by Emilia Finn
“Let’s go, what? What did you do?”
“I forgot something inside.” He swings a leg over the bike, sits forward, then he turns and offers a hand. “Climb on, beautiful. Come for a ride.”
“The fact you want me to ride a dangerous bike on the way to see my sister is ironic in the most annoying way.”
“Your sister never had a bike accident, silly.”
He helps me climb on, slides his hand along my thigh as I scoot closer and wrap my arms around his stomach. Then he starts the bike with a roar, and grins when my entire body tenses up.
I rest the side of my face against his back, and swallow when Ben and Evie step out onto the porch and study us. Evie slides under Ben’s arm. She cups her flat belly, and smiles as she stares into my eyes.
“You ready?” Tucker asks.
I scrunch my eyes closed and squeeze my arms extra tight.
“Wave goodbye to your bodyguards,” he chuckles. “You’re safe with me.”
A few minutes after making our way along Ben and Evie’s long driveway and onto the main road, Tucker pulls into a local fast food restaurant. I’m not sure motorcycles are supposed to go through the drive-thru, but that’s what he does anyway. He asks for burgers, fries, drinks, and barely stops short of asking for the kid toys.
“Tucker?” I sit taller after he pays at the first window and we roll toward the next. “How the hell are you supposed to ride and carry food?”
“Well… you’re gonna hold the food,” he laughs.
“I can’t hold the food! I’m busy holding you.”
“You’ll be fine. Thanks.” He accepts a paper bag from the woman in the window, then reaches around and places it between his back and my stomach. “Scoot back just a little bit, then you can set it between your legs. You won’t even have to hold the bag with your hands.”
“I mean…” I study what he’s doing. “Okay, yeah. I’ll hold it in place with my thighs. That’s cool.” I settle the piping hot bag between us and wrap my arms back around his stomach. “This will work. I still get to hold on.”
“Nuh uh.” He accepts the drinks with a smile, and holds them over his shoulder. “You gotta hold these too.”
“Tucker!” I snap. “I can’t hold food, and drinks, and you at the same time.”
“Sure you can. Bag between your legs. Drinks in one hand. And in the other hand,” he turns and flashes a grin. “I’ve got something you can hold onto. It’s sturdy… thick and strong.”
“You’re disgusting.”
I rearrange the bag between my legs, scoot in as close to Tucker as I can without crushing the food, then I cuddle the cup tray against my chest and pray he doesn’t take corners too fast.
“You ready?” he asks. “Hold on with one arm. You’ll be fine, I promise.”
“Go slow,” I panic. “Don’t be crazy.”
“I’ve got you.” He slides his hand along my thigh once more, then he winks for the woman in the window and revs the bike.
Gently, blissfully slowly, he starts us rolling forward. He goes around the speedbumps in the restaurant parking lot, and slows for the driveway so we roll over the change of surface with barely more than a bump. Once we’re on the road, he revs again, but each movement is smooth. Smoother than I actually thought possible for a motorcycle, especially one that came from the trash.
This town is small, so it only takes minutes to ride from the fast food place to the cemetery. Gently pulling into the driveway while the drinks splash in my arms, and my jaw hurts from gritting my teeth the whole way, we ramble along the gravel driveway until I point out which area Lisa rests in.
Nerves lodge in my throat as we approach the lush grass and the gravesite littered with beautiful flowers, then Tucker slows the bike and cuts the engine before his front wheel leaves the gravel. What was a loud, roaring motor in my ears, is now a soft breeze and crickets chirping as the day comes to an end.
When he reaches around, I transfer the drinks from my hand to his, then I climb off the bike and remove my helmet. I set it on the seat, take back the tray of drinks, then I grab the bag of food and step back to give Tucker room to move.
“So…”
Tension roils in my belly, but Tucker does what Tucker does. He flashes his goofy smile, tosses an arm over my shoulder, and walks with me as we cross lush grass and stop in front of a modest-sized headstone. It’s not tiny, but it’s not large either.
