Denver.
The wind hadn’t helped.
I’d ridden for hours—no direction, no destination, just me and the road and the hum of my bike beneath me, trying to outrun a restlessness I couldn’t name.
But it didn’t work.
Not even the cold air tearing through my jacket, or the endless stretch of asphalt beneath my wheels, could silence the voice in my head.
Zee.
Every mile just brought her name back louder. It's been hard not calling, texting, or even seeing her since that message she sent.
But every stoplight, every flash of memory—her laugh, her lips, that damn message—spun tighter around my chest until I couldn’t breathe straight.
I told myself I wouldn’t go back to the club tonight. I’d meant it, too.
But I guess I needed the noise. The chaos. My crew.
Something to keep me from driving st
