Mistakes I've Made (Broken Love Duet 1)

“I was already working on the trade, Bluebird. I…uh, I wanted rid of it myself. We were just ironing out the details. Talking with you yesterday just sped it up.”

“Will that thing go out to our spot?” I ask him. I have to blink because all at once this horrible look comes over him. I can’t even begin to describe it. I just know it’s horrible. It’s gone as fast as it appeared, but it’s a look I’ll never forget.

“I thought we’d make a new spot. You know, for a new beginning.”

On instinct, I walk to him. I put my hand on his arm and go up on my tiptoes and somehow find the courage inside of me to stretch up and put my lips to his. I’m not sure I’d call it a kiss. Our lips just graze, really. I pull back quickly so I can see his dark, anxious eyes. “I’d really like a new beginning,” I assure him.

“Was that our first kiss?” he asks, his voice thicker than I ever remember it. It has a roughness to it that sends little bumps of excitement scattering over my skin. The evening breeze moves around us and ruffles his hair, and in that moment, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone more beautiful than Reed Lane.

“I’m not sure that can be classified as a kiss, Reed,” I murmur, fighting a smile.

“It’s the sweetest one I’ve ever had,” he says with a wink.

He’s probably just joking but it means the world to me, just the same. He hops on his bike and coaches me on how to get on behind him. I’m a little awkward but manage it. He hands me a helmet over his shoulder.

“You don’t have one.” I feel obliged to point out.

“You’re precious cargo. I’m not important,” he says, and that haunted look is still in his eyes.

“I’m not sure I agree with that,” I mumble, but I put the helmet on. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he replies.

“What if I don’t like surprises?”

“You will this one.”

He starts the bike, the engine roaring to life. I wrap my arms around Reed and we take off into the night.

25 Reed

She kissed me.

It wasn’t a romantic kiss, but it was a kiss just the same. I’ve even managed to relax enough that it doesn’t feel like my skin is trying to crawl off my bones. I hum my happiness as she lays her head against my back. I doubt she can hear me, but her hands tighten around me, so maybe she felt the vibration.

I turn onto the main road, and we go faster, the night air crashing against my skin, thrusting against my hair and I breathe it in. For the first time in way too long I feel almost clean. I still feel lost but having Callie’s arms around me seems to anchor me.

I drive without thought, enjoying the feel of the bike between my legs. Callie was worried I got rid of my truck because of her, but the truth is I’ve wanted it gone since the morning I woke up in the back of it. Seeing Callie’s reaction yesterday just made me agree to pay a lot more than I was planning—instead of haggling. It’s a decent bike. It needs work, some of which I had to do today to make it safe enough to take Callie out on it. Having her arms around me makes it more than worth it, however.

I drive along the streets of Macon on autopilot, not stopping until we get out of town. Through it all, Callie doesn’t say a word. She just keeps her head against my back and her arms tight around my stomach. Her legs are against mine, too. I can’t think of anything better in the world than having Callie on the back of my bike. The urge to just keep driving until we end up far away from Macon is so strong that it takes all I have not to do exactly that. Instead, I turn onto a small, blacktopped road.

I found this place a couple of weeks ago. It’s abandoned and probably has been for years and years. We go through what used to be a gate at the foot of a private drive, but now is just ram-shackled, rusted metal that is broken and laying like fallen soldiers in a battle long since fought and lost. I know, because that’s exactly how I feel at times.

Lost and fallen.

I slow down as we continue to an old, abandoned house. I’m sure, once upon a time, it used to be spectacular. Now, it’s definitely dilapidated. The brick has faded from the weather. The red color, which was probably beautiful and pristine in its day, is now mostly faded white and covered with ivy. The foundation has obviously cracked, making these helter-skelter lines of division in the mortar. The windows are made of wood instead of vinyl and the glass panes have been broken out. The wood is cracked and in shambles from years of abuse by the weather.