Chapter 1

Abby Steel hadn’t seen the inside of her own apartment in over three years. There

hadn't been any need to come home really, so she just–didn’t. Life on the road kept her

busy, and building a business had taken way more time and energy than she

anticipated.

She looked around at the almost compulsively clean apartment and was thankful for about the thousandth time that her sister had agreed to come and wipe the dust off the surfaces once a month or so. It wasn't as if she left it dirty, but time and dust had a way of accumulating in equal and inevitable measure. Lauren had also been nice enough to retrieve her mail from the post office when it no longer fit in her box, getting rid of all the junk mail and opening anything that seemed important. There wasn't much, to be truthful. Abby had very few bills outside the business, and most of it was handled online these days. She could do almost everything from pretty much anywhere.

At this point she was just thankful to be in one place for a few weeks. Riding back from Alaska, Abby spent many miles dreaming about long showers and luxurious baths with unlimited hot water. The grime that had built itself up under her fingernails would need to be soaked and scrubbed, her hair untangled and brushed. Things that time on the road didn’t really allow for.

It would be good to see Lauren and her nieces in the flesh instead of over video chat, to share stories of her adventures and show off her many pictures, but seeing them would have to wait until she had the energy for endless questions from curious little girls. She picked up a stack of mail and dropped into a chair, where she immediately fell asleep.

When she woke up again, the sun had already dipped below the horizon, shrouding the apartment in a kind of eerie glow that reminded her of sunsets on the Spanish plains just outside Seville. When she closed her eyes the scene was still there in her mind, the colors bursting across the open sky, the sweltering summer heat billowing up from inside her leather jacket. Something about riding there had been nothing short of magical. Then again, it felt that way with a lot of places.

Beneath all the road dust and engine grease, each destination left its mark on her soul.

She left Calistoga three years ago with an insatiable need not just to see, but to fully experience all the world had to offer, and was returning a completely different version of herself. Culture shock becomes a non-issue when you’re constantly changing cultures. After a while, the life she left in America was no longer the measuring stick against which she compared all of her other experiences. Instead, it became just one of many other foreign concepts, lumped together with all the other possible ways of doing life on planet earth.

For Abby, the constant drifting from place to place created an unusual sort of routine that was comforting in its uncertainty. You get used to living a certain way, and after a while it doesn’t seem all that strange. Lauren thought she was absolutely crazy, never knowing where she was going to sleep or what dangers might be just around the corner, but one person’s danger is another person’s thrill. She and Lauren, they were wired differently, that’s all.

Being back in the apartment, surrounded by all the furniture and artwork she left behind was its own sort of culture shock. They were her things, of course, but all the things she thought she would miss had eventually faded into the background, replaced by people, places, smells and tastes of a life too vibrant and varied to be contained within the four walls of any structure.

The life she had built before was there on the walls and in pillows and the colors. They defined a person she wasn’t sure existed anymore. A part of her recognized it all, was even comforted by its deep familiarity, but an even bigger part wasn’t sure if it was possible to go back in time.

Maybe coming home wasn’t a matter of choosing one or the other, but rather, allowing the new to inform the old, and the old to make space for the new. If her life was a tree, like the sadhu in India told her, then she could not ever hope to become a different tree. The new experiences would instead have to be grafted into the rest of the trunk, eventually growing together into a completely unique expression of life.

Steel Journeys was a company she had founded all on her own, the seed money coming from her parents’ inheritance. Lauren used her half to build a house in the suburbs and was raising two beautiful daughters, but Abby chose to pay off all her debt, buy a condo, and set off on the adventure of a lifetime. She spent those last three years researching the best roads, the best views, and the best options for lodging in countless different countries, taking copious notes and pictures, giving out business cards and forming relationships with many of her future hosts. Cataloging it all had been a labor of love, born of excitement, and ultimately remodeling her thoughts as new memories were grafted into her tree of life. 

Each new place had its own charm–its own rugged truths waiting to be discovered. There were just too many to count, although she had done her best filling multiple paper journals with notes and sketches, as well as digital galleries that were cross-referenced to her notes.

It’s hard to say when the idea for the business hit her–probably somewhere between Bangkok and Ho Chi Minh City. Like a reformed smoker she suddenly, desperately wanted other women to experience the freedom she had seen, felt, heard, smelled, and tasted. That was the dream–to form a women's motorcycle touring company, and to take it global.

“What, the entirety of the United States isn't enough for you?" Lauren had asked.

The answer was simple. It wasn't enough. It would never be enough. Wanderlust was embedded deep in her DNA–so deep in fact, that she wasn't even sure where it ended and she started again.

Lauren was happy being a soccer mom in the suburbs, raising a family, and being a card-carrying member of the PTA. The only cards Abby carried were a visa and her concealed carry permit. She didn’t carry her gun internationally, of course, but traveling solo had taught her a thing or two about self-protection. Tucked into barely reachable corners of the globe, far away from the big cities and police patrols, the rules were often very different. She learned to be both smart and careful.

Three years was a long time to be away, but for Abby, home was a concept, not a place. To some people, home might be wherever you lay your helmet, but for Abby, home was wherever she laid her ass. Home was her saddle, which for the last three years had been a Harley, but before that it was a BMW, before that a Triumph and before that a custom cafe racer she’d rebuilt with Jorge’s help. Home was the wind in her face, and wide open spaces tucked under an expansive sky.

Home was the road.

So this trip–this apartment–it was just another hotel room. Another stop along the way. Except, of course, this room was tastefully decorated with a comfortable bed, a down comforter, and some of the best sheets money could buy. That bed was calling to her, and the rest would have to wait.

She woke up the next morning wishing she’d chosen the shower before bed. There was dirt on the sheets, and little balls of dirt surrounded her jeans that were balled up in the corner of the room.

No matter. Dirt was a part of life, and she’d lived in enough places to know it didn’t really hurt anything but a person’s sense of expectation, so she put it out of her mind and padded toward the bathroom.