Two feet tall, one and a half wide, the top is as high as my knees. It’s as much as my parents could afford at the time. The front reads Lisa’s full name, her two middle names, her birthday, and the date that would forever change so many lives. Beneath that, it says ‘beloved daughter, beloved sister,’ and those are the words – beloved sister – I run my fingertips along every time I visit.
“Sit down?” My voice is raspy as I look up to Tucker. “I usually just sit and hang out, so…”
“You’re not gonna introduce us?” He acts offended, presses a hand to his chest and huffs. “Cheese and rice, Nora. You bring a guy home, and you don’t introduce us?”
“So silly.” I set the tray of drinks on the grass, and ignore the Coke that has spilled above the lids. My hands shake from nerves, my heart races as I spend my time looking at Lis, and not the man I’ve slowly, but certainly fallen in love with over the last few weeks.
He insists on digging his way beneath my skin. He insists on tearing me out of the quiet refuge I’ve created for myself. Because a refuge may be safe, but it’s bland and gray, soul-sucking, and lacks any kind of stimulation. Eventually, the quiet would send me crazy. Eventually, my safe haven would become my prison. And somehow, he knows it.
“Um…” I clear my throat. “Tucker Morris, meet my sister.” I wave a hand toward the headstone. “Lisa, Tucker is my annoying neighbor. But I think you know that already. I think you’ve been laughing your ass off for weeks, so…”
He drops down on the grass, and tugs me down with a chuckle so we sit almost knee to knee. “Nice to meetcha, Lisa. Now that we’ve met, could you give Nora a shove toward my bed? I’ve got blue balls, so…”
“Stop it!” I smack his leg, and yelp when my palm stings. “Ouch. You made me hurt myself.”
“You’re the one who hit me.” He reaches out and takes my hand, and opening my palm with gentle, probing fingers, he presses a smiling kiss to the center of my palm until I sigh. “Don’t the Rollers say something about not fighting when you’re mad, because that’s when you hurt yourself?” He winks. “You got mad, you hit me, you hurt yourself.”
He releases my hand, then digs into the paper bag and pulls out a cheeseburger. “Peace offering?”
I accept the squished burger, and curse the warmth that fills my cheeks. Nerves flitter in my stomach because, by some strange twist of fate, I’m sitting at my sister’s grave… on a date. And before he came into my life, my fears used to be about danger, explosions, bad men, and the darkness. Now I’m genuinely afraid that I went and let my heart fall for a man that may or may not return the sentiment.
“You always do the most unexpected things.” Hiding my blush, I slowly peel the cheeseburger wrapping open while Tucker does the same.
“How do you mean?”
“Well… we’re sitting in a cemetery, for starters. Eating cheeseburgers. You got me here on a motorcycle, and it’s gonna be dark soon.”
“Nighttime at a cemetery.” He visibly shivers. “Not even I’m that brave.”
I take a bite of my burger and hide my smirk. “Don’t start freaking out now. I’m trusting you to get me home safely.”
“Yeah, but…” His eyes flicker to the movements in the trees. “I said I would protect you from my motorbike, perhaps from other annoying neighbors. If you happen to choke on a chicken leg, I could probably help you out, but I never said anything about zombies and shit. In fact, I’ll probably trip you when they arrive. I don’t have to be faster than them. I only have to be faster than you.”
“Charming.” I roll
my eyes and lean back to get comfortable. “Big, strong Tucker Morris is afraid of cemeteries.”
“Only at night,” he counters and takes a long sip of his Coke. “Cemeteries in the day are fine. It’s just a garden, right? Pretty flowers, fancy ornaments and shit when people leave them behind.”
“But at night?”
“Zombies.” He takes a noisy bite of his burger and tries to purse his lips around the meat and bun. “Fuckin’ zombies, Nora. And no one trained me for that. I can’t even get past level one on Call of Duty. So when the zombies hit, you’re kinda screwed.”
“I’m not afraid of the cemetery at night,” I murmur.
Tucker’s eyes whip back to mine, and his chewing stops as he studies me with disbelieving eyes. “What?”
I shrug. “Sounds crazy, I know. It’s dark, the headstones are creepy—”
“Plus… zombies.”
