Page 19 of Fire Me Up (Front Range Motorcycle Collective #2)

Gael

I closed my eyes and leaned back against the headrest, listening to Dylan’s phone ring for the fifth time.

Straight to voicemail. Again. I hung up before his recorded voice could twist the knife deeper.

The doctor’s words still echoed in my head: “You’re cleared to return to active duty.

” I should’ve been thrilled—back to the job I loved, the purpose that defined me.

Instead, all I could think about was the hour and a half of highway between Denver and Colorado Springs. Between me and Dylan.

“Fuck,” I muttered, tossing my phone onto the passenger seat.

I’d known this day was coming. My shoulder had been feeling better for weeks—no more sharp pains when I reached overhead, no more waking up stiff and aching.

The physical therapy had worked its magic, and now I was officially healed.

Ready to slide back into my turnout gear and climb onto fire trucks again.

So why did it feel like I was losing something?

I started the truck, the engine rumbling to life beneath me.

The parking lot of the medical center was half-empty, afternoon sun glinting off windshields.

I should call Liv or Marisol, tell them the good news.

They’d been waiting for this—for me to get back to my life, my apartment, my job.

To stop colonizing Liv’s couch and reorganizing her kitchen.

Instead, I picked up my phone again and scrolled to Dylan’s contact. His face grinned back at me from the photo I’d snapped while he was working on his bike, hair falling across his forehead, grease smudged on one cheek. My chest tightened at the sight.

I tossed the phone back down without calling again. Dylan had made it clear from the beginning—he didn’t do relationships. Didn’t do feelings. Every time things got too intimate, too real, he’d pull back with a joke or a deflection.

But I’d seen the cracks in his armor. The way he looked at me when he thought I was asleep.

How he’d built Bacon that ridiculous luxury cage.

The special spot in the woods he’d taken me to—his thinking place, he’d called it.

You didn’t share that kind of thing with someone who was just a fuck buddy.

You didn’t have the kind of intense connection we had with a fuck buddy.

Did you?

I pulled out of the parking lot, turning toward the FRMC instead of Liv’s apartment. I needed to see him. Tell him in person. Maybe then I could gauge his reaction, see if there was any chance he felt the same way.

And then there was the other thing. The thing I hadn’t told him yet. The thing that might change everything. It wasn’t a sure thing yet anyway.

Because what would I even say? “Hey, I know we’re just fucking around, but I’m trying to uproot my entire career to be closer to you”? Yeah, that wouldn’t send him running for the hills at all.

Traffic was light as I crossed town, my mind spinning with all the ways this conversation could go.

Best case: Dylan would be thrilled I was staying, admit he had feelings too, and we’d figure out the distance until my transfer came through.

Worst case: he’d see it as me getting too attached, freak out, and end things completely.

The FRMC came into view, its industrial facade familiar and comforting after weeks of classes and visits. I pulled into the lot, scanning for Dylan’s bike out of habit. No sign of it. My stomach sank, but I parked anyway. Maybe he was inside, working on someone else’s bike.

I headed for the main entrance, nodding to a few familiar faces. The place was busy for a Tuesday afternoon—a class in session in one room, customers browsing gear in another. I made my way toward the back workshop where Dylan usually held court among tools and motorcycle parts.

The space was empty. His toolbox closed, workbench cleared of the usual organized chaos. No music blaring from the portable speaker he kept on a shelf. No Purple-haired smartass lounging on a stool, making dirty jokes while fixing complicated machinery.

I checked the break room, the front desk, even stuck my head into Silas’s office. No Dylan.

“Looking for Kim?” Silas asked, glancing up from his computer.

“Yeah, is he around?”

Silas shook his head. “Took the day off. Said something about heading up to the mountains.”

“Did he say when he’d be back?”

“Nope. But he’s on the schedule tomorrow morning.” He tilted his chin and nodded at someone behind me, and I turned to find Lucas standing there. “Seen your brother, Lucas?”

Lucas frowned, shaking his head. “No. I was, um. I was just stopping by to hang out with the guys.”

Silas clapped him on the back. “Fantastic. Did you get on a bike yet?”

Lucas blushed, so like his brother, and yet… not. “Oh. Um. No? I just met a few guys from class for lunch. Gael, I’ll tell Dylan you’re looking for him if I see him.”

