Page 123 of Dirty Saint

His blazing green eyes scanned my face, and his brow lifted in question.

I ran my fingers over the tank of my bike. The paint job. The mods. I had put everything into it. It was a beast, and I loved to ride, but I was done with all that shit. I needed the money more than I needed my bike. I needed a car, a place for Tori, and cash to start my new life. I knew what my bike was worth and could get a pretty penny out of it. It was worth it.

“Can you sell it?”

His eyes widened in shock. “You’re not serious.”

I swallowed, the words hard to form. “Never been more serious in my life. I’m done with this shit, man. No more racing. No more drugs. I need a car. I need to be what Tori needs. What’s safe for her. A motorcycle took away her sister. I doubt she’ll ever go near one again anyway.”

He sighed, running a hand over his shaved head. “Fuck, man. Don’t ask me to do this.”

He knew what our bikes meant to us, but he also knew what it meant to love someone more than anything.

When I didn’t respond, he cussed and sucked his teeth. “Fuck. Yeah, I can sell it. If that’s what you really want.”

My love for racing was still there, but my love for Tori was louder. It was like the desire to race was gone. There was no joy without her, and I wasn’t going to take the risk of my bike, the racing, and my old lifestyle keeping her away from me.

“It’s what I want.”

I took an Uber back to the hospital. The day had turned to night, and when I entered Tori’s room, I found Tori and Everly snuggled up together, sleeping in her hospital bed. My heart expanded when I saw them. I trusted Everly, and I knew her heart was good. If Tori was letting her in, then it was for the best.

39

Tori

Ispentthedaybefore leaving the hospital with Everly, who I was positive was a saint. Before, when she and Skull came by, we hadn’t talked much. Then again, I wasn’t much for talking due to the shock of the things happening around me, but it was different when we were alone.

We sat and talked about Gracie. We cried together and held each other. She sat with me while I grieved my little sister, and even though we didn’t know each other well, I felt like her heart was feeling what mine was. It was as if she understood my grief. Somehow, it felt easier to open up to her.

I told her about my past—about my history with Koah—about the crazy shit surrounding my father. Then I told her how wonderful Gracie had been—how funny and intelligent she was. It was therapeutic, even though I knew it would be a long time before I was okay again.

We ate lunch together, and then later we had dinner. When the night shadowed the city outside my hospital window, Everly and I relaxed in my uncomfortable hospital bed and watched reality TV until we both fell asleep.

Not once did Everly make me feel like she was annoyed to be there. Not once did it seem like she was ready to go. She and I became friends that day in a way I’d never had a friend before. There were people in my life, friends from The Huddle and from Waffle House, all of whom came by to visit me at some point, but with Everly, it was different. We were kindred, and I was thankful that Koah had asked her to come and be with me.

I woke the following day with Everly gone and Saint in her place. I watched him sleep, his face drawn and stiff. He wasn’t comfortable, and the dark circles around his eyes told me he had also been through the wringer. He was stressed and hurting, and while I wanted to let him break through to me, I couldn’t. There was this wall I could peek around occasionally, but that kept me from allowing everything back in. I felt like as soon as I did, the pain and grief would be a hundred times worse.

The nursing staff made me sit in a wheelchair when it was time to be discharged. Koah stood beside my chair in the elevator as we descended to the first floor. I didn’t ask, but I worried Koah had his bike. I wasn’t sure if I could get on the back of a motorcycle ever again, no matter how safe I felt with Koah.

A bike accident had taken my sister from me, and it was still fresh. We hadn’t even had a chance to bury her, and knowing that made me sick to my stomach. Gracie was sitting on ice somewhere, waiting for me to be able to leave the hospital.

I clenched my eyes closed and breathed through the rush of guilt and pain that flashed through me. I had to keep my mind away from the visions of my little sister lying somewhere cold—dead and broken.

Sensing my emotions, Koah reached down and touched my arm. A part of me wanted to shake him off, but the other part needed his warmth.

It was cool outside when the sliding doors to the hospital exit opened. Koah wheeled me out, and I was relieved to see Crow’s car parked out front, waiting instead of Koah's yellow bike.

Koah helped me out of the wheelchair and into the car, then tossed my things in the back seat before getting behind the wheel. We left the hospital and made our way through the city, and I stared out the window, watching the world go by, knowing my sister was no longer a part of that world. A tear rushed down my cheek, and I swiped it away before Koah could see it.

We passed familiar things, and soon, I realized we weren’t headed to my apartment.

“We’re going the wrong way,” I stated.

Koah reached out and took my hand, and I let him. “I’m not taking you to your place.”

Tugging my hand from his, I turned his way. “Where are you taking me? I want to go home, Koah.”

He shook his head, gripping the steering wheel and making the leather squeak.

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