal, but I love that. Love that she looks free, wild, and happy.
“That’s all?” She looks up at me, something in her eyes telling me that this is a challenge.
