Page 63 of Drift

“Not today.” I settled her in front of me on the seat. “You’re gonna learn slow and right. Same way your mama did.”

Alanna put a hand on her curvy hip and smiled. “She learned on that black bike too.”

“Yeah.” I glanced at it. “And scared the hell out of me the whole time.”

Her eyes twinkled merrily. “Oh that’s right, now I remember all your cranky grumblings.”

She was most definitely getting spanked later.

“I don’t get cranky,” I muttered.

Alanna just giggled and walked Gunner back up onto the porch to watch.

I started the smaller engine. It purred instead of roared, but it was enough to make Waverly’s eyes light up like fireworks. She clapped her hands, laughing, as the vibration thrummed through the frame.

“Ready?” I asked.

She nodded hard. “Ready!”

I eased the throttle just enough for us to roll forward. The wind caught her braid, tugging it straight back, and her giggles filled the air. Around the yard we went—circling once, twice, her joy echoing in the air. Every sound, every second, branded itself somewhere inside me.

When I finally cut the engine, she looked up at me, cheeks pink and eyes wide. “Can we go again?”

“Tomorrow,” I replied. “We’ll make it our thing.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

I lifted her off the seat and carried her over to the porch where Alanna was waiting in a wicker swing. I set Waverly down in her own little kid-sized rocking chair, then dropped down onto the swing next to my wife. Her hand found mine, fingers twining like they always had. The sun slipped lower, spilling long shadows across the yard, and reminding me that I was home.

Alanna leaned into me, her voice soft against my shoulder. “You’ve done good, Chance.”

I looked at my family—my whole fucking world—and felt that rare thing settle in my chest. Something like peace.