The requisite two showers, complete with a double scrubbing of her hair, ears, fingernails and feet took a while, but when she was satisfied, she filled the bathtub with some epsom salts scented with lavender and let the sun stream through the glass block window. As she soaked, she listened to pan flutes and meditation music that reminded her of parts of India she visited last year. The Indian people were incredibly kind and deeply spiritual. She only spent a couple of weeks there, barely scratching the surface of just one region, but it was definitely on her must-return list.

She emerged from the bath and pulled a clean, long white t-shirt and some yoga pants out of the closet. “Well, hey there guys! I haven’t seen you in forever!”

It felt amazing not to be wearing jeans or leathers for once, and the thought of not sweating into a helmet for the next couple hours was a welcome change. She blew her long hair out a little, but let the ends curl up with some leave-in conditioner. She was desperately in need of a trim, but split-ends would have to wait. When she opened the back door to let some fresh air in, even the birds sounded happy. The way the morning was going, nothing could harsh her mellow.

Except maybe her ex-boyfriend showing up at her door.

When the knock sounded she expected Lauren maybe, thinking the girls were too excited to wait for her visit. Instead, Trevor was standing there, looking just as fine as the day she told him to hit the road.

“What the hell are you doing here?” She looked past him and saw that he’d come on the Gold Wing. It was a newer version, but the same one they’d taken up into Canada and down through Glacier National Park.

That was before she rode her own. Back when he was a sweet guy who taught her how to ride and fix her own bike. Back before got way too drunk and fucked her best friend in a hayfield.

He didn’t remember doing it, but back then blackouts were his specialty. She never did know if they were the sign of a real problem or a convenient excuse for bad behavior.

They were just kids then–barely twenty-one and not a clue about real life. It shouldn’t have mattered anymore, but it did. It had been fifteen years and she hadn’t seen or heard anything from him, but there he was, in his signature faded jeans and a white t-shirt, hair slicked back just enough to keep those loose, defiant curls out of his eyes.

He’d always been lean, but a little on the squishy side, what with all the beer and whiskey he consumed. She wondered if he still drank at all, given the way his muscles rippled through that t-shirt. He was tan too.

“Where’ve you been?” She started sarcastically. “The Caribbean?”

He smiled at her edge. “Close. Florida, actually.” She tried not to imagine him in a pair of swim trunks lying on a beach, but it was difficult to occupy herself while waiting for him to say something. Anything. An explanation, perhaps, of what the hell he was doing on her porch?

“That yours?” He inclined his head back toward the street, indicating her Harley which was now snuggled right up next to his Gold Wing.

“That’s right.”

“She’s awful dirty,” he smiled. “Where you been ridin?”

“South America, Croatia, Greenland. But most recently Alaska...”

“Wait–seriously?”

“Yes. Seriously. I just got back last night. How did you even know I was here?” She linked her arms together across her chest and waited, again, for him to answer.

He looked confused. As if he didn’t understand the question.

“Trev!”

He looked up at her face, trying, it seemed, to find his tongue.

“What are you doing here?”

He seemed almost embarrassed, which was totally unlike him. “Can I come in for minute?”

Abby had been in more dangerous situations than this, she was sure of it, but at the moment she couldn’t remember any. Trevor was her first love. Her first everything. He was goddamned quicksand is what he was.

Suddenly going back out on the road felt like a pretty good option, but against her better judgment she swung the door wide and motioned for him to come in. As he walked by she caught his scent and it all came flooding back. Late nights hanging out behind the pizza place where he worked, and making love in random fields on a blanket they pulled out of one of his saddlebags. They used to lie on their backs looking up at the stars, talking about all the things they wanted to do together. All places they wanted to go.They had plans. So many plans.

“Wow. This is a really nice place.”

“Thanks. I’d forgotten how much I liked it myself. I haven’t been here in about three years.”

“What? What do you mean you haven’t been here in three years?”

“I told you, I’ve been traveling.”

“For three years? Straight?” One eyebrow tipped up sarcastically but his face registered the shock. Whoever had told him where she lived obviously hadn’t shared much else. “You mean you didn’t come home at all?”

“What is home? Is it a place where your shit lives? A place that you pay rent? No. Home is where I say it is. And today it’s here, but tomorrow it might not be.”

He looked down and ran his fingers through his hair. “Same old Abby. You never could sit still.”

The sitting still part might be true, but she wasn’t the same old Abby. She had changed so much over the past fifteen years. She couldn’t even begin to tell him how much, but that was beside the point entirely.

She walked toward the kitchen and he followed her. “Are you going to tell me what you’re doing here or am I supposed to guess?”

Trev stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked at his shoes for a long time before he spoke. “I have a daughter, Abby.”

“Congratulations. And this concerns me...how?”

“With Claire.”

Ok, that one stung. Her first response kind of stuck in her throat. Maybe it was best to leave it there. “I assume you mean Claire, my former best friend, who you slept with before conveniently blacking out the entire experience? Yes, I remember her.”

Abby wasn’t about to give an ounce of emotion to that situation. Her tears had been spent on him a long time ago. “How is dear sweet Claire anyway?”

“She’s dead.” Trevor said the words as if he didn’t actually believe his own statement.

All the sarcasm fell away for a moment. Abby didn’t know what to say. “She’s what?”

“She died–about a month ago. Maybe more. I’m not sure. Time is all squished together at the moment. It’s not really making sense yet.”

“I’m sorry.” Abby tried to sound sincere, but this was Claire they were talking about, and truth be known she’d wished her dead a thousand times since that night. The venom stuck in her throat.

“Yeah. Me too. She was a good mother. She loved Kelsey. And me too, God knows why.”

Did he actually think the grieving widow bit was working? She imagined Trevor trying to be a single dad to a little girl in pigtails, teaching her the only skills he knew well–like taking apart a carburetor on an old Honda. Abby imagined her knowing words like throttle and kickstand and her heart softened a little. “So how old is Kelsey?”

“She’s fifteen.” He looked straight into her eyes with a truth that cut through all the

bullshit.

