The afternoon sun hung low enough to paint everything with warm golden light and gentle breezes carried the scent of eucalyptus and freshly cut grass across the open landscape.
I rested my chin lightly against Jace’s shoulder and simply enjoyed the ride.
There was something calming about being on a motorbike.
The constant vibration beneath me, the endless ribbon of road stretching ahead and the quiet rhythm of the engine somehow chased every lingering worry from my mind.
Neither of us felt the need to hurry and we stopped once at a small country bakery where the owner greeted Jace by name before insisting we take homemade slice of the road.
Apparently everyone knew him and everyone also knew I was with him. Small towns had remarkable communication systems.
An hour later we reach
