The hum of tires against the highway blurred into rhythm, broken only by the occasional curve, the thunder of the Harley, and the gentle pressure of Sage’s arms wrapped around his waist.
She fit behind him like she was molded for it.
They’d left just after nine, the sun still low enough to cast long shadows across the road. Her dog had watched them leave like a soldier on post, her old man standing next to him, a silent promise between the two men as Silas rode off with the only girl who ever made him want something more.
Sage didn’t say much at first. She didn’t have to. They were both the kind of quiet that came from watching too much go sideways too many times. But the road had its own language, and it worked on her slowly—he could feel it in the way her hold loosened, her head resti
