with her heavy breaths. Her eyes darted across my face, filled with a thousand emotions and her racing thoughts. She was doing all the things that I should do. Thinking. Weighing risks. Trying to choose the right thing. I wasn’t going to force her, but I sure as hell wasn’t going to let her go. Before she could say anything, I leaned down and kissed her. She sank into me for a fraction of a second before her back went rigid and she pulled away. Her eyes flashed fire. “Take me home, Kellan.” Her voice came out as a choked whisper. It tore at me a little because I knew she wanted more from me, just as I wanted more from her. For now though, I’d give her a little space. She smiled, stepped back and took the helmet from me. I climbed on my Harley as she snapped it on. My skin prickled when she climbed on behind me and slid her arms around my waist. It took everything for me to maintain my self-control as she pressed her chest against my back. I revved the engine and pulled out. I’m not going to lie. I floored it a little harder than I needed to. Just enough to make Mallory squeeze me tighter as we roared off toward the highway. The ride was smooth. The weather perfect. Mid-seventies, blazing sun and blue skies. It was the kind of day I wanted to spend doing nothing but ride. I felt Mallory’s breath hitch from the thrill of the speed. I was careful. Played it safe. But Mallory squealed with joy every time I took a curve and it was hard not to just tear off and let her rip. She pointed the way as we got near East Point. She directed me down Charleston Street just past the factory district. Her neighborhood was old and starting to turn, but the houses were still kept up. The yards neat and clean. I felt her stiffen as we came to a little white ranch house with brick red shutters. An old VW Bug sat on blocks in the driveway. “This is me,” she said as I pulled up behind the Bug and killed the engine. Mallory let me go and slid off the bike so fast she stumbled a little. I reached out and caught her by the elbow. “Thanks,” she said. “You better get going. You told Tate you’d be back within the hour.” “Don’t worry about Tate,” I said. “Let me walk you in.” Mallory stiffened as I swung off the bike and walked toward her. She gave a nervous glance toward the house that got me worried. “Everything okay?” I asked. My back went up. Something wasn’t right here. She was jumpy. My fingers played at my side belt loop. I usually carried a piece but this morning I didn’t. I was starting to regret that. She put on a fake smile and nodded. “Yeah. I’ll just see you next weekend, okay?” “Mallory?” There was movement toward the front of the house. The screen door swung open and chaos poured out. “Slut! Don’t think you can run around on me and crawl back here any damn time you please!” The guy was big. Almost as tall as I was. Barrel chested with a shock of white hair and a face like a bulldog. He ran at Mallory and I put myself in front of her, hands up. I’d drop the old guy if I had to but I could see in an instant that his eyes saw something in front of him that just flat out wasn’t there. There was a tiny flicker of fear in them, but more than anything, his eyes were dead. I knew that look. God. I fucking knew that look. His eyes darted left and right as he searched for some threat on a battlefield he’d probably left more than forty years ago. He wore a tattered white tank top leaving his bare arms exposed. Though he waved his fists, I could make out the tattoo clearly on his upper arm. An army flag. A date. Vietnam. Mallory stepped from behind me. “Dad! Focus. Nobody’s running out on you. It’s just me. It’s Mallory.” “Who’s this asshole?” he said, swaying on his feet. He had a beer in one hand and a baseball bat in the other. He seemed a little more present and I wasn’t sure if that was a