I thanked them and headed back outside, disappointment settling heavy in my gut. I circled around to the employee parking area, confirming what I already knew—Dylan’s bike was gone. So was the chance to have this conversation face to face.

I leaned against my truck, staring at the spot where his motorcycle usually sat. What now? Leave a voicemail? Text him? “Hey, great news, I’m healed! Bad news, I’m moving back to the Springs! Also, I might be in love with you!”

Fuck.

I wasn’t supposed to fall for him. That wasn’t part of the arrangement. I’d promised myself I’d keep it casual, enjoy the experience without complicating things. But somewhere between learning to ride and learning what his body felt like against mine, I’d broken that promise.

Now I had twelve hours before I needed to be back in Colorado Springs, reporting for duty. Twelve hours to figure out how to tell Dylan that everything was about to change. Twelve hours to prepare myself for the possibility that what we had—whatever it was—might not survive the distance.

Unless I told him about the transfer request. But that was a whole other conversation, one that might scare him off completely.

I pushed off from the truck, unsure where to go next. Liv’s place? Back to the doctor’s office to beg them to say I needed another month of recovery? The mountains to track down Dylan?

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I snatched it up, heart leaping—but it was just Liv.

“Hey,” I answered, trying to keep the disappointment from my voice.

“So? What’s the verdict?” She sounded annoyingly cheerful.

“I’m cleared. Full duty, starting the day after tomorrow.”

“That’s fantastic! We should celebrate tonight! I’ll tell Marisol to meet us at—”

“Can we do it another time?” I cut her off. “I need to talk to Dylan first.”

A pause. “Ah. The boyfriend talk. Finally.”

“He’s not my boyfriend.” The automatic denial came out sharper than I intended.

“But you want him to be.”

I didn’t answer. Didn’t need to.

“Gael? You there?”

“Yeah.” I sighed, scanning the parking lot again as if Dylan might materialize. “I’m at the FRMC. He’s not here.”

“Sweetheart, he might not want—”

Movement near the food truck area caught my eye. Not Dylan, but two familiar figures walking toward the building. Aiden, animated as always, talking a mile a minute. Beside him, Cash, silent and steady, nodding occasionally.

“I’ll call you back,” I said, hanging up on Liv’s protests.

Maybe they knew where Dylan was. And if not, maybe they could help me figure out what the hell I was supposed to do next.

Aiden was impossible to miss in his bright yellow Egg Me On t-shirt, hands gesturing wildly as he talked.

Cash walked beside him, silent as always, nodding at whatever Aiden was saying.

They were an odd pair—Aiden all animation and chatter, Cash built like a brick wall with tattoos.

But the way they moved together, perfectly in sync despite their differences, made my chest ache.

That’s what I wanted with Dylan. That wordless understanding. That certainty.

“Gael!” Aiden waved enthusiastically when he spotted me.

I forced a smile as they approached. “Hey guys.”

Cash gave me a nod, his version of a greeting. Up close, I could see smudges of flour on Aiden’s shirt. Lunch rush at the food truck must have been busy.

“You look like someone kicked your puppy.” Aiden tilted his head. “Everything okay with you and Dylan? Did he do something stupid?”

“I got cleared to return to work.” The words tumbled out before I could stop them. “Full duty, starting tomorrow in Colorado Springs.”

“That’s great! Isn’t it?” Aiden’s smile faltered as he read my expression. “Oh. The distance thing.”

Cash crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly. He looked from me to Aiden, then back again.

“I know it’s only been a few weeks,” I said, leaning back against my truck. “Fuck, I’m being ridiculous.”

Aiden shrugged. “No you’re not. You like him. And Dylan is being Dylan about the whole thing.”

I nodded, surprised by how easily Aiden cut to the heart of it. “He keeps saying it’s just casual.” I ran a hand through my hair, embarrassed by how pathetic I sounded. “But it doesn’t feel casual to me anymore. Hasn’t for a while.”

“Because it’s not.” Aiden spoke with such conviction that I stared at him. “Gael, I’ve known Dylan for years. I’ve seen him with his hookups. This thing with you? It’s different.”

“Different how?”

“Well, for one thing, you don’t go dancing with your casual fucks every night of the week. And that cat condo in the shop?And he modified his motorcycle for your cat. That’s like, permanent. His casual fucks are usually around for a few days at most.”

