Page 39 of Held-

“Anywhere,” I tell him honestly. “Just...not here.”

He nods, understanding without needing more explanation. That's the thing I’m learning about Brayden. He doesn't require the constant reassurances and justifications I've been trained to provide my entire life. He takes my hand and leads me to where his bike is parked just around the corner from the square. The massive machine gleams under the streetlights. Brayden pulls a helmet from his saddlebag and gently places it over my head, his fingers lingering as he fastens the strap under my chin before swinging his leg over the seat. I climb on behind him, wrapping my arms around his solid waist without hesitation this time. The engine roars to life between my thighs, sending vibrations through my entire body. I press myself against his back, seeking his warmth.

We pull away from the curb, leaving behind the twinkling lights and carolers, the hot chocolate and my father'sdisappointment. The cold wind stings my cheeks, but I don't care. For the first time in months, maybe years, I feel like I can breathe again.

CECE

I’ve never been muchof a runner, but right now my legs are carrying me out of the town square with a determination I didn’t know I had. Brayden’s bike rumbles beneath us, devouring the asphalt as the festival fades behind. The wind lashes at my cheeks, leaving them stinging, but I don’t care. All I register is the solid line of his back against my chest and the steady vibration of the engine beneath us.

“Hold tighter,” Brayden calls over his shoulder, and I react instantly, wrapping my arms around him until there’s no space left to close.

We take curves I’ve driven a hundred times, yet they feel transformed at this speed, on this machine, with him guiding us. Each bend pulls our bodies into the same motion, moving together as though this isn’t our first ride but our hundredth. The ease of it should unsettle me, but instead it feels as though I’ve stepped into something I’ve needed for a long time without realizing it.

I don’t ask where we’re going. For once, I don’t need a destination or a plan. Just being in motion—away from the stares, the whispers, and Ethan’s self-satisfied expression—is enough.

When Brayden finally eases off the throttle, we roll into the overlook above town. During the day, tourists stop here to photograph San Salona tucked in its valley, every storefront and rooftop arranged so neatly it could be framed. At night, the view shifts into a spread of twinkling lights, the entire town glowing below us, transformed into something almost enchanted from this distance—far enough that none of its flaws can reach me.

I suck in a breath as Brayden kills the engine. The sudden silence feels deafening after the constant roar of the motorcycle. My arms are still wrapped around him, my fingers clutching the leather of his cut.

“You can let go now,” he chuckles. “Or not. I'm good either way.”

I reluctantly loosen my grip and slide off the bike, my legs wobbly beneath me. The adrenaline that carried me through the confrontation with Ethan is starting to fade, leaving me shaky in its wake. Brayden swings his leg over the bike with an easy grace that makes something flutter in my stomach.

He takes off his helmet, running a hand through his dark hair, “You okay?”

“I think so,” I manage. “I just...I can't believe I did that.”

“Did what? Stood up to that asshole?” Brayden steps closer, close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body in the cold night air. “He deserved worse.”

“Not that.” I shake my head, fumbling with my helmet strap. “Left. In front of everyone. With you.”

His hands replace mine on the strap, gently undoing the buckle. “Regretting it already?”

“No,” I say quickly. Too quickly. “That's the scary part. I don't regret it at all.”

The helmet comes off, and the cold air slams into my face. I should be shivering at this height, yet Brayden’s presence seems to blunt the worst of it. Or maybe the rush of adrenaline still hasn’t settled.

“Come here,” he says, leading me to the wooden guardrail that separates the overlook from the steep drop below. “Look at it.”

San Salona glitters beneath us like fallen stars, the Christmas lights transforming the town into something beautiful and distant. From up here, you can't see the gossip and judgment, the narrow minds and narrower streets. Just light and possibility.

“It looks so small. So innocent.”

“Hard to believe it's the same place down there that we just left,” I murmur, wrapping my arms around myself against the chill.

“That's the thing about distance. It changes your perspective.”

He shrugs out of his cut and drapes it over my shoulders before I can protest. The leather is still warm from his body, and that intoxicating scent of him envelops me.

“I can't take this,” I protest, though I'm already sliding my arms through the arm holes.

“You're shivering,” he points out. “And I run hot.”

I run my fingers over the embroidered edges, feeling the worn leather beneath my fingertips.

“I know I am not that well versed in the whole biker culture, but are you supposed to just lend out your colors like this?” I ask, only half joking.

His mouth quirks up in that almost-smile that makes my heart stutter. “What they don't know won't hurt them.”