Finding Allie by Meli Raine Page A

Jeff. He can tend the bar alone tonight. I’m not going back. I’m just not. The farther I get away from the bar, the angrier I feel. He had no right to say that about Chase. Those lies. Chase told me what happened, and I believe him.
    So why am I so upset?
    The road is long, boring and straight for more miles than I can see. Keeping the bike moving is so easy. My hair flies behind me like a kite tail and the breeze feels so good in this crazy-hot place. All I’ve ever known is this town, these barren lands, this brown state. I’m biking in the general direction of Los Angeles, headed west, and I wonder.
    I wonder what would happen if I just kept going.
    My stash is back at the bar, unfortunately. While the idea of leaving right now and just riding forever until I literally fall into the ocean is appealing, I can’t. Not yet. I’m so close to getting it right.
    Plus, there’s Chase.
    If he’ll go, I want him there, too.
    A car passes, blowing a huge gust of wind on me. The cars are generally polite when it comes to bike riders. Why not? The roads are wide and it’s not like there isn’t enough room. Another car passes me, then a third. The engines fade off in the distance.
    My thighs are starting to complain. I don’t ride enough anymore to be in shape the way I was before I got my driver’s license. Jeff doesn’t let me use the car very often, and only when he needs me to run an errand for him. I’ve grown accustomed to driving places or being driven. My bike became an after thought.
    Now it’s a lifeline.
    Knowing I can just get away from Jeff feels so good. In a few hours I know I’ll regret this. I should go back. I should work the bar. I should shut up and act like nothing ever happened, like I didn’t mouth off to him.
    As these thoughts pepper my brain, another engine roars in the distance.
    This one isn’t a car.
    The motorcycle speeds past me just as I hit a huge bump and go flying over the handlebars onto the ragged rocks at the edge of the road, my elbows in front of me, arms bent out of instinct to protect my face. I fall so quickly I don’t even have time to scream. I’m not wearing a helmet. 
    The crunch of gravel and dirt against my face feels like I’m being peeled alive. My skin burns and burns, and then I’m wet. The sound of an engine dies out and I hear someone screaming my name.
    I can’t move. I’m in a box of nothing but pain and throbbing.
    “Allie!” It’s Chase. “Oh, God, are you okay? Holy shit. Don’t move. Let me make sure your neck and back are fine.” His voice is commanding. Responsible. In charge. I can hear him tear off his riding gloves and then soft, gentle hands are touching my neck, my back, my hips.
    “Road rash,” he says under his breath. “Bad.”
    I can’t talk. My chest feels like someone put an entire mountain on top of it. Black spots start to dot my vision. I close my eyes, willing them away.
    “What are you doing out here on a bicycle?” he asks in a tender voice, his hands on my hair, pulling it off my face. A light breeze makes my face and arms feel cooler than they should, even through the burning. 
    Air seeps slowly back into my lungs, making my body explode with pain. I start to shake. I don’t want to feel all this. The pain is worse with each second.
    “Allie?” Chase’s voice has an urgency to it. A worried tone. I need to answer him, but all I can do is move my knee and groan.
    A piercing feeling makes me nearly scream.
    Chase looks down and whistles, the kind of sound you don’t want to hear after you’ve taken a spill like this. “Damn, that’s bad. You have this flap of skin just hanging off your knee cap.”
    I think I might throw up.
    Breathe in. Breathe out. Inhale. Exhale. All the processes my body normally goes through I have to do consciously.
    “Allie.” The way Chase says my name has a terrifying quality to it. “I can hear you breathe. I think you understand me. Do I need to get an ambulance? Did you break