“So,” Gabe concludes. “Buck is putting his stamp of approval on you and Rachel.”

I open my mouth to tell Gabe that he’s not making any sense, but then I stop. Because I realize what Gabe is saying, in his own, roundabout way.

Gabe approves.

And that’s twice in one day, so there’s no fucking way I’m going to argue with him.

26

Rachel

“Rachel,” my mom says. “Brody Wilder is on a motorcycle outside. You’re not going on his bike, are you?”

Concern laces her voice. Her eyebrows bend together in a V.

I look out the window.

My mom’s right. Brody’s shiny, beautiful black motorcycle sits in the driveway, but that’s not where my eyes are. They are on Brody, pulling his helmet off and shaking out his rumpled hair. On his thighs, braced around the steel and fiberglass frame. On his leather boots and torn jeans, and his big hands, the leather cuffs on his wrists, the ink on his arms.

I look at my mother, and think about all the times I sat up with her at night while she waited for Connor to come home, and how I vowed never to be the kid who caused her worry.

She will worry about me the whole time I’m gone, if I get on that bike with Brody.

In general, making people worry is one of the many things I pride myself on not doing.

She’s totally justified, too, because motorcycles are dangerous. Getting on that bike has not ever been and will never be part of any sane, well-thought through plan.

And you know what?

I’m going to do it anyway.

Being her good girl, being anyone’s good girl, doing it right, getting it perfect?

They’re all old habits I can give up now.

“I don’t want to stress you out,” I tell her. “But I think if I don’t do this? I might regret it for the rest of my life.”

Something like a smile smooths out the wrinkles in my mother’s forehead.

“Oh,” she says. “It’s like that, is it?”

I nod. “Yeah. It’s like that.”

She nods. “Well. Yes. I’ll worry about you the whole time you’re gone. But all of parenthood is about trying to figure out the balance between tying your children to your waist and letting them run around in the world. All right. I’ll try to find a new show to watch on Netflix so I won’t think about it too much. But he better have a second helmet.”

I can see him out there, holding it. “He does.”

I give her a big hug, and I promise her we’ll go slow and stay on familiar roads, even though I have no idea if that’s true.