Chapter 17: New Terms

Willa's POV

The coast road ran north out of Port Alder in the dark, and I held on to him with both arms.

The bike hummed under us.

On my left the ocean threw white lines at the rocks, and on my right the pines went by black against the moon.

I had put on his spare helmet and tucked my dress under my thighs, and I did not feel the cold at all.

I put my hands inside his jacket.

I flattened them against his stomach, over his shirt, and felt the muscle go tight under my palms.

"Willa," he said into the wind.

"Keep riding."

I slid my hands lower, to the waist of his jeans.

He drew a breath and let the bike drift a little toward the center line, and then he straightened it.

I smiled against his shoulder.

At the headland the road widened into a gravel pullout with a rail and a view of nothing but black water.

He killed the engine and sat very still.

I climbed off and pulled the helmet from my head, and my hair fell in my face.

"Take off yours," I said.

He did.

He swung one leg over and stood in front of me in the moonlight with his hands loose at his sides.

I looked at him.

The scar through his eyebrow was white in the dark, and his mouth was set hard, the way it was when he was holding on.

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