Page 40 of Fire Island (Fire Island #2)

Thirty-Eight

CALLUM

T he Indian stands on the grass in the midday sunshine.

She’s done.

Weeks of hard work, cursing, and one incredible fucking memory of Evie on this bike, and it’s ready to go. There’s only one last finishing touch until I can kick out the stand and fire her up. And I won’t find it on this island.

I roll the bike toward the jetty.

Reese waits by Firefly at the ramp we rigged up to transfer the bike onto the boat and across to the mainland.

Back to Bay Shore, where I intend on surprising Evie when she gets back from her meeting with Livvy for her new manuscript.

She’s been gone a whole two days, and I’m antsy as hell without her.

“She looks good,” Reese says, running a hand over the black leather seat when I roll her to a stop before the ramp. “If you two are going to go and ruin this sweet leather seat, I’m never touching this relic ever again.”

Lucky for me, I have Reese to keep me grounded. I swear to god, the shit that flies out of this boy’s mouth.

Christ.

I give him a hard stare, a subtle reminder of the boundaries we agreed on.

His gaze drops back to where his hand brushes over the polished chrome, the new black paint. His fingers track to the fuel cap before he looks up. “What do you think she’s worth?”

“We still talking about the bike?”

He chuckles. “Yeah.”

“Not as much as the girl I’m about to bring happiness to with just one ride around the coastline.”

Reese rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that sappy shit’s gotta stop.”

“That’s what he said, bud.”

“Whatever.” He runs a hand through his hair, his biceps flexing under his T-shirt.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” I say with a chuckle.

“Fuck, no. No woman is going to have me”—he waves a hand at me—“like this.” He’s shaking his head, and it’s all I can do to not laugh at him outright.

Poor boy, he has no fucking clue.

“Right, time waits for no man, and neither does the New York bus line.”

I push the handlebars as Reese pushes the rear. We get her onto Firefly, and I roll her up the deck by the cabin and kick the stand down. She really is a beauty.

Restored, re-loved.

“You be alright here for a few days by yourself?”

I wait, studying his face. The last time we left him here alone...

“I’m good.”

“Don’t forget the lamp. The harvest needs to be done every couple days or things turn. Close up downstairs every night in case a storm rolls in.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. Get the hell out of here.” He plucks up my overnighter and tosses it at me. I catch it and slide it under the bike before tying both to the side of the cabin in case we hit choppy water.

“Thanks, bud. See you in a few.”

Reese waves and wanders up the jetty.

I fire up Firefly and throttle her out into the water. We aim for the east shoreline, and my excitement grows. I have missed my little woman every single minute she’s been gone. And I intend on making sure she knows just how much.

How much she is loved.

Every mile we cover today and the next is the start of our new life together. Here’s hoping all went well with Livvy.

Twenty minutes later, I glide the old fishing boat into our slip, where Emmett awaits with bated breath.

This is the first time he’s seen the bike in almost twenty years.

Somehow, everything feels like it’s come full circle.

Our lives, our loves. Our past catching up as we forge ahead and make anew on old promises and heal old wounds.

I let the mooring lines fly from my hands, and Em catches them, securing them to the dock. I slide the ramps into place and her bumpers over the gunwale, running a hand over the Indian.

“She came up great, bud,” Em says.

“Sure did.” I untie the bike, flicking the kickstand up with my foot. He takes one side, I take the other. We roll the big old girl up and over one ramp and down the other. Safely on the dock, Em slides the ramps back onto Firefly’s deck.

“Better be going. The bus is notorious for being early.” He nods toward the road.

I grab my jacket and an extra helmet from the cabin before swinging my leg over the Indian. Em beams at me.

I flick the kickstand back, and my gut flips.

It’s been almost twenty years . . .

Sucking in a long, lung-stretching, heart-pounding breath, I fire her up.

And . . .

She roars to life.

Em pumps his fist in the air like a compete dolt. I can’t wipe the fucking smile from my face. I twist the throttle on the right handle, and the loud, heavy sound echoes over the marina.

Happiness weaves its warmth through my chest.

Now there’s only one piece of this puzzle missing.

And her bus is about to roll in. I shift the Indian into gear and give the gas hell.

Like a shot in the dark, we leave Em behind, flying over the old dock boards past boats in their slips.

I take a left up the ramp by the watchhouse and stick it to her, hoping like hell Errol is mid-nap at the damn desk like usual.

I chuckle and turn onto the street.

With a not-so-subtle rev, I pass the café and wave at Irry. She looks up, her mouth agape as I ride by. Reaching Main Street, I open her up.

