Aliyah's POV
The morning air was damp and cool, the kind that clung to my skin and made the inside of my nose tingle. I woke to the sound of metal clinking, followed by the low scrape of a wrench against something solid.
When I unzipped the tent flap, Asher was crouched beside his bike, sleeves shoved up, hands dark with grease. The sun hadn't fully broken through the clouds yet, but a soft pale light pooled over him, catching on the line of his jaw.
"Morning," he said without looking up.
"Morning," I murmured, stepping out barefoot. The sand was cold under my toes.
I tried to focus on the horizon, to act normal, but a dull cramp tightened low in my stomach. My fingers pressed there automatically. Not sharp enough to double me over, but enough to remind me of the strip hidden in my bag.
Asher tightened a bolt and sat back on his heels, wiping his hands on a rag. "The chain was loose," he said. "Could've been bad on the road."
I nodded like I understood, though my head was full of anything but bike chains.
The rumble of another engine rolled in from the road behind the dunes. A minute later, a scrawny figure on a red motorcycle zipped down the sand path, slowing when he spotted us.
The rider killed the engine and swung off, tugging off his helmet to reveal a mop of messy blond hair. He grinned wide.
"Asher, you son of a bitch," he called, walking over with long, awkward strides.
Asher's mouth lifted in an almost-smile. "Jax."
The kid — couldn't have been older than twenty — gave him a quick backslap hug, smelling faintly of gasoline and cheap cologne. His jacket was patched with the name of a small local club I didn't recognize.
"Didn't expect to see you all the way out here," Jax said, glancing around. His gaze landed briefly on me, curious but not unfriendly.
"Passing through," Asher replied.
Jax smirked. "Yeah? Heard you were… avoiding some stuff back home." His voice had that careless lilt, but there was something under it, like he was fishing for a reaction.
I bent down to brush sand off my ankle, pretending not to listen, though every nerve strained toward their voices.
"Rumors," Asher said flatly, but Jax laughed like he didn't buy it.
They talked about mutual friends, a poker night gone wrong, some "vote" that hadn't gone the way Asher wanted. I caught half-sentences — "He's pushing too hard" and "Not ready to deal with it yet" — and each scrap made me more curious.
My cramp returned, sharper this time, and I shifted my weight to hide the discomfort.
Eventually, Jax mounted his bike again. "I'll see you around, Prez," he said with a two-finger salute before roaring back toward the road.
The beach went quiet except for the waves.
Asher glanced at me. "Hungry?"
I blinked. "What?"
"There's a diner a few miles inland. Good coffee, terrible pie. You should try it."
"I don't think—"
"Come on. You've been living on crackers and tea for how long now?" His tone was easy, but there was that glint in his eye, like he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
I crossed my arms. "I'm fine here."
He studied me for a moment, then simply said, "Ride with me."
Part of me wanted to refuse again. The other part — the one that knew keeping him close was the only way to manage… everything — told me to go.
"Fine," I said finally. "But I'm not eating pie."
His mouth twitched. "We'll see."
We packed up the tent quickly. The engine roared to life beneath us, and soon the wind was biting my cheeks, my arms snug around his waist. The road wound through low hills and patches of scrub pine, the air smelling faintly of damp earth and salt.
The diner was the kind that looked like it had been there forever — chrome siding dulled by years of rain, a faded sign buzzing faintly above the door. Inside, the scent of frying bacon and burnt coffee wrapped around me.
A waitress with a beehive hairdo and a name tag that read Gloria led us to a booth by the window. The vinyl seat was cracked, and a jukebox in the corner played an old country song too softly to catch all the words.
Asher ordered coffee and eggs. I asked for toast, though my stomach still felt tight.
I had to find a way to get a better blood pregnancy test to confirm my test kit but openly tell Asher I wanted to go to a clinic or pharmacy, he would ask why.
And I'm not ready to tell him he's going to be a father soon.
Nah I wasn't prepared for such conversation. I just have to pend it until I'm all alone.
Which I hope would be soon enough.
We didn't talk much while eating, but the silence wasn't heavy. He caught me watching him once, and the corner of his mouth curled in the smallest smile.
I wanted to return the smile back but I felt awkward.
Gloria came by twice, topping off his mug. The place slowly filled — a man in work overalls reading the paper at the counter, two teenage girls giggling over milkshakes.
When the check came, Asher slid a couple of bills onto the table and stood.
"I'll be outside," he said.
I nodded, taking a sip of water before following. The sunlight outside was sharper now, reflecting off the chrome siding.
Rounding the corner of the building, I spotted him by the bikes.
Jax was there, helmet tucked under his arm. His voice was low, urgent. Asher's posture was tense, his head bent toward the younger man.
I slowed my steps just enough to catch it.
"…Aliyah," Jax was saying. My name. Plain as day.
Asher's gaze flicked up when he heard me, his expression unreadable.
The cramp in my stomach twisted hard.