We left before dawn, seven bikes cutting through mist thick enough to swallow headlights whole, and I spent the first hour of that ride with my arms locked around Ronan's waist trying not to think about how much this exact position, this exact silence, had once meant fleeing him instead of riding beside him.
You're quiet, he said over his shoulder, voice carrying easily even at speed.
Thinking, I said. About how different this feels than the last time I was on the back of your bike running toward something dangerous.
Different how, he asked.
Last time I didn't trust you enough to ask what we were riding into, I said. Now I trust you enough to be terrified alongside you instead of despite you.
He laughed at that, short and surprised, the sound doing something warm to my chest despite t