“She’s–”

“Yes.”

Abby took a couple of steps back from him instinctively. The world started to go black a little, and she put her hand on the table to keep from falling over.

“Abby? Are you ok?” He started to move toward her but she put her hand up to stop him.

“I’m fine.” She cleared her throat and stood a little straighter. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Abby–”

“What exactly do you want me to say Trevor? You didn’t have the balls to tell me this fifteen years ago, so why now? I’m going to ask you one more time. Why are you here?”

“I moved back home. With Kelsey. Claire’s parents are still here, my parents are still here, and hell, I don’t know anything about raising a teenage girl. Frankly it scares the living shit out of me.”

“Where have you been all the rest of this time?”

“In and out. It’s kind of a long story.”

“Yes well, I’m due at Lauren’s soon so I’m afraid–”

“I’ve been working on getting my act together.” He finished.

“For fifteen years? We’re in our thirties Trev. You kind of need to figure that part out.”

“You think I don’t know that?”

“So what’s the plan?”

“My dad’s giving me another chance at a job.”

“In an office?” Abby laughed out loud. “So you came to borrow a rope and a stool?”

“I asked for the job. I want to run the business some day.”

“But that’s not you.”

“I’m good at building things. And fixing things.”

Except maybe relationships. “You’d go crazy at a desk job.”

“What do you know about me Abby? We haven’t seen each other in fifteen years. I went back to school.”

“For your GED?”

“No, for my MBA.”

“Your–” This conversation had gone from terrible to ridiculous. It was Abby’s turn to run her fingers through her hair. Nothing was making sense. She couldn’t line the pieces up the right way. “Would you like a cup of coffee? I haven’t had any coffee yet and this conversation seems to require more brain power than I possess at the moment.”

“That’d be nice. Thanks.”

When he smiled it was just too much. He had always been a genuinely nice guy. She moved past him toward the kitchen and his chest pulled up visibly.

“Man you smell good. What is that?”

“Soap.” Abby laughed. “I forgot about that nose of yours. You were always so sensitive to smells. Never got over that huh?” She motioned for him to follow her into the kitchen as she rifled through the cupboard. “Have a seat. I hope instant is ok. I’m surprised there’s anything in here at all. We’re both kind of taking our chances here.”

“Anything is fine. Thanks.” He took a seat. “So let me ask you something?”

She pulled two cups of water out of the insta-hot dispenser and set them on the counter.

This ought to be good. “Go ahead.”

“Why would you pay rent on a place you knew you weren’t going to be at for three years straight?”

“Well, Mr. MBA, I don’t pay rent. I bought it. Outright. After my parents died.” 

His eyes got wide. “Your parents died? Both of them? When?!”

Abby didn’t say anything at first. She just stirred the packets into the water and handed him his coffee.

When he took the cup from from her their hands touched and he looked up, then nodded with an understanding that defied logic. “Oh! Right! I get it now.”

“Excuse me?”

“Your parents. Three years ago, right? Hell, I would’ve hit the road too.”

“I see you also took classes in clairvoyance. Was that a minor?” The fact that he could dissect her choices so accurately after all this time was irritating.

He just shook his head and sipped his coffee. “Same old Abby.”

“Stop saying that, would you? I am not the same old Abby. I’ve been everywhere. Done everything.”

“And yet?” He took another sip of coffee. “Here we are, both thinking we know all there is to know about the other person.”

She laughed at the accuracy of his statement and raised her cup. “Guilty.”

He returned her salute. “Truce?”

She took a long drink of too hot coffee, conveniently ignoring his terms, then stared into her cup, contemplating her next words. “Why didn’t you tell me? About the baby?”

He swallowed hard. “I couldn’t. I don’t know why.”

“Did you marry her?”

He shook his head. “We tried to stay together at first, for Kelsey’s sake, but it just never worked. It was never right. Not that first night. Not ever.”

“Well you’re right about that first night.” She leaned back in her chair.

He ignored the jab and shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I tried to stay in Kelsey’s life, but I drifted for a long time, and eventually went back to school. Five years ago Claire was diagnosed with cancer. She beat it the first time. And the second. It just kept coming back.”

Cry me a river. Not that Abby was cold-hearted, nor did she wish pain or suffering on

anyone, even the likes of Claire. A kid orphaned at fifteen was no laughing matter, but still–hell hath no fury and all...

“You look good Abby. The road’s been good to you.”

She rolled her eyes, thankful for both the lavender and the blow dryer. “You should have smelled me yesterday. I hadn’t had a bath in over a month. Or a real shower, unless you count water crossings through frigid streams in the Alaskan wilderness.”

“How the fuck did you ride a Harley through Alaska?” He grinned.

“I didn’t. I rode a GS for that part. Picked the Harley back up in Anchorage.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why Alaska?”

“Denali.”

“Oh man.” He shook his head. “I’ve heard amazing things about Denali.”

“All true. Even saw a grizzly.”

“No shit?” 

When he grinned she saw the smile of the kid she fell in love with and the lump turned solid in her throat. “No shit.” She swirled the coffee in her cup. “Instant sure has come a long way since we were kids. Remember that swill we used to drink?”

“In the orange packets! To stay awake all night–yes!” He laughed. “Man that was some nasty-ass shit.”

“I’ve had worse.” Abby leaned back against her chair. She didn’t have time for small talk, and she didn’t feel like traipsing down memory lane either. “So, what are you going to do?”

“Make a life? Try to raise Kelsey as best I can. She’s a good kid Abby, you’d like her.”

“Have you taught her how to ride yet?”

He shook his head, downing the last of his coffee. “Her mother forbid it.” Abby digested that thought, and the silence hung between them for a while. “You could have just called. Why did you come?”

“I wanted to see you.”

“Why?” She looked straight into his eyes and he stared back, unfolding the packed-up memories and laying them out in the space between them.

“You know why.”

She got up and put her cup in the sink. “I don’t even have words to tell you how many things are wrong with that statement. That ship sailed a long, long time ago.”

