Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78329 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I crouch back down beside my bike and tighten the bolt on the rear fender, but my mind’s already drifting west.
Arkansas.
Her laugh in the kitchen. The way she tucks her hair behind her ear when she’s tired. The way she looks at her grandpa like he’s both her anchor and her responsibility.
I miss her. Not in a passing way. In a bone-deep, restless way.
The open road’s been calling me for days. That itch under my skin that says pack a bag, throw a leg over the bike, and go until the horizon changes color.
But this time it ain’t about running. It’s about moving toward something. One direction has my sole focus now.
My phone vibrates in my back pocket. Country Boy. I grin before I even answer. Sometimes I swear that man has a damn radar for when to call without bothering me.
“Yeah.”
“Wrath wants a transport,” he states without preamble. “Need you to head out, collect the cash.”
I lean back against the lift and look up at the ceiling like maybe the universe finally decided to cut me a break. Of all the people to call and all the places to go, this will never work out in my favor so well again.
“When?”
“Tomorrow night is the meet.”
A slow smile spreads across my face. “You got it, Pres.”
“Thought you’d say that,” he chuckles. “You good to roll?”
“Already halfway gone.”
When I hang up, I catch Smoke watching me from the doorway of the office.
“What’s that look?” he asks.
“Transport,” I share. “Wrath wants cash moved.”
Smoke’s shoulders straighten like someone just plugged him into an outlet.
“Where to?”
“Arkansas. Then we see. Gonna hit the road within the hour. Stop overnight in Tennessee make the rest of the ride tomorrow.”
He doesn’t hesitate. “I’m in.”
Of course he is. We’ve ridden out together more times than I can count. Drank side by side. Done things neither of us would admit out loud. Once upon a time, if Smoke went looking for trouble, I was already walking next to him.
“Give me an hour,” I tell him.
“I’m ready when you are, brother.” He tells me what I already know. His bike stays filled with his go bag. The man only unpacks to do laundry.
Honey doesn’t come back out before we leave. Smoke glances toward the second building once, jaw tight, then throws his leg over his bike. We don’t say anything about it. Nothing to say. He’s going to either make peace with losing her or he’s going to figure shit out to fix it.
Engines roar to life. The road opens up in front of us like it’s been waiting.
We cross into Tennessee under a sky streaked purple and orange. Wind tears at my cut, cool against the sweat dried into my shirt. The hum of the engine beneath me smooths out everything in my head.
This is what I’ve always known.
Motion.
Distance.
The steady rhythm of tires eating miles.
We pull into a roadside motel just past the state line. Nothing fancy. Neon sign flickering. Ice machine humming. Smells like stale cigarettes and cheap cleaner.
We grab one room.
Two beds.
Just a place to shit, shower, and sleep.
Smoke drops his duffel on the nearest mattress and immediately pulls his phone out. I sit on the edge of mine and do the same. Danae answers on the second ring.
“Miles?”
Hearing her voice does something to my chest I can’t explain.
“Hey, darlin’.”
“You on the road?”
“Yeah. Tennessee tonight.”
I hear the soft shift of her moving, maybe stepping out onto her porch like she does when she wants quiet.
“You sound happy.”
I look at the cracked ceiling and smile.
“Maybe I am.”
We talk about small things at first. Her shift. Her grandpa eating better this week. The way the evenings feel longer now that summer’s leaning in.
But under it all, there’s something steadier. Something building.
“I miss you,” she says finally, voice softer.
The words hit harder than any punch. “I know,” I answer. “Me too.”
Across the room, Smoke’s voice rises. “Honey, I told you—” I glance over. He’s pacing now, hand in his hair.
“I was there last week. I came back this week. I just pulled out of town today.”
Pause.
“No, I didn’t go inside.”
Another pause.
“For what? So you could slam the door in my face in front of them?”
The tension in his voice tightens the air in the room. I turn slightly away, giving him what privacy I can in a twelve-by-twelve box.
Danae hears it anyway. “You sharing a room?” she asks.
“Yeah.”
“That’s loud.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “That’s Smoke.”
On the other side, his voice drops, then spikes again.
“I’m trying, Honey!” Silence.
Then a string of words too low to make out. A second later, he ends the call hard enough I hear the plastic crack against his palm.
I know what comes next before he even looks at me.
He grabs his jacket.
“Gonna grab a drink,” he mutters.
I meet his eyes. “Yeah?”
He shrugs. “Not staying in.”
Translation from Smoke speak, he’s not staying alone with his thoughts or his demons. Part of his problem is he won’t sit with himself and sort his feelings, his past, or even think about his future.