Page 85 of Rory Rides Her Fake Fiancé
She slaps her knee. “Well, then you have my blessing to go get him.”
“But what about you? You don’t like it here.”
She waves my concern away. “It’s true that I don’t like it here in the independent living community. But I like Here. Who knows, maybe I can convince Janet to move into a house with me and we can hire twenty-four-seven care and form a commune.”
I raise an eyebrow. “As in . . . a lover?”
“Good grief. I like the woman, but not enough to give up my hopes and dreams of snagging a younger man. And you know I like the di?—”
“Stop!” I cry, throwing up my hands. I get to my feet. “And with that thought, I’m going to go talk to Morgan.”
Grandma looks smugly at me. “Good. You know what those Herevians say, don’t you?”
“You belong Here,” we say together.
For the first time, I think that just might be true.
Rory
* * *
I zoom along the road from Grandma’s place to On the Rocks, glad that it’s later than I normally show up and maybe the bar will be less crowded, quieter, and we can have an actual conversation.
It’s a cold night and I’m glad I threw another layer under my leather jacket. Of course, I have my gloves and boots on, cutting the chill down further.
The moon is out, bright and full ahead of me, and the street is fairly empty. One of the big turns is coming up, and I reach for the brake on the right handlebar, only to find air instead, and my stomach drops.
I fumble, reaching out, thinking for sure the brake is there somewhere, but it’s not. I break into a cold sweat and belatedly hit the pedal on the right foot peg, triggering the rear brake. It’s there, thank god, but because of the delay I’m now taking the turn too quickly and just barely manage to stay upright. The rear brake isn’t as powerful as the front brake, and I almost have too much momentum.
I slow, pulling over to the shoulder and easing to a stop. My knee jitters, and I don’t think I’m going to be able to hold the bike upright so I quickly engage the stand and hop off.
Yup, my knees are weak, I’m sweating under my clothes, and I feel like I can’t breathe.
That could have been bad—really bad. If I’d flown off the road at the curve, who knows how long it would have been until someone had found me. Morgan wasn’t expecting me, Grandma might assume I’d be gone all night.
I rip my helmet off and put my hands on my knees, taking big, gulping inhales of air. Did that really just happen? Even though the adrenaline that’s coursing through me is sharp and unpleasant, I still straighten up, grab my phone from my jacket pocket, and turn on the light. The brake handle can’t be gone. I’ve heard of this happening once before, but it was a mechanic’s error and I haven’t had anyone else touch my bike in ages. How would that have happened?
Maybe it’s because my flashlight is on, blinding me. Or maybe it’s that my bike is still on, the engine noise covering all other sounds up.
Either way, I don’t see the dark vehicle coming at me until it’s too late.
Morgan
* * *
There are three people left in the bar—one couple from out of town and a loner who makes me think of Rory, even though he’s a grumpy mid-fifties Latino.
I haven’t been having the best day. Or week, for that matter.
I miss Rory. Her stuff is gone, and Barty’s gone too. Princess is sad, moping around the house. But maybe she’s feeding off my energy.
My friends can tell too. Kit came by earlier to give me a big hug and Hunter’s been behind the bar with me. He told me to go home, but I didn’t want to. Maybe it was some ridiculous hope that Rory would still show up after visiting her grandmother.
To pass the time until the guests leave, Hunter and I play darts.
“With you joining the lodge, that makes five. I’m still hopeful that Kit will join somehow,” Hunter says.
Last week, I sold the ring. I contacted a few of the closest jewelers and the first one that got back to me drove all the way up here to buy the ring from me. So now I’m flush with cash and am a proud new member of the group chat for buying the lodge.
