Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75862 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Right now, for me, there is no escape.
“Yeah,” I say softly into the darkness, to a stranger I don’t know. “Thanks.”
“You sound like you’re carryin’ the weight of the world on your shoulders.”
I bite my bottom lip, tuck my hair behind my ear, and answer, “Some days I feel like I am. What’s your name?”
“Maverick.”
His name brings a small smile to my lips. It’s a name I’ve never heard belong to a person in real life, but I’ll also never forget it. “Can I ask you something, Maverick?”
He chuckles, low and deep. “Anythin’, darlin’.”
“Do you know what it feels like to be free?”
He goes silent for a moment, then he answers in a low tone, “I’m free every day. There isn’t a single moment of my life where freedom isn’t touching me.”
My chest aches for that kind of feeling, for that kind of freedom.
“How does it feel?” I ask.
He must think on that, because it takes him a few minutes to answer. “It feels like learnin’ to breathe for the first time, like there is no pressure on your chest, or in your heart. It feels like the binds that hold you down have snapped, and you’re able to just do whatever you want, whenever you want. It feels like flyin’.”
I swallow the thick lump in my throat. “I wish I knew what that felt like. I’d do anything.”
“Don’t give up hope, maybe one day you’ll find the freedom you desire. Maybe you’re just not lookin’ in the right places.”
“I don’t know where to look,” I admit. “I don’t even know what I’m looking for.”
“Look beyond what you see. Stop starin’ at what’s right in front of you and gaze past it. You might just find what you’re so desperately seeking.”
I fall silent, and then, beyond the water falling behind me and the soft sounds of the breeze trickling through the trees, I hear the sounds of leaves crunching as he walks away.
For the first time in a long time, I smile.
I smile for the stranger who sparked some hope inside me.
-1-
SCARLETT
I bring my knees up to my chest and stare out the back of my tour bus as we make our way to Los Angeles for a show tonight. The sun is setting on the horizon bringing in beautiful yellow and orange colors that light up the scenery as if it’s on fire, as if it’s burning. I start humming a tune, nothing old, but something new. As my eyes scan over the freedom beyond the windows of my bus, I feel a warmth travel over me. I wonder what it would be like to just disappear into those mountains, beyond that sunset, to a world where nothing makes any sense, but that’s exactly how you’d want it to be.
“Beyond the sunset, she sees freedom burning,” I hum, feeling something gathering in my mind, something new, something real and deep.
It’s been a long time since I’ve sung from the heart.
Mostly, I sing what they want me to sing.
A motorcycle appears in my line of sight, snapping me from the lyrics building in my head. I know whoever is on it most likely can’t see me because of the tinted glass on my bus, but I can see him as he nears. I bring my face up to the glass and peer out. He’s wearing an open-faced helmet, and he has the most breathtaking face I’ve ever seen. I can’t see his eyes through the dark sunglasses, but there is something about his features and how they’re put together that tells me he’d take my very breath away if he were to take them off.
Chiseled jaw covered in dark stubble, full lips, a slightly crooked nose, dark hair pushed down over his forehead and curling out from the helmet, skin soft and olive. He’s wearing a dark leather jacket and, as he gets closer, I see it has a number of different things written on it, mostly in the form of patches. The first thing my eyes train in on is the patch that reads ‘Iron Fury MC’. On the other side, there are a few other random patches—I can’t read them from here.
He’s a biker.
The thrill that has me bringing my face closer to the glass.
I’ve never seen a biker up close. They’re everywhere, of course, and everyone knows about them, but I’ve never been right near one. I wonder how it feels to just ride that bike, the wind in your face, the road taking you wherever you want to go. My heart longs for that feeling.
I zone in on his hands curling around the handlebars of the dark-blue motorcycle he’s riding. He’s got thick rings on his fingers—skulls, I think. He’s a big man, and I know beneath that jacket and those blue jeans that fit him so well he’d be muscled, probably tattooed. Unlike anything I’ve ever experienced in my time on the road. He’s alone, sitting relaxed on his bike, seemingly without a care in the world.