Chapter 12

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Sasha’s engine thrummed as the bike rolled through the ruined streets, the feel of the vehicle comforting under Mick’s hands. He had first gotten the Harley as a birthday gift from Eric when he turned fifteen. Donna had scowled and fussed, but Mick had fallen too in love with the vehicle to let it go. It had been an old, half-rusted thing, and he and Jai had taken to fixing it up like ducks to water. Mick had worked extra hours at his part-time job after school to buy the necessary parts, while Jai had watched his father work at the bikes and cars that came through their salvage yard. Within two months, the bike had been fixed to near perfection and had been christened as ‘Sasha’. Mick had kept the bike with the condition that Jai would be the only person who would ever tune it up.

Sasha had been a constant in his life through everything: Eric, Rachel, Dana, and now, Gabriel. Sometimes, Mick wondered if he should just stop with his ridiculous tendencies to take care of people and subsequently, getting attached to them. He always tried to give so much, he loved people too much, and everyone ended up leaving him. He always ended up alone, with only a Harley to be loyal to him.

He didn’t even know where he was driving. He couldn’t bear the idea of going to see Jai and Sam; he didn’t think he could face Sam after everything that he had confessed to her. If he went to the Horseshoe, Donna would revert to her treatment of him when he was a child and mother him to no end. He dimly wondered if he should do what Lenore had once tried to do and just leave the city, leave and unlike her, not come back. He could have a fresh start at a new life in a new place, anywhere that wasn’t Detroit.

But that would mean leaving everything behind. Sam would kill him. Jai would be furious. He couldn’t bear the idea of not seeing Tara again. Rooster would probably try to poison him for even thinking it. He didn’t even want to think of what Donna would do and Trish would see right through him.

Sasha’s front wheel suddenly struck a stray piece of meteor on the road and Mick was jerked out of his thoughts as the bike twisted wildly and he struggled to regain his balance. His vision blurred before his eyes and he gritted his teeth as he pressed the brakes. Sasha squealed to a slow halt and Mick’s boots dug into the pitted road, scattering pebbles and fragments of rock. He bent his head over the dashboard, trying to stifle the noises that rose in his throat. He felt tracks of heat moving down his cheeks and a sob burst from his lips. He gripped the Harley’s handles all the tighter, clinging one loyal thing he had in his life.

Something soft touched his hand and Mick jolted upwards in shock, staring wildly in the dim light. To his shock, Carly was standing next to him, holding his fingers in one hand as she stared up at him mutely. She blurred before his eyes and he blinked the moisture from them a few times before she fell into sharper focus. When he looked up, he saw that he was in front of Crossroads Books and the door was open, spilling out a fount of yellow light onto the street. Reid was standing in the doorway, holding a mug of coffee in one hand. Mick dimly realized that he had no idea of what Reid would say to him if he suddenly decided to leave Arcadia.

“Are you just going to sit there or are you coming in?” asked Reid.

Mick’s mouth moved up and down soundlessly and he glanced back at Carly, who tilted her head at him like a cat. She curled her fingers around his and squeezed his hand once. His mouth twisted into a sad smile and he dismounted from his bike, parking it in the side alley. Carly was still waiting for him with her usual blank face and Reid was watching him from the doorway. Mick tucked his keys into his pocket, stowed his helmet under one arm, and as an afterthought, took the file out of the storage bag and shoved it into an inside pocket in his jacket. When he exited the alleyway, Carly took his hand and led him into the shop.

Mick followed the girl as she led him into the central reading area in the shop and made him sit down. He obeyed her without a word, feeling too hollow to react at all. Reid switched off the lights in the front of the shop and Mick heard the turn of the key before he stepped back into the light. Reid shuffled between two tables and took a seat on a small sofa in front of him, sipping at his coffee. Mick studied his face absently: he rarely noticed the small lines that were etched across Reid’s forehead and at the corners of his eyes. When he wasn’t beaming or acting purposefully silly, he looked older than he actually was.

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