Page 44 of Ride or Die

Reluctantly, I hop into the car and fasten my seatbelt. Cole hands me my tote before closing the door gently, and I watch as he rounds the hood and slides into the driver’s seat.

The silence in the car between us is thick and obvious, and when he turns the key in the ignition, all I can hope is that the damn thing starts because honestly, that’d be all I need right now. Thankfully, it does, but unfortunately so do the Backstreet Boys, at full volume, singing the “I Want It That Way” bridge.

Cole’s head turns slowly, looking at me, his brow quirked questioningly.

Lunging forward to turn down the volume until the song is a low murmur of faint music, I bite back a grin, feeling my cheeks heat. “Billie…” is all say by way of explanation.

Billie has this weird Backstreet Boys obsession considering she’s only five years old, but I’ve embraced it because it sure beats “Baby Shark” or whatever the hell kids are forced to listen to nowadays.

Cole chuckles, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the road. The tension in the car between us eases to something that feels almost easy, companionable, as we drive through the darkness to the tune of the Backstreet Boys playing softly through the speakers.

“When do you… ride next?” I ask, breaking the silence.

Cole shifts in his seat, not looking at me. “Um, tomorrow night. Back down Guthrie. Just a small event.”

I watch him from the corner of my eye, from his tight grip on the steering wheel, to the way his throat bobs, to the ticking muscle in his jaw.

“Do you like it?”

He glances at me briefly then. “What?”

“Riding.”

He nods, turning back to watch the road ahead. “Yeah, I love it.”

My lips twist to the side as I study him. “You don’t even smile when you talk about it.”

Cole looks at me again, his brows knitting together. “What do you mean?”

I shrug. “Well, normally when a person talks about something they love, they light up. You… kinda look like you could kill someone right now,” I say wryly.

Looking back to the road, Cole releases a hard breath, and I see him mull over something. “It’s not about lovin’ it or hatin’ it. It’s about it being all I’ve got. All I’m good at. Ridin’ bulls is it for me. I kinda have to love it.”

I watch him for a beat, his answer tinged with something that hangs heavy and hints at sadness.

Flashing me another glance, there’s the flicker of a twinkle in his eyes as he says, “Besides, I don’t smile all that much.”

“You should,” I say before I can stop myself, snapping my mouth shut when I realize exactly what words are on the tip of my tongue. Jesus, Clara.

He arches a brow. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

Because your smile is everything, I don’t say.

Thankfully, before I’m forced to respond with something that will probably do nothing more than make a fool of me, we turn off the country road and into the driveway, and I witness Cole’s face transform before my very eyes from playful to murderous as he practically barks, “What the fuck?”

I turn, my mouth falling open at the sight of what appears to be at least fifty people standing in the front yard.

“Oh my god!” Panic wraps itself around my belly and I’m opening the car door before we’ve even come to a stop.

“Clara, wait!” is all I hear, Cole’s words lost to the sound of the music and the din of voices filling the night air, but I’m already out, running through the yard, pushing and shouldering my way through the throng of drunken teenagers as tears prick my eyes.

“Get out of my way!” I cry, shoving through a group milling about on the porch steps. I yank open the screen door, finding even more people inside, drinking and smoking, laughing like they fucking belong here.

“Tommy?” I yell out, searching the space. “Billie?”

“Mommy?”

At the sound of Billie’s voice, I push past a mountain of a boy, zeroing in on Billie and Tommy sitting on the sofa, grinning mischievously up at me, perched between two teenage boys with video game controllers in their hands.