“It’s not like that. I just need a friend.”

“Call Jim Beam.”

“He and I aren’t on speaking terms anymore.”

She held up one hand and and started counting fingers. “Clean. Sober. Father to a motherless child. MBA.” She shook her head, wiggling her thumb. “The prodigal returns.”

He stood up and came closer, taking her by the hands and closing her fingers into a fist. “I’m sorry I hurt you Abby. I know it took me a long time to tell you that. Too long. I tried to do the right thing. I’m still trying.”

He was dangerously close to her face, and she couldn’t think straight. As his eyes traced her lips, she remembered his tongue and the way his kisses felt along her neck, but stood her ground. It wasn’t like her to hold a grudge, but apparently she didn’t know herself as well as she thought.

Trevor took a step back, pulled a card out of his pocket and laid it on the table. “Thanks for letting me in. I’m sorry I didn’t call first, but I didn’t have your number.” He kissed her on the cheek and his lips were soft and they lingered for about a second too long. “I’ll see you around. Unless you’re leaving on safari tomorrow maybe?”

“Been there. Done that.”

He shook his head in genuine admiration and walked over to the door. “Where haven’t you been, Abby Steel?”

Abby just smiled. “See ya Trev.”

He barely made it off the porch before she stopped him. “Wait. How did you know where I lived?”

He started walking away from her backwards, pulling his keys out of his pocket. “Jake.”

That made so much more sense. Fucking Jake was always shooting his mouth off. “I should have known.”

He swung one leg over the Gold Wing and then stopped. “See ya around?”

“Possibly.”

Abby closed the door and pushed her back against it, just to make sure, then took a slow deep breath, trying to replace the oxygen that always seemed to get sucked out of her atmosphere when Trevor was around.

Later, at Lauren’s kitchen table, after the pictures were shared and the stories were told, she relayed the story about Trevor’s visit.

“You’re kidding me, right?” The look on Lauren’s face was priceless.

“I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.”

“So? What are you going to do?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“I don’t know it’s just–I mean, it’s Trevor.”

She shoved Lauren hard in the arm. “It’s ancient history, that’s what it is.”

“Apparently not.” Lauren grabbed Abby’s plate and started cleaning the table.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Lauren kept her mouth shut and stood there shaking her head and rubbing her arm. Just then Jake walked in.

“What’s wrong with your arm, babe?” He looked over at the table. “Oh hey Abby!Welcome back! You know I just saw Trev a couple days ago? Weird that you both came back at the same time, huh?”

“Even weirder that he just happened to know where I live.” Abby glared at him.They all grew up together. She’d known Jake almost as long as she’d known her baby sister. The fact that he married her wasn’t exactly a surprise, it was more of a given.

“What?!” Jake held up both hands. “He said he had something important to talk to you about. It’s not like I gave him your phone number! Hell, I figured if he could catch you at home he’d be doing better than ninety-nine percent of the rest of the planet, you know what I mean?” He grabbed an apple and took a great big bite out of it. "I figured I was doing you a favor.”

“Yeah well next time, don’t do me any favors, alright?”

“Fine! Jesus. Welcome home, Miss America.”

“Alright you two–settle down.” Lauren walked over and kissed Jake on the cheek. “How was your day?”

Jake didn’t respond. He just stood there, across the room and yet toe-to-toe with Abby. The silence went on for what turned out to be an uncomfortable amount of time.

Abby broke first. “I’m sorry Jake. It’s not your fault it’s just–he was the last person I

expected to see at my door. I hadn’t even been home for twelve hours.

“Yeah, well, he kinda caught me off guard too.”

Abby nodded.

“So what was so important that he had to rush over there?” Jake asked.

Abby’s eyes narrowed playfully. “Wouldn’t you rather see pictures of an albino rhino?”

“Are you kidding?” He scoffed. “You and Trevor in the same room is way better than an albino rhino.”

There was truth on both sides of that statement. It was a curious anomaly, to be sure. It was also one of those rare things that would probably only be glimpsed once in a lifetime.

Chapter 2

Abby was waiting for the salmon to thaw as she finished up the last of her emails to the group going to Patagonia. The trip was coming up in two weeks, and it had been non-stop planning since she got back. After Argentina and Chile she was doing back-to-back trips in some other parts of South America before returning to the states, so the planning was in different stages for different groups.

The reviews on her website were always five stars, but interestingly enough, the things women wrote about hardly ever had to do with the locations she picked and planned for so meticulously. They talked about camaraderie, the depth of relationships they formed with one another, and the cards with the questions Abby gave them each day that made their journey unique.

These trips always ended up being about so much more than riding. She did her best to get to know the women she was riding with, and to make it meaningful for them as individuals–not because it was good for business, which it obviously was, but because she genuinely cared.

Many of them wrote to her afterward to tell her how their lives had changed dramatically, and their trip with Steel Journeys seemed to be the catalyst for those changes. They wrote about the questions they went home with, and how the answers were still forming themselves in the tracks their adventures left behind. 

Word of mouth spread, and her tours were always full. It was humbling, to be sure.So much time and effort had gone into building something she could be proud of, and her life was exactly where she wanted it to be, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Trevor’s visit. She hadn’t heard from him again in the two weeks she’d been back, but his card, instead of being immediately pitched when he walked out the door, had rather inconveniently found its way to the side of the fridge. Good thing Lauren hadn’t been over or she’d never hear the end of it.

That’s the thing about loose ends–they just wave around in the wind, waiting for someone to tie them back together or stuff them under the rug. Or in this case, under the bed.

God, he was good in bed. It had been at least a year since she had a decent lover, and before that it was a string of bad lays in multiple countries. Culture and language aside, sex seemed to be a fairly level playing field. There were some cultural differences surrounding approach of course, but execution was all just personal style, and that was a human thing. It had nothing whatsoever to do with geography. 

Maybe she spent too much time with the wrong sorts of men. Or not enough time in any one place to get past the meaningless sex.

