Page 12 of Under My Skin

Chapter Twelve

EVERETT

The apartment is always quiet when I duck out for my early morning ride, but I’m not used to having to tiptoe around a sleeping Lucy on the couch.

Simon sleeps like he’s dead, and his bedroom door is always shut.

I could probably make myself a smoothie and he’d be none the wiser, but Lucy?

I have no idea how she sleeps. Peacefully from the looks of it.

Her blonde hair is up in a messy bun, her body nestled beneath Simon’s throw.

She has the blanket pulled up and almost over her face as she sleeps on her side, and I wonder if she was cold last night.

The weather isn’t bad yet, but the temperatures are dropping.

I wanted to offer her my bed last night, but she fell asleep before I could.

Simon and I agreed not to wake her and went our separate ways, but knowing she was out here with no one but her cat didn’t sit right with me.

She’s already having a hard time, and sleeping on Simon’s lumpy couch sure as hell won’t make things easier.

The fluffy feline is nestled between Lucy’s bent knees and elbows, like she made the perfect pocket for him to curl up against her stomach.

Pudge lifts his head, his blue eyes assessing me, and it’s only then that I remember I need to keep moving.

I can’t just stand here in biker gear, staring at Lucy while I hold my bed sheets bunched in my arms.

Taking a slow step backward, I wince when the hardwood floor creaks beneath my boot. Note to self: wait to put boots on until I’m outside.

Lucy takes a deep breath before stretching her legs out and blinking against the soft light poking through the curtains. “What are you doing?” she asks, her voice groggy with sleep as she rubs her eyes.

Thank God I haven’t put my helmet on yet. I probably would have given the girl a heart attack.

Before I can answer, she blinks a little more, her eyes finally settling on me. “Are you doing laundry? Now? What time is it?”

She looks around for her phone, but I answer before she has time to grab it. “A little before seven.”

She groans. “Why are you doing laundry so early?”

I shrug. “I’m always up early.” I’m whispering, and I have no idea why.

“I’m washing my sheets so you can have my room tonight.

” Technically, I wouldn’t call it my room.

It’s Simon’s extra room that he let me throw my shit in.

It’s basically an oversized storage closet with a bed, but at least it has a bed.

She blinks. “What?”

“You know, so you can sleep on an actual bed.”

She goes to sit up, but I wave her back down.

“Don’t bother arguing with me. This is happening.”

She’s propped up on her elbows, her messy bun a little lopsided from whatever she put it through overnight, but those bright blue eyes are so fucking clear, even with it being early. Her mouth opens for a moment like she isn’t sure what to say until she blurts, “Where are you going?”

“For a ride. Go back to sleep, Luce.”

Before she can say anything else, I turn and head toward the laundry closet in the kitchen. I toss the sheets in the machine and get the load started, glad she’s already awake once the thing starts beeping with every press of a button.

Once the load has started, I reach for my helmet and keys on the kitchen counter. Peering toward the couch, I look for any sign of Lucy, but I can’t see her head over the back of the couch. She must have gone back to sleep, or at least she’s trying to.

With lighter footsteps, I sneak outside with my helmet tucked under my arm and breathe in the fresh mountain air. My bike sits in the same spot it always does, fallen leaves scattered across the seat, and I pull my helmet over my head as I walk down the three steps to the parking lot.

I run my hand over the leather seat as soon as the bike is within reach, brushing small red and brown leaves to the pavement. It’s a gesture my dad did a million times, and I never really understood it. Now, for whatever reason, I find myself doing the same thing.

Actually, I find myself doing a lot of the things he did. This was always his ritual. He’d wake up early, before his nine to five, and go for a ride. He’d quietly sneak out of the house while we were all asleep—or so he thought—and roll the bike down the driveway so he didn’t wake us.

I was always awake. I loved watching him leave every morning. I’d look out my window through the blinds, just to watch him strap on his helmet, brush his hand over the leather seat, roll the bike down the driveway, and go. I guess it became my own ritual, too.

Securing my helmet, I swing my leg over the side of the bike. Part of me comes alive every time I sit for one of these rides. There’s something about starting the day with familiar, winding roads, mountain scenery, and the rumble of the engine beneath me.

Putting down the face shield, I bring the bike to life and slowly ease out of my parking spot. As much as I’ve adopted this ritual as my own, I don’t need to roll the bike to the main road in neutral. My drives aren’t quite as early as the ones he used to go on .

I pull onto the main road and head toward the secluded one lane mountain pass, the leaves churning up as my bike’s tires hug the asphalt with every curve.

I have no way of knowing if this is the same route my dad used to take.

I doubt it. I wish I would have asked him.

I wish I could drive the same roads and take the same turns that brought him solace.

Maybe then my own demons would stop chasing me.

It might not be the same roads, but the day after my dad had his heart attack, this is the route I took. I had never even given this road much thought. It wasn’t how I usually went anywhere. There was just something about the burnt orange trees and rolling hills that called to me that day.

At first, I only went for these rides after the hard days: the day after he passed, the day after the funeral, the day after helping my mom sort out finances.

The following morning, I always woke up needing an escape, and taking his bike out felt like the best way to do it.

It cleared my head—even if it was only temporary.

I’m not sure if the hard days got more frequent, or if I just liked the way getting up early and taking out his bike made me feel, but somewhere along the way, this became my daily routine.