05

𝓣𝓲𝓶

The engine roared to life beneath me, low and powerful, and before I could think twice, Frank pulled onto the road. I wrapped my arms around his waist out of instinct, my body reacting faster than my thoughts. The city fell away quickly, buildings thinning out, traffic fading, until the road curved upward and trees closed in around us.

The further we went, the more it felt like I was being pulled out of my own life, out of everything that had been weighing on me since the wedding. The grip around his waist tightened without me noticing, like my body was afraid to let go.

The wind was strong, cool against my face, carrying the smell of dirt and pine. It rushed past my ears, loud enough to drown out any thought that tried to surface. The road twisted and turned, narrow and steep, climbing higher with every bend.

I leaned with Frank without thinking, trusting him to handle the sharp curves, trusting that he wouldn’t let us crash even though a part of me was very aware of how easily things could go wrong.

Every time the bike tilted, my breath caught, but his control never wavered. That trust came too easily, and that scared me more than the speed.

Neither of us spoke. There was no need to. The sound of the motorcycle filled the space between us, steady and sure, vibrating through my bones.

For the first time since the wedding, since the bar, since waking up that morning beside someone I shouldn’t have, my mind felt quiet. The noise inside my head faded, replaced by the simple act of holding on and breathing.

I stopped thinking about Eric.

About Laura.

About what I had done.

There was only the road, the wind, and the warmth of Frank’s body in front of me.

When we finally stopped, we were at the top of the mountain. The city lights were far below us, scattered and distant like they belonged to another world. Up here, it was dark and quiet, the air thinner and colder.

Frank cut the engine and swung off the bike easily, like this was familiar ground. I climbed off more slowly, my legs stiff, my body reluctant to let go of the calm I had found during the ride.

“You okay?” he asked.

I nodded, pulling the helmet off and running a hand through my hair. “Yeah.”

The silence between us wasn’t awkward. It felt settled, like neither of us needed to fill it. We didn’t talk much as we gathered sticks and cleared a small area.

Frank moved like he had done this many times before, quick and confident, knowing exactly what to look for and where to place things. I watched him work, feeling strangely out of place and completely at ease at the same time, like I didn’t belong here but also didn’t want to leave.

He crouched, struck a lighter, and within moments, a small fire came to life. The warmth spread quickly, chasing away the cold that had settled into my fingers and the tightness that had been sitting in my chest all day. The firelight danced over Frank’s face, softening the edges just enough to make him look almost ordinary.

Frank reached into his jacket and pulled out two beers.

I stared. “Did you just… carry those up here?”

He smirked and tossed one to me. “You’d be surprised what I carry.”

I caught it and laughed despite myself, the sound coming easier than I expected. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Drink,” he said, sitting back against a rock like he had all the time in the world.

I joined him, sitting close enough to feel the warmth of the fire and, faintly, his body heat too. We drank in silence for a bit, listening to the crackle of the fire and the distant sounds of the night. The quiet wasn’t empty. It was full in a way that made my chest ache softly.

This felt unreal. Like something borrowed. Like a pause in a life that didn’t usually allow pauses. I knew moments like this didn’t last, and that knowledge made every second feel heavier.

My eyes drifted to his arms, to his chest, to the scars I had noticed that morning but hadn’t asked about. The firelight made them stand out more clearly now, tracing lines across his skin that told stories I didn’t know. My doctor’s instincts stirred, mixed with something more personal, something I didn’t want to name.

“How did you get those?” I asked before I could stop myself.

Frank didn’t answer right away. He took another sip of beer and stared into the fire, his face unreadable.

“Which ones?” he asked casually.

“All of them,” I said.

He laughed softly, but there was no humor in it.“That’s a long story.”

“I’m not asking for details,” I replied. “Just curious.”

He glanced at me, then away again. “Work accidents.”

I frowned. “That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.”

I sighed. “You’re avoiding the question.”

“And you’re poking your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

I shot him a look. “You’re sitting half-naked in front of a doctor covered in scars. What did you expect?”

He chuckled. “Fair point.”

We went back and forth like that, small jabs, easy words, nothing sharp enough to hurt. It felt strange how natural it was, like we had known each other longer than we had, like this wasn’t something that had started by accident.

The fire burned steadily between us, and for a moment, I forgot everything else. Forgot the weight of being needed by someone who would never choose me.

My phone rang, the sound cut through the quietness that had settled between us.

I froze when I saw Eric’s name on the screen, the calm shattering instantly. My chest tightened before I even answered.

“What is it?” Frank asked, his voice alert now.

I hesitated, then answered. “Eric?”

His voice was rushed, tight with panic. “Tim, something happened. Laura fell into the water.”

My chest tightened further. “Is she okay?”

“She’s at the hospital. They say she’s stable, but I want you to check on her. Please.”

I closed my eyes briefly, my shoulders sagging. Of course he did. Of course he called me.

“I’ll come,” I said. “I’ll check on her.”

I ended the call and stared at the phone for a second longer than necessary, wishing I could turn it off, wishing I could pretend I hadn’t heard it.

Frank watched me carefully. “Hospital?”

“Yes.”

“My brother’s wife?” he asked.

I nodded.

He shrugged, like he didn’t care, but I noticed the tension in his jaw. “Go if you want.”

I stood, brushing dirt off my pants, already feeling the weight return. “I have to.”

Frank didn’t move. He didn’t offer to take me down. He just watched the fire, the flames reflected in his eyes. When I turned back to him, I felt the need to say something, to leave something honest behind.

“I want you to know something,” I said.

He looked up.

“No matter what happens,” I said, choosing my words carefully, my voice quieter now, “I trust you to be a good person. I won’t tell anyone about your scars. Or about… us.”

Something changed in his expression. The teasing ease slipped away, slow and deliberate, like he was setting something down. He studied me for a moment, eyes were sharp and unreadable.

“And what exactly do you think you know?” he asked, his voice calm but sharp at the edges.

I didn’t answer right away. He didn’t either. The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy, filled with things neither of us wanted to say out loud.

“Instincts,” I finally said, “I trust my instincts about you.”

He let out a short laugh, but it didn’t sound amused. I couldn’t tell if he was mocking me or something else. For a second, the smile on his face slipped, and I caught a hint of sadness in his eyes, hidden behind the easy look he always wore.

Then his gaze settled on mine, steady and serious. It felt like he was letting me see past the mischievous facade he had on, just a little.

“You shouldn’t go,” he said quietly.

I frowned. “What?”

“Nothing good will come from it,” he continued. “I know Eric. I know Laura. This won’t end well.”

There was something in his eyes then. Not anger. Not jealousy. Something closer to warning. To concern. It made my chest tighten in a different way.

“I can’t ignore it,” I said, even though a part of me wanted to.

Frank looked back at the fire, his jaw tight, his shoulders stiff. “Suit yourself.”

He didn’t stand. He didn’t look at me again.

I waited a moment, the distance between us suddenly feeling heavy and final. “Can you… take me down?”

He didn’t answer.

The silence stretched, long and uncomfortable, filled with everything neither of us was saying.

“I’ll walk,” I said finally.