My heart gave a hopeful lurch. “Then why does he keep insisting that’s all it is?”

Cash made a small noise—not quite a word, just a sound in the back of his throat. Aiden turned to him immediately, nodding as if Cash had delivered a lengthy explanation.

“Cash is right,” Aiden said. “Dylan’s protecting himself.”

I looked between them, confused. “From what?”

“Who knows.” Aiden’s voice softened. “He seems to be afraid of getting too attached to people.”

Cash nodded, his expression somber.

“So what am I supposed to do?” I asked. “I can’t force him to admit he has feelings.”

“We need to get him out of jackass playboy mode.” Aiden tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Break through that emotional constipation.”

“How exactly do we do that?”

“A grand gesture!” Aiden’s eyes lit up. “Something romantic and dramatic that forces him to confront his feelings!”

Cash shook his head emphatically, a slight grimace on his face.

“No?” Aiden turned to his boyfriend. “You don’t think a grand gesture would work?”

Cash just raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t think declarations of love are the right move,” I said. “It feels too soon for that.”

“You’re right. Too direct.” Aiden paced in front of us, thinking. “We need something subtler. Something that will make him realize what he stands to lose.”

Cash watched him with fond exasperation, then caught my eye and gave me a tiny smile.

Suddenly, Aiden squealed and clapped his hands. “I’ve got it! The perfect plan!”

“Should I be worried?” I asked Cash, who responded with a slight shrug that somehow perfectly conveyed “probably.”

“Underwear night!” Aiden announced triumphantly. “At Under Colfax. Tonight.”

I blinked at him. “Underwear night?”

“It’s exactly what it sounds like. Everyone strips down to their underwear at the door. It’s hot, it’s fun, and—” Aiden’s eyes gleamed with mischief. “—it’s the perfect opportunity to make Dylan jealous.”

“Jealous?” I felt my eyebrows shoot up. “I don’t think that’s—”

“Trust me, Dylan talks a big game about not caring, but he gets possessive as fuck. Cash thinks so too.”

Cash didn’t confirm or deny this, but his expression was thoughtful.

“You’ll come in your hottest underwear, looking like a whole snack,” Aiden continued, gesturing at my body. “Let some other guys flirt with you. Dance with a few. Nothing serious, just enough to light a fire under Dylan’s ass.”

“I don’t know, Aiden. That seems like playing games.” I frowned. “I want him to be honest about his feelings, not manipulate him into a jealous rage.”

“It’s not manipulation, it’s strategy.” Aiden waved away my concern. “Sometimes guys like Dylan need a kick in the pants to realize what’s right in front of them.”

Cash gently squeezed Aiden’s shoulder, and something passed between them—one of those wordless exchanges that made me ache with envy.

“Fine, Cash is right. Maybe the jealousy angle is a bit much,” Aiden conceded. “But underwear night is still a good idea. You can have some fun together.”

I couldn’t deny I was intrigued. “I’ve never been to an underwear night.”

“It’s a blast! Everyone’s in the same boat—literally in their underwear—so there’s this weird sense of community.” Aiden grinned. “Plus, the eye candy is spectacular.”

Cash cleared his throat, and Aiden laughed, wrapping an arp around him. “Don’t worry, babe. You know you’re the only eye candy I need.” He turned back to me. “Cash is fucking stacked in his boxer briefs. Arms, chest, thighs—the whole package. Literally.”

I couldn’t help but smile at their interaction—the ease between them, the obvious affection. It gave me hope. If these two had found their way to each other, maybe there was a chance for me and Dylan too.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m in for underwear night. But no scheming to make Dylan jealous.”

“Deal!” Aiden beamed, then added in a stage whisper, “But if some hot guy asks you to dance, you should definitely say yes. For science.”

Cash rolled his eyes, but there was unmistakable fondness in his expression.

“Just text me the details,” I said, pushing off from my truck. “I should get going. Need to pack up my stuff at Liv’s, get ready to head back to the Springs.”

As I got back in my truck, I watched Aiden and Cash head toward the FRMC entrance, Aiden’s hand tucked into Cash’s back pocket. Such a small gesture, but so intimate. So certain.

I wanted that certainty. That confidence. The knowledge that whatever happened, we’d figure it out together. And I wanted it with Dylan.