Trevor was an incredible lover, from what she remembered. Unfortunately, he had become the measuring stick. She hated him for that, because apparently there weren’t very many men like him. Patient and kind, but fiery and passionate in constant waves that ebbed and flowed like the ocean. Their love-making had been epic, and stretched sometimes for hours into the night. 

Memories tortured her until her pants were wet and she pushed back from the table. “This is ridiculous Abby. Get ahold of yourself!”

She left the fish on the counter and grabbed her keys and helmet, firing up the Harley and taking every twisting back road until her head felt clear and her stomach required a meal. She ended up at Pop’s–a quintessential small-town diner at the far end of town. It had been there for as long as she could remember. In fact, she learned to do her first figure eights in his parking lot.

She parked the bike and draped her helmet over one of the handlebars. Pop’s place was a frequent stop for bikers. Besides, Pop was a reformed one-percenter, and no one dared mess with any of the bikes parked out front.

Almost as soon as she walked through the door she heard Pop’s gruff old voice saying “Well what the fuck have we got here? A ghost?!”

Abby smiled and sat down at one of the stools at the counter. “Hey Pop.”

“Don’t you ‘hey Pop’ me! Get your pretty little ass over here and give an old man a hug!”

Pop obviously knew nothing about being politically correct. Or sexual harassment. He was just a crass old biker with a heart of gold who loved fiercely and wasn’t afraid to show it. She hugged him genuinely and he held on tight, grabbing onto her shoulder muscles as he backed away as if to make sure she had all her parts put together correctly. “Where the hell have you been?”

She started to open her mouth but he cut her off and let go of her shoulders rather abruptly.

“Or should I say, where haven’t you been?” He winked knowingly and walked back behind the counter.

“Have you been stalking me?!” Abby tried to feign surprise, but Pop just grinned back at her. Pop followed her travels on her website as well as on social media, which, given his age and his stance on most things technology, was a bit of a disconnect. Still, it was his seed money that gave her business its initial start-up, even though she paid it back right after the inheritance came through. He was the one that pushed her out of the nest, and had been her biggest fan and encourager ever since.

“Best investment this old man ever made.” He grabbed a cup and poured her some coffee she hadn’t asked for.

Just then the door opened and Trevor walked in. He did a double take when he saw Abby.

“Jesus Christ, you too?” Pop blurted out. “What the hell is this, old home week?” He looked between the two of them staring one another down and shook his head. “Well shit–I’m gonna go grill up a couple of burgers and a basket of fries.”

“Abby!” Trevor looked almost embarrassed. He was dressed in a pair of nice looking khakis and a button-down, and he had a copy of the Wall Street Journal under his arm.

She made no attempt to hide her surprise. “The Journal? Really?!”

He grinned at her “I thought we weren’t going to judge one another anymore.”

Abby flushed a little. He was right. He just looked so different. It was hard to imagine him doing anything but wrenching on a bike and eating street tacos.

“What are you doing here?” He looked outside and saw the Harley.

She followed his gaze but didn’t see the Gold Wing anywhere. “I was just out clearing the cob webs, you know?” She turned back toward the counter and picked up her coffee, suddenly thankful that Pop had poured it for her. “Where’s your trusty steed?” she wondered without turning around. 

“At home. I brought my dad’s truck because I have to pick Kelsey up after school.” He set the paper on the counter next to her. “Do you mind if I sit down?”

“So polite.” She mused, still staring straight ahead. When he moved onto the stool next to her, they were dangerously close again, and the clean smell of an understated cologne assaulted her senses. It didn’t seem to matter that fifteen years had gone by. The switch may have been flipped off, but the electricity remained, pulsing through an invisible wire strung between them.

“Would you stop already? Can’t we at least be friends?”

At least? “Friends. Hmmm. I’ll have to think about that.” She still refused to look at him. His hair was neatly tamed and the fresh shave was really throwing her. This was definitely not the Trevor she remembered.

“Actually, I have a favor to ask.” 

He interrupted her thoughts just in time. This ought to be good. “But I haven’t give you an answer on the friendship thing. Are you even allowed to ask me a favor if we’re not friends?”

He ignored her sarcasm and set his newspaper down. “This is more of a business proposition.”

Abby pushed the coffee back and set her elbows on the counter. “Now this I’ve gotta hear.” When she turned her head to look at him he didn’t speak for a few seconds. He just stared at her, then looked past her out into the restaurant, then finally back at her face.

“What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue?”

He took a deep breath. “Kelsey wants a part time job.”

“Maybe Pop’s hiring.” She opened her mouth to call out toward the kitchen but Trevor put his hand on her arm. The warmth of his skin stopped her words and made her stiffen at the same time.

He pulled his hand back slowly. “I was wondering if she could work for you.”

“For me?”

“She’s a math nerd who’s a whiz at coding and graphic design.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Well, I’ve been to your website, and you could use some help with branding.”“You’ve...been to my website?”

“Relax–it’s not as creepy as it sounds.”

“What a relief.” Abby didn’t know whether to be flattered that he looked up her business or offended that he thought her website was a piece of shit.

“Listen, I just want to encourage her passions. Rather than have her get a job waitressing, I was hoping to find her some work in website development or design or something. I know she’s young, but I’m telling you she’s really good. And a job like that won’t necessarily take her away from her school work for hours at a time. She’s still fragile, and staying with my parents has given her a safe place to land. I’d like to keep her close to home for a while yet.”

Abby tried to keep listening but the words he was speaking kept turning in circles.

“You wouldn’t have to pay her much. I’d just like her to start getting some experience. And if you hate her designs you don’t have to use them.”

“Why not have her work for your dad? Surely his image needs an update.”

“It does. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point?”

“Abby. I told you–I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“So why can’t you leave me out of it?” Her frustration level was rising.

He didn’t say a word. He just let her come at him. Why couldn’t he understand the position he was putting her in? 

“Listen Trev, it’s not that I’m opposed to redoing the website, but I don’t think you understand what you’re asking.”

