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I catch it against my chest.

“What’s this?”

“Helmet.”

“Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

“You’re welcome.”

I glance toward the motorcycle parked outside the garage.

My stomach tightens.

“You want me to ride with you?”

“Thought we could take a drive.”

“On your bike?”

“Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

I stare at the helmet.

The last time I rode behind Grayson Blackwood, I was eighteen years old.

Before the accident.

Before Eli died.

Before everything changed.

Grayson watches me carefully.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know.”

“Could take the truck.”

I look up.

There’s no pressure in his voice. No challenge.

Just an offer.

“Are you sure?” I ask.

He glances toward the bike.

For a moment, something dark crosses his face.

Then he nods.

“Yeah.”

I step closer.

“Then I’m sure, too.”