My breath comes out on a soft laugh. “Plus, zombies. But still, this place doesn’t scare me.”
He sets his Coke down, reclines along the grass so he lays on his side, then he flashes a ketchup smile that should be utterly disgusting, but it’s just… not. “Explain.”
I snort. “Um… okay.” I recline too, since I feel weird sitting while he lays down. “Well, I kind of figure, bad people don’t have gravestones with pretty flowers, right? They have their own space, their own plot, maybe their powerful family took them away someplace else.”
“Did Abel Hayes’ family take his body away?”
I swallow. But instead of melting into a puddle of despair on the ground, I force myself to speak of the man that murdered my sister.
“Yes, his family took his body away after he died. Somewhere else. I don’t know where, and I will never go searching. But the point is…” I look at Lisa’s pretty flowers and smile. “He’s not here. This cemetery is full of good people. People like my sister, dads, granddads. This cemetery is for loved people. Lisa is surrounded by good, family people, which means if the zombies are coming, well…” I shrug. “They’re probably nice zombies.” I meet his eyes. “I’m not afraid here.”
“Jesus.” He presses a hand to his chest and studies me. “I should go visit my family sometime soon.”
“It’s been awhile?”
He nods. “I got here when I was a teen, and I haven’t left since.”
My heart aches for the man who left that town as a boy. “I’ll come with you, if you want.”
“You would?” His voice crackles with surprise. “It’s a long away.”
“Sure. I’ll protect you at the cemetery of zombies.”
Snorting, he takes my hand and tugs me closer until I toss my burger aside and rest my face on his chest.
It’s all kinds of weird and dysfunctional that we snuggle on a gravesite. It’s horror-movie-worthy, but this is us, I guess; weird, dysfunctional, but somehow, functional.
“Are you going to the racetracks soon?” My heart pounds when the elephant in the room makes himself known. It’s my biggest fear, the very reason my anxiety swirls tonight.
But all Tucker does is run a gentle fingertip over the ball of my shoulder in circle patterns. “Not tonight,” he murmurs. “I don’t wanna leave you. Are you sleepy?”
“Not really.”
My heart takes a final dive; relief, wonder, happiness, at the fact he’s not racing. It’s an unhealthy coping mechanism, the fact I’m happy that I’ve bought myself another day, or another week until the inevitable. But anxiety is rarely logical or fair.
“I did a lot of work today,” I add, “it was a productive day, kinda invigorating in a way, but I’m not tired.”
Leaning forward, he presses a kiss to the top of my head and sighs so the loose strands of hair resting on my forehead flutter and tickle. “Nevermind the tidy little fact you got to work and gossip with your best friend all day.”
“Pot, meet kettle. Did I or did I not see you and Mac arrive at Evie’s place together?”
His breath comes out on a gentle laugh. “Can I ask you something?”
“Mmhmm.” I curl into his side as close as I can manage, drag my leg up over his thighs, and run my fingers in the groove between his pecs. He’s muscular, defined, and damn him for always asking to take me to bed. “What’s up?”
“Have you ever been in love?”
My eyes flare wide when his heart races beneath my ear. “Um…”
“You don’t have to panic,” he adds. “Let’s consider it an academic discussion.”
“Academic?”
“Mm. Like, what physical markers should one look for to know if he or she is, in fact, in love, and not, say, in lust?”
“Um…”
“You suck at this game,” he laughs. “You panic too easily.”
“Uh… I mean… I don’t know the answers. I don’t think I’ve been in love before.”
“You don’t think…” He slowly repeats my words, like that’ll help him process. “I think, that if you don’t think, then the answer is probably no. Because shouldn’t it be, like…” He pulls back, and brings my face up so I can see his smile. “If you jumped out of a plane, you’d know it, right?”
I nibble on my bottom lip and enjoy the way my racing heart feels good for once. “Yes, I would know it.”
“It wouldn’t be an ‘I think’ situation. You’d say, ‘Yes, Tucker, I know for a fact I jumped out of a plane. It was terrifying, but I did it’.” He pauses. “Right?”