He grabbed onto her hand. She tried to pull away but he held tight. “I do. I get it. But we’re back here trying to make a fresh start, and I want her to be around strong women. Women who have been through hard times but carried on. Women who mentor other women.”

He had obviously done his homework and read the reviews. It was a low blow, and it made her want to throw the rest of her coffee in his face. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

“What you’ve built is amazing. I want her to see that she can aspire to something great.” 

Abby’s pulse was rising. She had no idea how to frame this request in her head, much less her heart. “Let’s recap, shall we? Less than two weeks ago you showed up at my door to tell me that all those years ago you had a love-child with my best friend–a decision that categorically ruined our plans for a life together.” There was no sense beating around the bush. She might as well speak the truth and lay it out on the table.“Now that her mother is dead, you want me to take her under my wing and mentor her?”

“It sounds a lot worse when you say it that way.”

“Which way? When I tell the truth?! Maybe if you’d told the truth fifteen years ago things would have been different, but what you’re asking for is too much.”

“It’s only too much if you still care about me, but you’ve made it pretty clear you don’t. Something along the lines of that shipped sailed a long time ago. This is a business proposition, Abby. From what I can tell, you spend so much time on the road you don’t have a lot of time for social media and website building. This is a win-win. It would give Kelsey some real world experience and something to put in a design portfolio, and it would give you a better chance at expanding your business.”

“I’m leaving for Patagonia in another couple weeks. After that I’ll be in Brazil and then Costa Rica. It’ll be nearly spring before I get back here.”

“God, I’m jealous.” He shook his head. “I sure hope you take a lot of pictures.”

“I do. Not that I have time to organize or categorize them.”

“See? Perhaps a virtual assistant is just what the doctor ordered.” He flipped his palm in the air as if it was already a done deal. “You could send back pictures and she could post them to social media for you. This is the digital age, Abby. As long as you have a laptop you can work from anywhere in the world. Just meet with her once. That’s all I’m asking. Just give the kid a shot.”

“Jesus Trev. You’re breaking my heart.” Abby didn’t even try to hide the sarcasm, she just looked straight ahead.”

“I just moved her to a brand new state and a brand new school. She needs something positive to focus on right now.”

Abby was fuming at his presumption. Just then Pop set a basket of burgers and fries in front of each of them.

“Thanks Pop.” Trev smiled at him, but Pop was watching Abby’s reaction.

“I think one of you needs to go sit in another part of the restaurant.”

“You know what?” Abby pushed up from the stool. “I need to go anyway. Trev can have my burger. He looks like he could use a few more pounds. It was good to see you Pop. I’ll come back another time.”

“Abby, wait!”

Trev started to go after her but Pop grabbed his shoulder. “Leave it.”

Trevor picked up a french fry and started munching it. He shook his head and huffed out a breath.

Pop laughed out loud. “Well, it’s good to know some things never change. You two always were like fire and ice.”

Trevor looked back over his shoulder as she fired up the Harley. She pulled out of the parking lot and peeled out into the street. It wasn’t hard to tell which one of them was the ice.

The road called her back up into the hills and it was dark before Abby got back to the condo. She’d spent the last three hours winding curves and trying to straighten out the thoughts in her head. When she parked the bike she shut down the whole conversation and headed inside, but when she fired up her email there was a new inquiry in her inbox. The subject line read: Ideas for your new website. It was from Kelsey. Trevor hadn’t wasted any time.

The fish was still on the counter so she prepped it quickly and tossed it in the oven with a few vegetables, then opened a bottle of wine. She sat in the kitchen at her laptop answering a few other emails and getting a little of the wine in her veins before clicking back to the one from Kelsey. She was pissed, but it was hard to blame the girl. Who knows what Trevor might have told her about their interaction.

When she opened the email there was a video link embedded in it. A young girl was sitting in front of her computer smiling back at her. A girl who looked surprisingly like Trevor and very little like Claire.

Abby wondered once again how Trev could have possibly known she would be at the diner. Indeed, he’d looked as surprised as she was when he walked in the door. She sighed audibly and pressed play. She might as well listen to what the girl had to say.

“Hi Abby. My name is Kelsey. My dad said you might need some help with your website and before you turn this video off just hear me out. I started learning coding and website development three years ago when I started middle school. I got put in some special classes for girls who were interested in web design. It was a pilot program funded by some high tech companies that wanted to encourage young girls to go after careers in technology. I also did a college level program last summer in graphic design and mixed media. And let’s face it, I’m fifteen and I think I’ve got the whole social media thing figured out.”

Kelsey giggled a little and when she smiled one of her eyes crinkled up just like Trev.

Abby swallowed and kept listening.

I want to show you a quick mock up of an idea I had.

Suddenly the screen switched off her face and cut to a compilation of some of the

pictures from Abby’s website as well as videos of women riding difficult trails in beautiful locations and superimposed it over a whole new design. Images flashed in and out as she set the fresh, dynamic website side by side with her current website design, which was basic and functional but fairly boring by comparison.

Kelsey’s voice could be heard over the images. “Obviously I would need time to personalize all of the pictures and talk with you about what you want. I also noticed you don’t have an email signup and you really need one of those but that’s super simple to set up. It’s a net to catch people who are interested but not ready to book a tour yet. We can set it up so that those people are automatically emailed when a new tour is announced. Also an Instagram feed would be good, and I see you’ve got a Facebook group set up which is great. 

By the way, I just want to say that I think your company is super cool and I love the idea of women leading women around the globe. I was thinking that could be worked into the tag line for the website. Also I think your logo could be designed a little better and so I’ve come up with these three ideas and if you like any of them let me know and we can change them to fit your needs.”

One of the three designs caught Abby by the throat. It was a simple rendition of a woman on bike, next to a twisting road, with mountains on one side of her and ocean on the other. In the drawing the woman’s arms were stretched out above her head. 

Abby paused the video.

