TWATKNOT

Pulling up to Cora’s house, I spy Priest off to the side, lying back in a lawn chair with a beer in his hand. The fucker looks like some bad biker lawn gnome that Cora’s parents had installed in their yard out of pity, because he was the last one left at the garden center.

I shake my head and chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Cora asks from behind me.

“Nothing.”

I back my bike into the driveway and dismount. Helping Cora off, I stalk toward a smiling Priest, waving at us with the amber bottle in his hand.

“I thought you were supposed to be watching the house.”

He peers up at me over the top of his sunglasses. “I am.”

“I thought the priest only drank the sacrificial wine?”

“Dude, Cora’s dad just keeps giving them to me. It would be rude of me to say no.”

I shake my head. “You really are the worst priest in the history of the church.”

“Damn right I am.” He takes a healthy swallow. “But this priest has a steady supply of beer when I’m on duty at this place, ‘cause Cora’s old man is cool as hell.”

He’s not wrong there.

I look over my shoulder for Cora, who’s fussing with her hair a few feet away, and ask Priest in a low voice, “Any sign of him?”

“Not a fucking peep. This is a pretty quiet street. There’s a nosey old lady across the way that keeps giving me the evil eye from behind the curtains in her front room. I think she likes me.”

“I bet she does.”

Cora’s parents weren’t happy to find Priest stationed outside their house in the middle of the night. A frantic phone call and an explanation later, Jim had finally accepted the help I offered, but I knew he’d have some choice words for me sooner rather than later. And sooner just happened to be today, after they insisted we come here for dinner tonight to talk. Or, as Cora had put it, to be interrogated.

Cora comes up from behind me. “You ready for this?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.”

We leave Priest to his lawn chair and head inside. Harrison comes barreling down the hallway, slamming headlong into Cora’s legs. She stumbles a bit before finding her balance.

“Momma, I missed you so much,” he murmurs against her thighs. She leans down, bringing her little boy into a hug. She kisses the top of his dark hair as he rattles off words so fast, I barely catch half of what he’s saying.

“I missed you too, baby. Were you good for Nana and Papaw?”

He scrunches up his face. “They wouldn’t let me play outside. Nana said I had to stay in the house.”

She gives him a pouty face. “I’m sorry, buddy.”

He looks up then and peers at me from over her shoulder. “You’re the biker man that helped my momma.”

“I am.”

“His name is Jonas,” Cora tells him, and I have to bite back a smile when Harrison rolls his eyes.

“I know, Mom. He already told me that the first time.”

Cora seems taken aback, but Harrison pays her no mind. “Do you have a motorcycle?”

“Absolutely. It’s just outside.”

Eyes wide, he looks out the front window to get a glimpse of it. “Momma, he has a motorcycle! Did you know that?”

“I did.”

He turns his attention to me. “Can I see it, pleeeease?”

“Only if it’s okay with your momma.”

“Can I see it, Momma? Please?”

His face is lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, and I know that I’m a goner already. The kid has mastered the art of being cute.

At Cora’s nod, Harrison squeals, kicking his legs until Cora puts him down. He reaches for my hand, his tiny one fitting into mine with room to spare, then he’s tugging me toward the door.

“Let’s go!”

I laugh, allowing this little boy to think he’s dragging me outside under his own power. Pushing open the screen door, he gasps.

“Momma! It’s the bird bike! Is that yours?”

“Yes, it is.”

Letting him take the lead, I almost laugh out loud when I see his mouth hanging open and his eyes nearly bugging out of his head.

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing to the pipe running along the bottom.

“That’s the exhaust pipe.”

“And that?”

“The gas tank.”

“My momma has a bird on her arm just like that,” he tells me. “And that?” He points toward the back of the bike.

I’m staring at Cora when I tell him, “The fender.”

I had noticed her tattoos, and though I’ve had her naked, I haven’t yet had the pleasure of exploring her body, finding every freckle and tracing every tattoo on it. Does she really have a phoenix on her arm? Is her reason the same as mine?

Harrison is testing the word I’ve said, giggling when he says it. “Fen-der. That’s a funny word.”

“It sure is.”

He peers over his shoulder at his mom, and then back at me. “Can you take me for a ride?”

“Harrison, honey,” Cora interjects. “You’re too little to go for a ride.”

“But Momma, I’m not too little. Please, Mr. Jonas.”

“Harrison, I…” Sighing, I go down on one knee, putting us at eye level. “It’s up to your mom.”

Cora crouches down next to him, and he presses his little body against her knees. He takes her face into his little hands and pleads, “Please, Momma. I won’t ask for anything else ever again. I just want to take a ride with Mr. Jonas.”

I see the worry in her eyes. Worry I now know the cause of. As much as she wants to keep him away from bikers and motorcycles, his keen interest in both is apparent to even me.

“Can he even ride safely with you?” she asks.

“He can,” I say slowly. “I don’t have a helmet that’ll fit him, but I can take it slow.”

She considers this.

“It’s entirely up to you. I don’t mind.”

“Pleeease, Momma,” he begs.

After a moment, she relents. “Fine. But only around the block, and no speeding.” The second part is aimed at me.

Harrison squeals, dancing around the driveway like a little elf high on too many cookies, singing, “I’m going on a ride! I’m going on a ride!”

Priest chortles from his lawn chair, and I can’t hide my own smile. I’m not normally a kid guy, but this kid is the shit.

Throwing my leg over the seat of my motorcycle, Cora lifts Harrison into her arms and hands the wiggling child over to me. He’s a tiny little thing, and I easily settle him in front of me, his body nestled securely between my arms. I give him a few quick directions on how to use his legs to squeeze around the gas tank to keep his balance. He laughs when he reaches his little arms out toward the handlebars, but falls short.

I flick the ignition, and his happy laughs are nearly louder than the engine beneath us.

“When we move, I want you to hold on tight with your legs and lean back against me.”

“Okay, Mr. Jonas.” He grips the sides of my jeans. “Let’s go!”

“Please be careful,” Cora urges, looking ready to pass out.

“He’s safe with me,” I promise.

Balancing myself, I pop the kickstand, taking all the weight of the motorcycle on myself. We move forward carefully until I reach the end of the driveway.

“Remember what I told you,” I say, my voice raised over the rumble of the engine. Harrison just smiles and nods in reply. “Okay, little man. Here we go.”

I take one last glance over at Cora, standing there with her arms wrapped around her body in the driveway. She mouths the words, “be careful,” and I tip my chin.

I push forward, twisting the throttle and giving the engine a little gas. We glide onto the street at a glacial pace, allowing Harrison to adjust to the feel. It’s not until we get out of Cora’s sight that I open it up a little more. Harrison cheers, and I can’t contain my own laughter at his genuine happiness. He squirms, but I wrap my left hand around him, securing his frame to my front. It’s not easy to drive like this, but I value my life, and Cora would kill me if I let anything happen to this guy.

We make it around one block, and then another. And then I decide to take us around a few more times before returning to Cora’s parents’ house. As I back us in and kill the engine, Harrison is all laughs and smiles.

“What did you think?” I ask him.

“I want to go again!”

“I bet you do, buddy.”

“Mr. Jonas, do you like my momma?” Before I can reply, he adds, “Because I think she likes you a whole lot.”

Cora approaches and plucks him off the bike, listening to him jabber away, giving me a moment to allow the heaviness of his question to settle in.

I do like her, little man. I like her a whole fucking lot.