Free Break Through by Amber Garza Page B

would give me closer. Maybe it was this man.
    “You really can ride your own bike if you want.” He winked.
    “Thanks, but I think I’ll try out one of yours.” I grinned as I closed the garage door, locking my memories inside. Then I followed him back to the bikes in the driveway.
    “If I would’ve known the style you prefer , I would’ve brought you a basket,” he joked.
    “Very funny.” I realized that this bantering thing was getting easier every day.
    Riding a bike, on the other hand, wasn’t as easy. Whoever made up the phrase “just like riding a bike” obviously hadn’t gotten on a bike after fifteen years of not riding one. The bike wobbled beneath me, my body teetering back and forth as I attempted to pedal and keep steady.
    “You okay?” Carter asked as he rode with ease beside me.
    “Yeah.” I nodded, and almost toppled over. Righting the bike, I felt stupid.
    “I did offer to teach you.”
    “Shut up,” I teased, as I white-knuckled the handle bars.
    “You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep gripping that hard,” Carter said.
    “Thanks for all the help. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said sourly.
    “You’ve turned into a sarcastic little thing.”
    His words bothered me. “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be. I like it.” He tipped his head before passing me. “You’re coming out of your shell.”
    I pedaled faster to keep up. Pretty soon I was teetering less, finding my rhythm. May be this was what the phrase meant. Not that you would get it right away, but that eventually it would come to you.
    “Where are we going?” I asked , as we headed away from my property.
    “You’ll see.”
    I swallowed hard, a little discomforted by the fact that we were so far from my home, the one place in the world I felt safe. But I trusted Carter, so I kept riding. The breeze blew over my face and arms, the sun warmed my flesh. When I inhaled I caught a whiff of grass and flowers. The road we were on was desolate. Fields flanked us. Cows lazily chewed grass. They reminded me of Mom and our kitchen full of cows. Only these ones weren’t smiling or sitting down in a way that would be impossible for a real cow.
    We rode over a hill and around a corner. Carter led me on a trail covered in bushy trees. Nerves filled me when I realized no one could see us. But I kept my fear in check, reminding myself that Carter would never hurt me. Not all men were like Kurt. I had to remember that.
    When the trail opened up, I gasped. In front of us was a field of bright pink and purple flowers. I was so entranced with it, I forgot to pedal. My bike halted, and I was thrown off. My body lurched to the ground. I held my hands out and they got the brunt of my fall, my palms scraping across the dirt. When the pain shot through my hands I bit my tongue, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
    “Oh my god. Aspen? Are you okay?” Carter’s bike hit the ground and he sank to his knees beside me.
    I sat up, a little disoriented, but other than that I was okay. My hands were bloodied, but the rest of my body seemed unharmed.
    “Here.” Carter squirted some water from his plastic water bottle over my palms.
    It stung a little, and I hissed.
    “I’m so sorry.”
    “It’s no biggie. Really.” I smiled. “It was fun.”
    “Falling?”
    “No. That I could’ve done without, but the ride was fun.” My gaze slid over his shoulder. “And this is breathtaking.”
    “I knew you’d love it.” The colorful flowers reflected in his eyes , and I thought it might be the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.
    Carter stood and held his hand out to me. I extended my arm , and he yanked me up.
    “Too bad I didn’t bring a first aid kit.” He picked up one of my hands, inspecting it. “ Are you gonna be okay to bike home?”
    I nodded, pulling my hand back. While I liked that Carter was concerned about me, he didn’t need to be. I didn’t care that I fell , actually. It made me feel alive. I