Page 49 of My Sweetest Agony

He stares down at it for a few seconds, swallowing thickly and then squeezing his eyes shut. A minute passes. Another. Time seems to drag on as he processes the thoughts in his head.

My chest tightens looking at Cam holding that box. The way his head is dipped. His knuckles white clutching the cardboard. The tremble of his body. How his lips part slightly, as if he wants to say something but can’t or won’t.

I’ve spent so much time wallowing in my own grief, in allowing myself to drown in it, that seeing his and how closely it matches mine jerks something loose deep inside me. A sense of feeling seen and being able to see something in him that no one else does.

He finally looks up at me, his eyes watery, but he manages to keep his tears at bay. “You ready?”

For what?

My first motorcycle ride?

My first crime?

Or to say goodbye to Drew?

Even though the word “no” burns on my tongue, Cam’s firm grip on the box and the strength and confidence he exudes as he approaches me cautiously prevents me from saying it.

I nod. “I am.”

He gives me a soft smile, as if he knows I was about to answer differently. Because he always seems to sense what I’m really feeling, even when I do my best to hide it.

Stepping behind me, he shifts the box to one hand and presses his palm against my lower back, urging me toward the door. Offering me his assurance that we’re doing the right thing, even when I’m not as confident that I can survive it.

But that steady hand keeps me moving forward. It stays with me while I open the door and step out onto the porch. It remains when I turn to lock it behind us and slip the key into my jeans’ pocket and as we walk down to the street where his bike is parked.

The crickets continue to chirp. The branches and leaves continue to sway in the summer breeze. And I’m frozen in place. Not sure what to do.

Cam’s touch disappears, and he steps around me to open his saddlebag. He pulls out a helmet and hands it back to me before carefully placing the box inside and securing it.

When he turns to me, he holds out his hand, and I take a deep breath before sliding mine into it. Squeezing gently, encouraging me through the thoughts that threaten to derail our plans, he leads me around the bike.

On the other side, he takes the helmet from me and settles it on my head, securing the strap at my chin. The corners of his lips tip up.

“What?”

His grin deepens. “It looks good on you.”

My cheeks heat at the compliment, and he turns and swings his leg over the bike, settling easily onto it, looking like it was made for him, or him for it.

I chew on my bottom lip as I look at the space on the seat behind him.

We’re going to be close.

Very close.

With Drew at my side.

Something about that just feels right.

It allows me to push away the remaining reservations.

Cam extends a hand, and I accept it, allowing him to help me slide my leg across the seat and settle behind him. He keeps his eyes on me over his shoulder. “Wrap your arms around me and hold on tight. Lean into the turns, and you’ll be fine.”

Somehow, I believe him, despite everything.

There’s so much confidence in the way he says it. In the strength of his body pressed to mine. His unwavering voice.

I nod my understanding and wrap my arms around his torso.