“Right.” I clear my throat. “I suspect it would be quite obvious.”
“I’ve never been in love before,” he releases my face and lets me lay back down, “but I wonder how we would know for sure, unless of course, we list the symptoms.”
“Symptoms?” I laugh. “Alright, if that’s the direction we’re going.”
“If love was an STD, I probably wouldn’t be mad if you gave it to me.”
I hate that I want to smack him but swoon at the same time. I hate that his words are crude and stupid, but at the same time, perhaps the most strangely-romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.
“Love isn’t an STD, Tucker.”
“Well, maybe it is, in its most basic form. But we’ve gone off topic.” He tucks me in close and chuckles when I huff. “Let’s list the most obvious symptoms. Ya know, for research and stuff.”
I draw in a cleansing breath, only to let it out again. “Um… okay. So maybe a person in love smiles a lot.”
He smiles. I can feel it in the way he presses a kiss to my hair. “Yeah.”
“And a person in love probably has an erratic heartbeat. You know, like, the skipping a beat thing they speak about in songs.”
“Mm.” His heart races beneath my ear, a silent declaration, a pledge in the evening quiet. “Good addition to the list.”
He reaches down to cup my leg and pull it higher. “I think a person in love probably thinks of his or her love, even when they’re not around.”
He lets out a rumbling purr while the constant barrage of texts he’s sent this week play on my memory: Thinking of you.
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Probably. I think a person in love wants to keep his or her love safe all the time, even when their fears aren’t always logical or even rational.”
“Zombies.”
I burst out in giggling laughter. “I’ll keep you safe from the zombies.”
“And I’ll keep you safe from the things that hurt you,” he breathes out. “Fears don’t have to be the same for everyone. Maybe I’m scared of zombies and swamp monsters. But there are some special people whose brains are so powerful, they can’t help but conjure something much worse than cartoon monsters. Sometimes whispers on the wind can be scary, because we don’t know if the whispers mean harm, or…” He pauses. “Maybe they’re saying something else.”
“It sucks that some people’s brains won’t let them breathe or listen.”
He presses a smiling kiss to my forehead. “Either way, those fears are still okay. They’re valid.”
“I think someone in love helps their love fly,” I rasp. “It’s not possible, it’s not logical, but love means we can stretch our wings for the first time ever, we can step into the unknown, and we can fly, because we know our love will catch us if we fall.”
“Yeah,” he sighs. “I’ll always catch you.”
Sliding out from beneath me with gentle, slow movements, Tucker moves to his hip and teases soft kisses along my jaw. Brushing my hair back, he rests an elbow beside my head, looks down into my eyes, and smiles the smile of love.
“Some people are scared of the dark.” He presses a gentle kiss to my temple. “And some people are scared that we love too hard, because maybe the person we love doesn’t feel the same way in return.”
Tears form in my eyes. Good tears, happy tears. “It’s called trust,” I croak.
His brows furrow as he studies my eyes. “Huh?”
“You’re scared you love too hard,” I explain. “I was scared I would fall off a motorcycle.” I push up and press my lips to his. “It’s called trust. The one we love will always catch us.”
Nora
Letting Go
When we’re finished eating and visiting with Lisa, and the deck of cards Tucker ran back into Ben’s house to steal go unused, I slide onto the back of Tucker’s bike with his heavy, red helmet weighing me down. I place my feet on the pegs, wrap my arms around his stomach, rest my head between his shoulder blades, and when he takes off and leaves the zombies behind, I don’t even squeal at the speed.
The wind is colder now than it was when we left Ben and Evie’s place, but I cuddle in close, smile when he goes faster than he has with me in the past. The world around us, once we leave the cemetery, is almost pitch-black. The streetlights on this side of town barely penetrate the darkness, and there are no other cars on the road, so it’s just us, guided by Tucker’s single headlight reflecting off the signs.
I don’t see how fast the road moves beneath us. I don’t see how fast the trees whip by on the sides of the road. I only feel Tucker’s strong body in front of mine. The muscle in his back, muscles not from a gym like the other guys I know, but from manual work in a garage.
