Page 86 of Not Her Day to Die

Sunday will never be hurt on my account.

Placing her onto the pavement, she stares up at him heaving and huffing. A street light, a sliver of moon, and stars are the only sources of light as he takes her in. She’s in a thin shirt and shorts, her nipples poking out of the material, her hair a wild mess, her eyes bright, her cheeks flush as she pants in and out.

Even in October, it is still hot here and he can already feel the sweat forming in his jacket.

“Axel!”

He doesn’t give her too much time to argue. Lifting the helmet off his bike he places it over her, clipping it into place.

He throws a leg over the bike, twisting around to help her on.

“Hold on tight,” he tells her.

She does as commanded, her small hands burying into his leather jacket, the helmet pressing into him from behind.

Once he is satisfied, he takes off. When this began, he didn’t have a place in mind, but now he does.

He drives towards their restaurant, and then goes a bit further down a trail that leads to a private section of river. Trees surround them on all sides, and it’s nothing but darkness in their depths. Crickets chirp and frogs croak loudly as they continue on towards their destination.

It’s where he used to go when he needed a break from his brothers. He had never taken anyone else out here.

Until now.

Sunday’s hold tightens on him as they make their way along the unpaved road and slow to a crawl.

Out here the only light is from his motorcycle, the moon, and the stars.

I want more than anything for the stars to just disappear.

In some ways they remind him of Sunday, but in others they are a constant reminder of the suffering they were all forced to endure.

The woods thin and then they come to an open area. He brings them to a stop.

“Did you drag me out here to kill me?” Sunday grumbles, shivering against his back.

“I wouldn’t have gone through all this,” Axel snarks, getting off the bike before helping her.

On two feet, she wrenches the helmet off herself, her eyes flickering around. They land on the river only ten feet away, the moon reflecting in the water.

“It’s pretty out here, in an eerie and creepy kind of way.”

Axel laughs.

“It’s not funny!” Sunday turns to him. “I was half asleep, I heard a noise, and when I followed it, you were just standing in my bathroom all scary and sad-like. And then you dragged me out of the house in my pajamas to a wooded area, near a river, inFlorida. Which, mind you, might have alligators in it! Or even crocodiles because those have taken hold here, too. And all of that after the fact that you up and disappeared along with Grayson after Darius and I told you what happened.” Sunday isn’t screaming, but the words are heated laced in anger and irritation.

Axel cocks his head as he watches her displeasure take hold, listens as her indignation raises her voice a few octaves, smells the air as her floral scent intertwines with the trees and water surrounding them. Not nearly salty but just on the cusp.

Sunday is still laying into him, but his mind has shifted. He lunges forward taking her cheeks in his hands, covering her lips with his thumbs.

“Do I remind you of Tripp? Am I his replacement?” The questions come from a very deep dark place inside of Axel. Each timeline, he had pushed them further and further down. Forced them to remain buried.

But out here? In his most sacred spot? Where he would scream his anger out into the world?

They come out easily.

Sunday’s face slackens, her mouth opens causing his thumbs to shift across her soft lips. Her eyebrows furrow before her gaze meets his.

The next words she speaks are even. Level. “I loved Tripp with all of my heart. All of it,” Sunday whispers hoarsely.