Here’s hoping I make the bus station before Evie does.

The New York line is late.

And I couldn’t be happier.

I sit on the parked Indian, one leg bent on the seat, helmet in my hands outside the terminal doors. God, it’s been decades since I waited on a girl, perched on this small leather seat.

I study the ground, thinking of all the ways this thing could have turned out and counting my lucky stars they turned out the way they did. A slow whoosh has my head snap up. People wander through the doors in a messy, crowded formation.

No Evie.

I shift on the seat, running the edge of the helmet through my fingers. When the doors close and she hasn’t appeared, I hold my breath. The finest sliver of panic tangles with my senses.

The doors whoosh open again.

She pads toward me. “I thought that looked like my grumpy recluse.”

Christ, baby girl, you damn well scared me.

I push from the bike and drop the helmet to the ground as she flies into my arms, legs wrapping around my waist. Her belongings forgotten to the ground, she dots strings of kisses over my face.

This is where she goddamn belongs.

“Hell, mo ghràdh, I missed you.”

Evie leans back, her hands cupping my face. “And I you, fear milis.”

Lord above.

“You rode the Indian,” she breathes.

“And you’re about to.”

She worries her bottom lip through her teeth. “I’ve never been on a motorbike before, Cal. I mean, while it’s moving.”

I smile at her. “That changes today.”

“What about my bag?”

“We can leave it behind the counter and come back for it later.”

I wave to the guy at the front desk, and he slips out, taking her bag back behind the counter like he agreed to when I asked earlier.

“Later? Where are we going?”

I lower her to her feet and hop on the bike, firing her up.

“Anywhere you want.” Clasping my helmet on securely, I hand Evie hers.

She pulls it on and snaps the buckle closed.

Stepping closer, she throws one leg over and slides forward, wrapping her arms around my waist, resting her chin on my shoulder. “Take me anywhere, sweet man.”

We roll from the parking lot and onto the small street. After an age of the confines of our small coastal town, we find the highway.

“Hold on, mo ghràdh.”

She tightens around me.

I open the Indian up, full throttle.

We fly forward, and Evie squeals. We cruise over the winding coastal highway, stuck on each other as the wind whips past.

The woman I love is wrapped around me.

Every milestone in this life of mine has been marked by hardship. Now, by my own choosing, I will only count the good things in life.

Evie gave me that.

I’ve been living under one of the world’s brightest lights for two decades, and it wasn’t until this timid, kind, bighearted woman cracked me wide open that I stepped out of the shadows.

I slow the bike when the state forest sign comes up. Turning into the park, we roll into the secluded parking area, and I kill the engine.

Unclipping the chin strap, I tug my helmet off and hang it on the handlebar. Evie steps from the bike and hands me hers. “That was incredible!”

Her face is lit up, stuffing my heart even fuller with happiness. I slide back on the seat and pat the front of it. She moves onto the bike, her legs draped over my thighs. I clasp her face in my hands and sink my mouth over hers. Breathless, we part, and she gives me a shy little look.

“What?” I ask.

“So, I’ve been bursting to tell you this... Livvy loved my—our—story.”

“She did?”

“Yes, but?—”

I tilt my head and frown. “Do I need to send a strong-worded email to my cousin?”

She chuckles, and it almost sounds a little nervous. “No, nothing like that. It’s just that my name is attached to my fantasy series. So she said I needed a pen name. She suggested one, but I’m not sure it will work...”

“What is it?”

Her hand brushes my jaw as she breathes, “Evie McCreary.”

The grin stretching my face is ridiculous.

“Well, that figures, since you said yes, baby.”

“I did. I do.” She hangs her head. “But my parents?—”

“You saw them this trip?”

“Yeah. They were less than supportive because of...”

“The old man you’re engaged to?”

“It’s mostly my father.”

I slide my hands along her jaw, holding her gaze with mine. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”

“No more of those, remember?”

“Alright,” I say, tucking a stray wave of hair behind her ear. “On a more productive note, Em and I started the refurb on Pearl while you were away.”

“You did!?” Her face lights up instantly.

I chuckle and nod.

“That’s amazing... Almost as amazing as this gorgeous bike.” She leans back on the handlebars, her hands sliding along them as she tosses her head back with a giggle.

“Keep doing that and you’ll be getting more than just a joyride, Evie baby.”

Her brown eyes rise, and I swear they’re a hell of a lot darker than they were a moment ago when she says, “Good.”

Leaning over her as she lies along the chrome-finished Indian, I pluck a nipple into my teeth through her shirt. “Hold on, mo ghràdh.”