All Chapters of Love On Two Wheels : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

40 Chapters

Prologue/ Chapter 1

PrologueJoan’s POV The first time my phone rang, I didn’t answer.It was past midnight, and I was still wide awake, lying in the dark with my heart trying to slow itself down. I told myself it was just nerves. Tomorrow or today, technically I was getting married. The venue was set. My dress was pressed. My father had kissed my forehead three times before bed and whispered, “You’ve got this.”So when my phone lit up for the second time with the same number I finally picked it up.“Hello?”There was silence on the other end. Muffled noise. A clink of glass. Then his voice came through, thick and slow like honey gone sour.“I just wanted to say... I’m proud of you.”I paused. “Who is this?”He didn’t answer my question. Just kept talking.“You made something real. You built something out of nothing. That’s rare, y’know? You’ve always been rare.”My throat tightened. I knew that voice. I’d memorized it. Slept beside it. Built a life on it.It was Darren.But something about the way he

chapter 2

“I can’t,” he said.The words weren’t loud. They didn’t need to be.Everything stopped.“I can’t do this,” he repeated, louder this time. “I thought I could, but I’d be lying.”He turned to me, eyes full of guilt, but no apology.“I’m in love with her, Joan. I tried to move on, but I never stopped loving Vanessa. And now… now she’s carrying my child. I think… I think that’s a sign.”The air left my lungs.Darren stepped back from me like I was something he’d outgrown. I didn’t move. Couldn’t. My body was too heavy. My dress felt like it was suffocating me. All I could do was stare as he walked down the aisle toward her.Vanessa stood waiting, arms folded like she knew he’d choose her all along.He pulled out the ring meant for me, and dropped to one knee in front of her.Right there.In front of me.In front of everyone.“Vanessa,” he said, smiling like the world hadn’t just cracked open, “will you marry me?”She laughed, dramatic and delighted.“Yes, of course,” she said. “I thought

chapter 3

Cremation was colder than I expected, not the process, but the silence. The finality of it.I stood in the crematorium chapel, alone in black, arms crossed. No crowd, no eulogies, just the hum of the air conditioner and flickering fluorescent lights.There was no one to invite. My father had no close family. Just me. Always just me.He was well-liked in the community, known for fixing engines and offering discounts to those struggling. But I couldn’t bear the thought of a spectacle. So, it was just me. I signed the papers, held the urn, said goodbye, but it didn’t feel like goodbye, instead it felt more like a pause in a scream.Outside, I saw a motorcycle.Parked at the edge of the lot, chrome gleaming even under the dull sky. It looked like my father’s bike, the one he used to polish every Sunday. I walked toward it without thinking, heart racing. But it wasn’t his, wrong handlebars, different rust pattern. Yet, it tore something open in me.I turned away before anyone could see my

Chapter 4

I was dragging the bike up the gravel path when I heard a screen door scrape open.“You look like you’re one busted spark plug away from throwing that thing in a ditch,” a woman called out.I turned to see her leaning against the doorframe, cigarette in one hand, steaming mug in the other. Gray hair in a messy bun, a T-shirt that said Hell Ain’t Hot Enough, and a face that could cut through drywall.“Marge,” she said, introducing herself. “I keep the books and remind the boys to wash their hands before eating.”“Joan,” I said. “Just passing through.”“Uh-huh.” She took a drag and blew smoke. “That what you call showing up twice today with a busted bike and a look like someone just set your life on fire?”I stared at her. She sipped her coffee and added, “Don’t worry, honey. I’ve seen worse.”She nodded toward the tree line behind the lot. “There’s a rental out back. Cabin. Small bed, leaky faucet, smells like cedar and regret. Last guy skipped town owing rent and a screwdriver set. Yo

Chapter 5

The morning light streamed through the cracked window, casting dusty beams on the walls of the cabin. I woke up with the uncomfortable feeling of something being off, the kind you can’t quite place but know your body is trying to tell you. I tried to shake off the grogginess, but a dull ache in my lower abdomen made it impossible to ignore.I sat up, wincing slightly, and realized with a sinking feeling that my period had arrived without any warning. No supplies. Not a single tampon, pad, or anything that could handle this emergency.I pulled on a pair of jeans and tugged a hoodie over my head. I needed a solution, fast. The garage. Marge. She would know where the hell I could find something to deal with this.I walked across the gravel lot behind the garage, the cold morning air nipping at my face. The metal tools in the shop had a comforting hum to them, a reminder that this place although broken and chaotic was somehow functional.I pushed through the door of the shop, the familiar

