Hallowed Ground

He wiggled his unencumbered fingers. “I can drive it just fine; that’s how I got it here. If anything, it’ll keep me from going too fast, right?”

“This is insane.”

He took my hands and kissed my fingers. “Please? December, I want to show you this place like I remember it, not just let my mom tour-guide you like the last time. I will literally give you anything you want if you ride with me.”

My teeth worried my lower lip while I debated. “It doesn’t even have a sissy bar. I’ll fall off.”

His smile was instant, and gorgeous, damn him. “First, I’d never let that happen, and second, it’s just an excuse to hold on tighter.”

“Anything I want?” Maybe this could be good. Maybe we could use this time together to recharge, not forget what had happened in the last month, but to see past it to where it was just us again.

“Anything you want,” he promised.

Tonight was going to suck.

“Fine. I want you to get off my butt about Turkey. For the remainder of the trip, don’t bring it up or try to change my mind.”

The muscle in his jaw ticked, but he nodded. “Deal. Anything else?”

“As long as I’m on the back of that bike, you do the speed limit.”

A wicked grin caressed his lips. “Deal.”

“And shower first.”

“Now you’re getting picky,” he called, already on his way to the bathroom.

I picked up the white and pink helmet that matched everything he’d ordered. “When in Rome, right?” I asked it. “Or Arizona.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

EMBER

I kept my body plastered to Josh’s back as the highway flew beneath us at a dizzying speed. It wasn’t that I hated motorcycles really, or that I didn’t trust Josh. He was one of those guys with a gift for driving, flying…anything where he became part of the machine.

My dislike of motorcycles was that I felt like we hovered just an instant away from death. One miscalculation, one shift of weight, one car not paying attention, and we’d be hurled from the bike, our bodies still going seventy-five miles an hour.

Riding a motorcycle reminded me constantly how delicate my life was, how easy it was to die, which made me nervous, anxious for safety. But for Josh, it did the opposite, feeding his need to walk that delicate line, to push just a little further over the line… One percent over.

Our disagreement over this bike stemmed from the simple fact that I saw it as a way to die, and Josh needed it as a way to live. And maybe I hated the bike even more for it, like it was this dirty little mistress lurking in a corner of his mind, ready to steal him away from me at the first opportunity.

We rode for entirely too long until Josh pulled off onto a smaller road, reaching a giant sign that read BARRINGER CRATER.

A small ridgeline loomed before us as we parked the Ducati. I took off my jacket and protective pants, revealing shorts and a pink, halter-neck tank. The gear was meant for hot-weather riding, but there was zero chance I was hiking around in pants and long sleeves, not in a hundred degrees. Josh did the same, packing it all into my backpack before carrying it himself.

“Ready?” he asked, holding out his hand.

“Sure,” I said, intertwining our fingers perfectly. We hiked the short distance to the top of the ridge, the heat dry but still oppressive. The sun was setting as we crested the incline, casting the desert sky in gorgeous swirls of orange and pink.

“Wow.” The crater was huge—maybe “vast” was a better word. “It makes me feel so…”

“Small?” Josh supplied.

“Yeah,” I answered, trying to get some kind of perspective on the sheer size. Even the little astronaut cutout far at the bottom wasn’t helping me get a grasp. It was hard to keep my eyes on the steps as we descended a little ways into the crater.

“Hey, we’re closing soon,” one of the attendants told us as we passed by the red brick museum. By the looks of the empty path, we were the last ones there.

“We don’t need much time,” Josh promised.

The guy nodded with a reluctant sigh and let us pass. At least running had kept me in fairly good shape—I wasn’t too badly winded by the hike. I was, however, a sweaty mess. I forgot all about the heat, even the damn motorcycle ride, with every step onto the metal observation deck.

“I used to come here when I was having a bad day,” Josh said, “or if I needed a little jolt to remind me just how small everything is when you step back and really look at the big picture.”

“And now?” I asked.

“Now it speaks to a different part of me.” He stared into the distance with a look I knew all too well, and I couldn’t help but wonder if he was really here with me, or thinking about the crash.

“It’s huge,” I said, hoping to bring him back.

“About three-quarters of a mile across and over five hundred feet deep.” He leaned on his elbows, looking over the metal railing.

“And the meteor that caused it all?”

He gave me that deer-in-the-headlights expression that told me I’d be better off Googling. I laughed and pulled out my cell phone. “No problem.” A few swipes later and I had all the information I’d ever want on the crater. I scanned through it quickly. “They think it was one hundred and sixty feet across.”

“So little compared to all of this.”

I scanned through the rest of the article. “Sometimes the littlest catalysts cause the biggest impacts.”