Somehow this girl had captured her essence in one fell swoop, but that was impossible. There was no way she could have known or intuited the things that picture represented all by herself. Trevor must have had a hand in this. No one else would have known about that picture. But Trevor wasn’t even the keeper of that photograph, was he? It was taken on one of those old-style disposable cameras they took with them on road trips and developed later.

She went to her closet and pulled a box off the top shelf, rifling through ticket stubs and weird souvenirs until she found it. She brought the picture back to the kitchen and compared it to the design. It was nearly exact. But that was impossible.

The timer rang out for the fish so she turned the oven off and pulled it out, pouring another glass of wine. She picked at the food, right out of the casserole dish, because why get a plate when it was just her? Too many months eating in primitive places with little in the way of creature comforts had distilled mealtimes into a basic necessity. By the time she’d finished half her dinner and another glass of wine, the suspense was just about killing her.

She pulled Trevor’s card off the fridge and dialed the number for his office. It went to a very professional sounding voicemail where Trevor promised to return the call the next business day.

By this time Abby was pacing the kitchen, with her wine glass in one hand and her cell phone in the other.

“What the hell are you trying to prove, Trevor? You just show up here and assume everything can just pick up where it left off? It was half a lifetime ago and yet...by the way, how did you even get a copy of this picture? Did you keep the negatives? The irritating part is that I like her ideas, but I’m not saying I’m going to hire her. And...Ohfuck it! You suck, ok? I just called to tell you that you suck.”

She started to hang up the phone then pulled it back up to her ear again. “Oh, and by the way, this is Abby.”

Abby sat down hard in the kitchen chair, frustrated with her lack of self-control. “Well that was a stupid girl-move if I’ve ever seen one.” She said out loud, to no one in particular.

She left the kitchen and went to take a hot shower, pulling on an oversized sleep shirt and letting her hair air dry. Maybe some brainless movie would take her mind off of things. The wine was over half-gone when she set the bottle on the coffee table and switched on the tv, but then the doorbell rang. She looked at the clock. It was only seven-thirty but still, it was a little late for solicitors.

Rather than put on some pants she opened the door just a crack to tell whoever it was to go away, but it was Trevor. Again.

“Now what?!”

He smiled and shook his head. “It’s nice to see you again too.”

He was back in jeans and boots and a white tee-shirt, with the Gold Wing once again parked outside her condo.

“Yeah. Deja vu. What can I do for you Trev?”

“I got your voicemail.”

She could feel the color creeping into her face. “Yeah. Sorry about that.”She started to close the door on him but he stuck his hand out. “I wanted a chance to explain myself. Will you at least give me that?”

The wine was making her head fuzzy. It seemed like a good idea, which must mean it was a terrible idea, and she shook her head to clear it.

“How much have you had to drink?” He mused, still standing on the porch.

The realization began to sink in that he remembered more about her than she realized. She stood there debating whether or not to let him in, but she really wanted to hear the rest of this story. She had questions for him, and she wanted answers, damn it. She was leaving again soon and the unknowns would drive her fucking insane eventually.

She pulled the door open and as he stepped through it he handed her a bottle of wine, then looked down at her legs sticking out of the bottom of her tee-shirt.

“What’s this?” She asked.

“Peace offering.”

“Well I’ve already got one open but thanks. You can put it in the kitchen.” She handed it back to him. “I’m going to go put some pants on.”

“You don’t have to do that on my account.” Trevor’s eyes twinkled.

“You haven’t changed a bit.” She rolled her eyes and headed toward the bedroom. She could feel him watching her walk away so she turned to walk backwards. Sure enough he was still standing in the same spot, staring at her. “There some salmon in there if you’re hungry, unless of course those two burgers filled you up at lunch.”

Abby went to the bedroom and pulled on her yoga pants, realizing she probably needed to put a bra on too. She had no secrets from Trevor, but tempting fate was never a good idea where that man was concerned.

It wasn’t like she was in there long, but when she came out he was sitting on her couch with a plate of food and a glass of wine.

“Comfy?” She mused.

“I wasn’t going to eat but I took a bite of the salmon and it was really good! What’d you put on top there?”

She picked up her glass and sat on the opposite end of the couch. Intentionally. The gesture wasn’t lost on him and he laughed softly. She tried ton ignore it. “It’s a mixture of butter, soy, lemon and brown sugar.”

“It’s fantastic” he said, forking some more into his mouth. His enthusiasm was genuine, his appetite still that of a teenaged boy.

Abby sat there sipping her wine, watching him eat. She tried to think about all the questions that were in her mind earlier that day, but there was only one that really caused the splinter. She went to the kitchen and retrieved the photograph, the one Trevor had taken of her on Highway 1 somewhere south of Santa Cruz.

She dropped it on the table next to him. “How?”

He looked down at the photograph. He looked up at her. Then slowly he swallowed his food. “It’s stuck. In my mind. It’s how I always think of you.”

“But–”

“No, I didn’t keep the negatives.” He pointed to his head. “It’s just in here.”

Abby tried to digest that comment. Tried to acknowledge the implications of what it could mean. “I don’t understand.”

Trevor put his plate down. “I took two pictures that day. One on the camera and one in my mind. The one in my mind is as clear and detailed as the one you see here. Maybe more so. I can still remember how it smelled, what it felt like, the food we ate that morning.” He looked down at his shoes. “And the love we made that night.”

Abby remembered it too. They had one of those pop-up shelters that looked like a clam shell and mostly slept on the beach, making a bed out of two large travel blankets and the rest of their gear, building a fire for the first part of the night and keeping each other warm for the second. Sleep came in two to three hour increments in those days, in between love-making sessions that made them lose track of time. That night had been particularly special. Trevor spent hours appreciating every inch of her body by the light of a full moon. It was the first night they professed their love for one another.

Both stubborn by nature, they’d spent months prior to that night traveling and exploring and making love but never actually talking about love. Something about that big full moon changed everything though. His voice was soft, his touch gentle, and everything seemed framed in light. They were already inseparable, but that night had solidified it.

She knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him, no matter where the road might lead.

“When Kelsey looked at your website she asked me to tell her about you. About what was unique about you, so she could design a logo.”

“And that’s the memory you picked?”

“Yes.” He said, without apology. “I told her you were always trying to find the road to freedom. That it had taken you just about everywhere. But that you found a taste of it right there, between the mountains and the sea. And that was the happiest I’d ever seen you.”

“So she knows about us.”

“Yes.”

“What does she know? What did you tell her?”

“That you were my first love.”

Abby looked down. He didn’t elaborate, but then again, he didn’t have to. In that moment it didn’t matter that they’d spent fifteen years apart. It didn’t matter that Trevor had been with someone else all those years, even if it was on and off as he described it.

Miles of history stretched between them. And truth. Undeniable truth.

The silence was filled with everything but words, so he poured them both another glass of wine and disposed of the empty bottle. When he came back from the kitchen he was carrying the other bottle–the peace offering–in one of his hands. His other was up in the air, as if it could stop her words before they came out of their mouth.

“Before you say anything, I’m not that guy anymore. I don’t drink the brown stuff. It’s beer or wine only, and I know how to keep myself in check. Helps me keep my girlish figure.”

He winked at her, and she couldn’t help but smile, shaking her head. His figure was anything but girlish. Somewhere between his twenties and thirties he’d developed a broad chest and a decent set of biceps. She could feel the familiar pangs of want rising up, unbidden.

His eyes trailed her shirt, stopping at her chest. She watched his eyes flicker before he swallowed once and looked away. She glanced down at her nipples, which were standing up beneath the apparently too-thin bra she’d chosen. She couldn’t help her reaction to him. It had always been that way, for as long as she’d known him, even before they started dating.

They spent hours working on motorcycles together in a hot garage, and yet her tank top would always betray her. He used to tease relentlessly about how excited she got wrenching on bikes and how her enthusiasm was a real turn-on.

She tried to put that night on the beach out of her mind. “That was a long time ago Trevor. A lot of things have changed since then.”

“Yes, a lot of things have, but you haven’t!” He sat down. “You’re still her inside!” He pointed to the picture. “And that’s why Kelsey’s logo design fits so well! Look–” He pointed to the picture again. “It’s got the element of freedom built right into the design. The mountains and the ocean represent world travel over all sorts of terrain, and the woman on the bike is saying ‘You can do this! You can have it all and I’m going to show you how to get it!’ There’s a reason this day is stuck in my mind. And there’s a reason it’s in yours too. It was the first time you started to believe in yourself. To believe in love.”

“Yeah well, look how well that turned out.” She huffed, downing the last of her glass. She put her fingers to her forehead to stay the rush that followed.

“Slow down, cowgirl.” He took the glass from her hand and set it down on the table. He held one of her hands and sat down closer to her on the couch. “Listen, I didn’t know you’d be at Pop’s today. I’m not stalking you. I told her not to send the email until I’d talked to you about it, but when I told her I saw you today, she got all excited. I told her you were thinking about it. That’s all, I swear.”

“But that logo. That didn’t just come up this afternoon.”

“No.” He looked down at the floor.

“Why do I get the sense that I’m not going to like the rest of this story?”

“A couple of weeks after Claire died Kelsey decided that you only live once, you know? She decided she wanted to learn to ride.”

“So? Teach her. You get to call the shots now. You’re the surviving parent.”

“She asked me if I knew any women that rode, so I told her about you. We looked you up online and found an article in the local paper about your company, so we went to the website.” Trevor looked down, at the table instead of at her face.

“And?”

“She became kind of obsessed with the idea of women and motorcycles. She started doing research all on her own. Your story intrigues her. She wants to travel. She wants to see the world before she gets diagnosed with some terminal disease. Listen, I know it’s not exactly a healthy coping mechanism, but it hasn’t been all that long. She’s just trying to cope.”

Abby knew what it was like to lose a parent. Both at once, actually, and even though she was well into her adulthood when it happened, the feeling was the same. It created a sort of identity crisis that took time to reconcile. Especially if Kelsey and Claire had been close.

“Claire used to cut hair for the woman who gave Kelsey piano lessons, kind of a barter system. So one day she asked if I thought you might be willing to teach her how to ride if she did some design work for you.”

“I’m not a replacement for her mother. If anything I’m the antithesis of Claire. Not to mention she would be rebelling against the fact that her mom forbid her to learn to ride.”

“Claire forbid it because she always felt threatened by you. And because she felt so guilty for tearing us apart.”

Abby sat up. “That is not my problem. None of this is my problem, and I can’t believe you’re playing the dead mom card on me.”

Trevor sighed. “I don’t blame you for being mad at me. For a whole lifetime of anger, ok? I’m just asking if you can find it in your heart to help me through this transition with Kelsey. I don’t know what I’m doing here Abbs. I’m still just getting to know Kelsey. And she needs some stability. Something to focus on. This isn’t about you and me. It’s about Kelsey.”

It was still tremendously unfair of him to ask these things, but she felt trapped by Kelsey’s admiration paired by the loss of her mother. “Surely you could have introduced her to other women who ride. You can’t tell me you’ve been celibate all this time.”

“Oh, now that hurts.”

“If the shoe fits.” She rolled her eyes.

“What does sex have to do with riding, anyway?” His head popped back in surprise.

“You tell me.” She answered. “It always seemed to be a trigger for you.”

“No, Abby.You were the trigger.”

His comment stopped her heart momentarily. She swallowed with some difficulty as he let the words hang in the air. It didn’t make any sense. How could he have known anything at all about her life? After all that time had gone by, a simple question from his daughter brought Abby back to the front of his mind?

“And besides, I don’t know anyone who’s stronger or more accomplished than you.” His candor was startling, his words matter of fact. 

Abby was silent for a long time, but when she finally spoke, her shoulders had relaxed and she leaned back into the couch cushions. “She looks just like you, you know.”

He smiled. “Yeah. I know. Poor kid.”