Chapter 6

My first thought was Rafe. There, sitting neatly inside the box, were several packs of tampons and pads of different brands, different sizes, a variety of options that seemed almost too thoughtful. And tucked alongside them were a few blister packs of painkillers, the kind I would normally get from a pharmacy run. It was exactly what I needed, and I hadn’t even had the chance to ask for it. Rafe must’ve done this. I couldn’t think of anyone else who would have bothered. He had been kind enough to offer me a ride into town, even if I’d embarrassed myself by asking. And now, somehow, he had made sure I had what I needed without me asking. I stared at the box for a moment longer before placing it down on the small table. It was still early afternoon, but I decided to take a shower before I headed to the garage to thank him. It wasn’t just about the supplies, it was about feeling like someone had seen me, had understood what I needed when I couldn’t even admit it to myself. It felt goo

chapter 7

I woke up on my third full day at Cliff's End with grease still under my fingernails from the day before, and for the first time in weeks, I didn't immediately wish I were somewhere else. That was either progress or a sign I had finally lost the plot completely. I wasn't sure which. The cabin smelled like cedar and the faint ghost of whoever had lived here last old coffee, wood polish, something vaguely mechanical. I'd started leaving the window cracked at night, not because it was warm enough for it, but because the sounds of the garage had become a kind of white noise I needed. The low murmur of engines idling. Wrenches against metal. Occasionally Rafe's voice drifting over with a laugh that sounded like a man who had made peace with something. I dressed quickly and made my way across the gravel path. The garage was already in full swing by the time I arrived, even though it wasn't yet eight. Rafe was beneath a truck, visible only by his boots. Mouse sat cross-legged on a tool ch

chapter 8

Ghost didn't talk. I don't mean he was quiet, or reserved, or the kind of man who measured his words carefully. I mean he operated at a frequency the rest of us didn't fully receive. He moved through the garage like weather present, undeniable, leaving everything slightly altered in his wake, but never pausing to explain himself. In the first few days, I had tried to read him the way I read new clients: cataloguing habits, testing conversational angles, looking for the particular door that would make a person open up. It was an instinct I'd developed in my marketing days, where everyone had a narrative they wanted managed and your job was to find it before they told you. Ghost had no visible door. So I stopped looking for one. On the fourth day, I brought lunch to the garage sandwiches from the diner down the road, ordered too many out of some reflexive politeness that still hadn't left me. Everyone else had either gone for a supply run or was in the back. It was just Ghost and me

Chapter 9

The letter arrived on a Tuesday. Marge brought it across from the garage office where it had been forwarded from my old business address. She set it on the cabin table without comment, but her expression as she left told me she had seen the return address and made some kind of decision about whether to warn me or let me find it myself. She chose the latter, which I respected even though, in the moment, I could have used five seconds of preparation. It was from Renfrew & Associates, a law firm whose letterhead I recognized immediately. They handled political and corporate matters. They were not the kind of firm you wanted to receive correspondence from unless it was an invitation to a gala. This was not an invitation to a gala. I read it twice, standing up, because sitting down felt like something I couldn't afford. The letter informed me that my name had been included in a formal financial misconduct investigation initiated in connection with the campaign activities of Darren Blac

Chapter 10

Insomnia had become a kind of habit. Not the anxious, spiraling kind where you chase the same thoughts around and around the inside of your skull that had eased somewhat since arriving at Cliff's End. This was a different variety: a simple, stubborn wakefulness. My body didn't know what rest was for anymore. It was past midnight when I gave up on lying down and pulled on a flannel shirt over my sleep clothes. The cabin was cold in the specific way that small buildings get cold when the temperature drops outside not gradually, but all at once, like the warmth had simply decided to leave. I told myself I was going to the garage to find a thicker blanket. There was a shelf of them near the back that Marge had pointed out when I moved in. That was the story. I kept it simple. The garage was dark from the outside or appeared to be. But as I crossed the gravel lot, I could see a light through the side window. Not overhead fluorescents. A work lamp, positioned low, casting a warm cone of y

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