Free All the Way by Kristi Avalon

caught in Blake’s chest. When Layla smiled like this, totally candid, as if any moment she might burst into unrestrained laughter, he turned cartwheels inside.
    It was a feeling he’d never experienced with anyone else. She had something different, something more. Some things in life you just knew. Like the day he met her, he just knew she was special.
    Blake shook his head at himself. That was a long time ago. A lot had happened since that day. Too much.
    He adopted a careless expression. “Think you can throw your stuff together in a hurry? Remember to pack light. Not much trunk space on a Harley.”
    “No kidding.” She passed a tentative glance over his bike. “I never thought I’d be able to ride again. I still don’t know if I can.”
    “It’ll be great,” he assured her. “I promise.”

 
     
     
     
     

Chapter 5
     
     
    It was a nightmare.
    Layla should have known better than to trust a promise of Blake’s.
    Though the helmet imparted an illusion of safety, she would have preferred burying her face into his wide, muscular back. Unfortunately, she couldn’t tuck her head between his shoulder blades and hold on for dear life. His leather jacket felt slippery against her sweating palms.
    At the bottom of an entrance ramp to the freeway, poised at a light, Layla fought the queasy feeling in her stomach. Blake revved the motor. The engine worked into a thunderous roar. When the light turned green they blasted up the ramp like a shot from a gun.
    The force of their momentum threw off her balance. Their helmets smacked against each other. He tried to scoot up to give her more space. Layla followed, refusing to put any distance between them. She wanted to straighten her helmet, but she couldn’t stand the thought of letting go of him, even for a second.
    If he’d gunned the motorcycle on purpose, she would tan his hide—all six feet, three inches of it. She ignored that minor logistic, pinching him as a warning of the wrath to come.
    Then she peeked through her lashes. A legion of cars and trucks surrounded them, all going sixty-five miles an hour. She shut her eyes tight.
    “Breathe. Just keep breathing.” She sounded like Darth Vader in this helmet. In an ominous tone, she recited, “ Luke, I am your father .”
    I’ve lost it. I’m certifiably nuts .
    Being on this motorcycle was proof. She knew it beyond a doubt when the knots inside her stomach actually began to unfurl.
    Readjusting her Heimlich hold around Blake’s middle, she felt the gut-clenching fear gradually subside. After a while of bumping along—getting used to the heavy vibration under her, the sounds, Blake’s movements as he steered the motorcycle like a fearless captain braves the seas—Layla relaxed to the point of blinking her eyes open.
    The scenery along the highway skimmed past in a blur. The endless white line to her right directed their course. The repetitive rhythm of it all lulled her. Surprisingly, the cold sweat that had beaded on her forehead began to dry. They hadn’t wrecked. Their lives were still intact. The motorcycle roared along like a beast set loose to happily roam in the great wide open. Breathing came a little easier.
    After about an hour on the road, she even loosened her tight grip around Blake. Slightly. She waited. Nothing awful happened. Everything was…okay.
    Careful not to bang her helmet into his, she took in the scenery flying by. Suburbs. Woods. Farmland. Then the view became clearer. Kids throwing a football inside a backyard fence. The graceful slope of pine branches bowing drowsily amongst the sun-drenched leaves of sugar-maple trees. The comforting sight of a big red barn squatting amidst cornrows, swaying fields of wheat, pastures spotted with grazing horses. She could’ve wandered into a Thomas Kincaid painting. Slices of Americana, glimpses into scenes she would’ve missed if she’d been in her car, absently driving along the highway.
    A hypnotic peace descended on her. It felt so