Page 104 of Sinful
Instead, we talk about after.
About Texas.
About what home looks like.
About racing—legal tracks she could compete on instead of underground circuits.
About a future that feels both impossible and inevitable.
"I've been thinking," she says one night, lying in my bed with her head on my chest. "About what I'll do when I get to Texas. When Dad's stable enough for me to leave."
"Yeah?"
"I can't go back to Cactus Jack's. That life—Bailey, the fake names, the hiding—I'm done with that."
"Good. You deserve better than that dive bar."
She's quiet for a moment. "What if I got a job at a real garage? Worked on bikes legitimately. Maybe saved up, eventually opened my own shop."
The way she says it—tentative, like she's testing the words—makes my chest tight.
"You'd be good at that," I say. "You're fucking talented with bikes."
"You think?"
"I know." I press a kiss to her hair. "And I'd help. However you needed."
"Even if it means you're around less? If you're working on building something with me instead of constantly on the road?"
"Yeah.."
She tilts her head up to look at me. "You'd really do that? Give up being a Nomad?"
"I don't know if I'd give it up completely. But maybe—maybe I could be a Nomad who has a home base. Who has someone to come back to." I cup her face. "Someone worth staying for."
Tears shine in her eyes. "I love you."
The words still hit like a physical blow every time she says them.
"I love you too."
We make love slowly, taking our time, memorizing each other.
Because tomorrow I leave.
Dawn comes too fast.
I wake before my alarm, Helle still asleep against me.
I watch her for a moment—blonde curls messy on the pillow, face peaceful, completely unaware that I'm about to leave.
I don't want to wake her.
But, I want to memorize this moment—this peace.
But I have to go.
"Helle," I whisper, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I have to leave."
