Page 102 of Redline Baby

His version is so much happier than the original. My heart gets lighter. The song has always been sad. Rue's dad used to sing it to her, and he isn't here anymore. But Kit has changed it.

Rue is laughing now, delighted rather than sad. I look at Maren. She's wiping her eyes. But she's smiling. The last chord fades. The strings vibrate, then quiet.

Rue looks up at Kit with complete seriousness.

"Again."

Kit laughs. The rolling pattern begins again, the melody returns, and before he's finished the first line, Rue is singing with him. Then they're both singing Kit's version.

My heart is beating fast in my chest.

That's when I realize I love this boy.

Chapter 24. Kit

The canyon opens around me, two lanes of black asphalt cutting through rock and pine, nothing on my right but air and the drop that makes my stomach float every time I lean the bike into a turn. I'm tucked low, chest close to the tank, the engine singing high in the revs and vibration climbing my arms through the handlebars into my shoulders. Wind tears at my helmet. My throat is raw from laughing. It's still the KTM Soren lent me. Vera is still being worked on, slowly but surely, even after months, but I'm in no rush at all.

Behind me, Dex's Kawasaki howls out of the third switchback, the exhaust note carrying forward on the wind, and I hear Sol answer two corners back with the deeper growl of their Harley. A lot of riding groups seem to cluster around one kind of bike. Not us. We like everything. There are five of us spaced through the canyon today, the formation opening naturally whenever the road starts twisting so everybody has room to choose their own line. I glance in my mirror and catch Allie coming through the long curve behind us, compact and precise. She's good. She's always been good. The best of us.

Soren isn't here. He's swamped at the shop. But when I asked if he was okay with me riding with the group without him, he said he trusted me to be careful and told me to have fun with my friends. I take that seriously. I wouldn't break that trust.

The road straightens between switchbacks, and I roll on the throttle. The KTM answers immediately, smooth and eager beneath me. The suspension works over a rise in the asphalt, the whole bike lightening for a second before settling again, and the sensation is so clean and complete that I start laughing inside my helmet all over again. Riding is when I feel the most alive, and here I am, alive, with my friends, with my amazing boyfriend waiting for me back home. What I told Rue was true. This is better than a roller coaster. I think it's probably as close as anyone gets to riding a dragon, assuming dragons were real and required regular oil changes.

Dex is ahead of me now, leaning his Kawasaki cleanly through the next bend. I follow at a safe distance, then choose my own line through the corner after it, the KTM settling underneath me exactly where I expect it to. At the next straight, Dex glances into his mirror and gives me a quick gesture with one hand. Challenge accepted. Not stupidly. Just enough. I close some of the distance on the straight, and by the next curve he's still ahead of me, which means he's going to be insufferable about it later.

Good.

The overlook appears on the right, a gravel turnout wide enough for several bikes. We peel in one at a time, asphalt giving way to loose stone crunching beneath the tires. I kill the engine and pull off my helmet. My hair is plastered flat with sweat, my scalp prickling in the dry heat, and the grin on my face is so wide it hurts.

"That line through the fourth was absolute garbage," Sol says, swinging a leg off his bike. His bald head appears when he removes his helmet. "You pushed wide enough that I thought you were going to marry the guardrail."

"Hell no. I'm riding safe today."

Dex snorts. He's looking even more like Bad Bunny after his new haircut.

Allie pulls off her helmet. Her hair is a wreck, sticking out in every direction, and she shakes it loose with both hands before looking at me. "You were showing off on that last straight."

"Within reason."

"Bullshit," Dex says, already walking toward the guardrail, riding boots kicking up little clouds of dust. "You saw me ahead of you and took it personally."

"I did not."

"You absolutely did."

"I merely observed an injustice and attempted to correct it."

Sol laughs.

The view from the overlook is the kind of thing that makes you stop talking even if you're mid-insult. The canyon drops away in layers of rock and pine, the river far below reduced to a thin silver thread. The sky is so wide and blue it feels like something you could fall into. I stand at the rail beside Dex and look at it. Actually look. That's something Soren has been teaching me without ever really teaching me: how to stand somewhere and let the place be what it is instead of turning it into scenery behind whatever I'm trying not to think about. Light catches on the river. A hawk circles somewhere above the ridge. My chest feels open. I'm so happy.

"Which way back?" someone asks behind us. One of the newer Redline members, a guy on a modified Honda I've ridden with twice, whose name I keep forgetting because I'm terrible with names.

"Ridge road," Sol says. "Faster. Less traffic."

"Canyon road," Allie counters. "More fun. More corners."

The argument picks up immediately. Dex joins in with both hands planted on the rail. My body is still humming pleasantly from the ride when I reach into my jacket pocket for my phone to check the time.