Page 61 of Don’t Go Breaking My Heart

“I’ll walk you out, just to make sure you’re not staggering.”

Kannon grinned. “I won’t say no to that.”

We stepped outside into another chilly night. His bike sat in the driveway under the dim porchlight. I could see the scratches and dents, proof of what he had survived. It made my stomach twist.

“You really messed it up, huh?” I asked.

He glanced at me, his lips quirking into that familiar crooked smile. “It’s not so bad. Could’ve been worse.”

“Could’ve been you,” I murmured, my gaze drifting to him. “It almost was.”

He nodded and looked down at his hands. “I’m still standing.”

I searched for signs of pain—any winces, a stiff movement, something. But he was acting like it was no big deal. He moved as if he hadn’t taken a bad fall, as if his bike didn’t look like it had been through a grinder.

“You have nine lives or something?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Nah. Just good reflexes.” He winked at me, and I rolled my eyes.

“Cocky as ever,” I said, but there was no real bite to my words.

We walked down the steps. I stayed close, hugging my arms around me. He straddled the bike.

“Helmet?” I asked.

He chuckled. “My helmet is done for. It’s not going to do me much good. And the visor is cracked. Can’t see shit.”

I tried not to stare, but damn, even on a beat-up bike with his body suffering from the crash, he still looked hot. The man exuded an air of rebellion and freedom that captivated me every time. He was the epitome of the bad boy on the exterior, but I knew deep down, he was still the fun and loving man I had called my best friend.

“Please be careful. Maybe you should let me take you home. You can buy a new helmet tomorrow and then get your bike.”

“I’m fine,” he said. “Lightning doesn’t strike twice.”

“You know that’s bullshit, right? It does. And it can. I don’t want your brains splattered on the pavement.”

“I promise I’ll be careful.”

I could feel him trying to run away. I wanted to stop him, but this was him. He didn’t want to sit and wallow in the memories he’d just spilled. I nodded and stepped back, determined not to push. Tomorrow was a new day.

I felt like we had resolved some of our issues. Tomorrow, we could be friends again. And hopefully, by the time I went back to Florida, we would be on speaking terms and this time we really would stay in touch.

Kannon turned the key and the bike gave a sickly sputter before falling silent. He tried again, muttering under his breath when it failed to start.

“Dammit,” he hissed, swinging his leg off the bike and glaring at it like that might fix the problem.

“You might have nine lives but your bike doesn’t, apparently,” I said.

He crouched down to check something near the engine. His fingers worked with an almost tender precision, but I could hear him cursing.

“I guess laying it down did more damage than I thought.” He sighed, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Shit.”

I didn’t feel his same frustration or disappointment that the bike didn’t start. “I guess you’ll just have to spend the night again.”

For a moment, the only sound was the faint hum of traffic in the distance.

“Merritt,” he said, his voice low, a warning I didn’t want to hear.

I reached for him, my fingers brushing his arm. “You’re welcome to stay. You know that.”