The Biker's Rules
I fight it — fight the panic, the monsters, the urge to fold in on myself.
I’ve never told anybody that last part, not ever.
“Your first demon,” Mel whispers.
No pity. Just sadness. Understanding.
She kisses my shoulder and pulls me into her, holding me like she can keep me together by sheer will.
Somehow, impossibly, it helps. I wrap my arms around her and press my lips to the top of her head, breathing her in like oxygen.
“How many more are there?” she asks.
I snort weakly. “I’ve never counted. At least three.”