Finding Kennedy

Chapter 14-Kennedy

It's been a few weeks since the incident at Maverick's house. I wouldn't even call it that, an incident, but just my own stupidity. There I was fumbling over my emotions over a guy, who is drool worthy to say the least, that I forget all about why I'm here.

My parents.

How in the world could I have forgotten. How was I able to have fun when they died?! Because of me!

To say I have sheltered down at Uncle Hank's house is a complete understatement. I would hang out in the yard, and when I hear the boys come in and hang out with Uncle Hank I hide in my bedroom and pretend I'm not feeling well.

I still went to work. I still feel his gaze watch over me every shift. Making sure I'm okay and safe. I don't go near him though, I can't in my right mind allow myself to be happy because then I forget about my parents. When I forget about them I start to sob uncontrollably. Peach doesn't push or ask if I'm okay, but she can tell.

I see my reflection in the mirror in front of me and I'm surprised I'm getting tips, because I have bags under my sunken eyes. I can't push myself to smile and so I look like a walking zombie.

But that stops today.

I give myself a determined nod, and pull my hair into a messy bun. I walk into my room and put on a pair of ripped jean shorts, a light blue tank top, and push into some worn out white converse sneakers.

I step outside and take a deep breath of the fresh air as if it's the first time I am experiencing it. I hop into my car and head out of the driveway.

With the sun shining, wind pressing through the windows and "Kokomo" from the Beach Boys blasting through the speakers, the drive was a breeze. I pulled into Uncle Hank's garage, where the door was left open and parked, noticing that there wasn't anyone here. I head over to Uncle Hank's office seeing a note placed on his computer monitor.

Out to lunch.

Don't come lookin'.

I'll be here when I'm back.

Chuckling, I head back to my car, pop the hood, and start tinkering around. Minutes later I hear a loud rumble growing stronger down the street. I peek around my car when the vibrations echo in the chest, seeing two men slow their motorcycles right in front of the shop. Dropping the kick stand down, swinging their legs over all three stands to full height.

What looked to me like the leader of the two, started to stalk over to me while the other trailed behind. He looked to be around 5'10" with a strong rugged build. His shirt tightly wrapped around his large muscles, black and gray tattoos drawn all down his left arm. Dark washed jeans tight against his thick thighs cuffing over a pair of worn black boots. His hair was as dark as his leather vest but a natural wavy style slightly pushed back out of his face. A strong jawline, slightly crooked nose, and bright blue eyes sparkling with curiosity as he looks me up head to toe.

Trailing his fingertips on the side of my Chevelle, a honey-like tone slips from his mouth, "What year is this beauty?" Stopping a footstep away, making me able to smell a cedar cologne from him.

"1969." I say in a daze from his rich eyes.

"Beautiful." He whispers as his eyes stay locked on me. "Even more so that you're driving it darlin'."

I feel a blush creep from my neck up to my cheeks, I duck my head for a moment.

"You should have seen her before." I drop the hood down and tap it twice. " She was a wreck, had to build her back up from the frame."

"No shit?"

I looked behind Mr. Rugged to see a 6'0" dirty blonde who spoke. He had more of a boy next door look than a typical biker. His hair slightly longer, lazily styled on his head, perfectly placed due to the wind from his ride. Thick eyebrows raised in shock above his ice blue eyes. A nose slightly upturned, full lips and stubble laid across his angled jaw. He too has muscles bulging from his white shirt, thick thighs encased in light jeans which have a silver chain hanging from the pocket. Worn black boots at his base and I notice he has knuckle tattoos on his right hand that said 'hope'.