Sam
I climb off the bike and my legs feel unsteady.
Not from the ride—I'm used to that now. The speed, the curves, the way Knox leans into turns and I lean with him.
No, this is different.
This is nerves.
I pull off the helmet and shake out my hair, buying myself a few seconds to breathe. To think. To figure out if I'm actually going to do this.
Knox is already off the bike, setting his helmet on the seat. He doesn't look at me right away, just stands there with his hands in his pockets, giving me space.
That's what he does. Always gives me space when I need it.
And that's exactly why I need to say something.
I walk over to the stone wall, my heart pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat.
The city sprawls out below us—lights and buildings and streets that look almost peaceful
