yler spots me in the corner and quickly strides toward me. I get to my feet, ignoring the sharp threads of pain in my ribs, and turn my grimace to a grin. Quick as a flash, he pulls off his helmet and places it on the table between us, about to pull me into a hug.

I divert his attempt by scooping up my bag and grabbing his hand instead. As much as I want to throw my arms around him, keeping him at a distance is my safest bet right now. If Sam could figure out I'm hurt, Tyler certainly will. It's why I can't wait to get my helmet back on – at least it'll mask my discomfort.

"We're not racing today," Tyler says.

My heart thumps faster as I wonder if Sam ratted me out. "Why?"

He frowns and steps forward, taking my bag from my shoulder and hooking it over his. "You had an accident last night, Roxy. Even if you're fine, you need to take a few days off."

I sigh. "Tyler–"

"One night isn't going to kill you," he says, and he flashes a grin. "Plus, I have something planned. We just need to ride up to our spot."

Something warm fills my chest at our spot. It's not really, it's his and Alex's from when they were children, but it feels nice to be included. "I guess one day won't hurt," I say, smiling.

We head across the patio together, my hand in his, and hurry back down the steps. It always feels calming to be holding his hand, like a lifeline I didn't know I needed.

We get to our bikes, and I'm about to grab my helmet when he takes it for me and slips it over my head. I watch him as he does it, and it hits me how far we've come from that first day at the track, where I'd challenged him to a race. He'd given me that grin and walked straight past me, the perfect strangers; now look at us.

"I'll follow behind you," he says, and I wait for him to turn toward his bike before I attempt to climb on mine. There's a rush of pain to the side of my ribs, but it subsides once I've steadied myself. Before I know it, I won't feel anything at all.

The ride down the beaten path gives me a chance to gather my thoughts. Racing tonight would have been a bad idea, and I'm glad Tyler made the decision for me, but a part of me can't help but worry about the future. If Sam was right about one thing, it's that if Tyler finds out the truth about my injury, he won't let me train for at least a couple of weeks, and then what?

I sigh and go faster, enjoying the feel of the wind on my face, but the peacefulness of the journey is tarnished by a mix of voices whispering in my ear.

Losing isn't weak, giving up is.

Sometimes being brave is knowing when to give up.

If you want something bad enough, you fight through the pain.

The question is, whose voice am I to listen to?

I push them away and focus on the track, a beautiful yellow dirt path that winds up through the trees. It's almost nice to be going at this speed, like I can finally take a second to appreciate the beauty instead of rushing through it.

Heading up the hill proves the hardest, and the jerky maneuvers feel like hell to my ribs, but it's not long before I'm at the top and I'm ambling through the trees. Tyler races ahead as usual, veering down the path and off to the left toward the clearing. By the time I get there, he's already taken off his helmet and is staring at the little town of Parkwood.

With a deep breath, I climb off my bike, wincing, and straighten up before meeting him in the clearing. It doesn't seem to matter how many times I've been here before, this view still takes my breath away. I walk toward Tyler, taking in the purple ink sky that sits above the rolling hills. It's littered with stars, the sky so clear that I can see every inch of the moon.

I'm about to say something about how beautiful it looks when Tyler walks over to one of the bushes and pulls out a tarp. Wrapped inside are two large blankets, pillows, and a picnic blanket. Without looking at me, he begins setting up a makeshift bed in front of the stars as I watch him in shock. Who knew Tyler was romantic?

When he's finished, he gets up and grabs my hand before leading me over to the blankets. "Tonight is supposed to be the clearest night of the year," he says, and I don't disagree. If I knew anything about stars, I'm certain I'd be able to spot some constellations up there. "Figured we could enjoy the view." When I don't say anything because I'm still in utter shock, he says, "It's stupid, I know–"

"It's not stupid," I interject. "It's actually amazing."

The cutest grin fills his lips as he leans down to unpack the contents of the picnic basket. When he's looking away, I somehow manage to lower myself to the blankets without yelping out.

Inside of the basket is an assortment of goodies from sandwiches and candy to chocolate-covered strawberries. The whole thing makes me want to pull him in close and never let go, but my ribs might have something to say about that.

He pulls out some candles next, along with his lighter, and strategically places them next to us before lighting them. It's like a night right out of a movie, only this time I'm not watching things through a screen, I'm actually living it.

"Who knew you were so sweet," I tease, but inside my chest is surging with emotion. No one has ever done this for me.

"What can I say, sirenita," he says. "You bring out the worst in me."

He settles down next to me and takes my hand in his, threading our fingers together. I inhale slightly as we stare at the sky, desperate to touch him and have him touch me back, all the while knowing that we can't.

One wrong touch, and all the lies I've told come undone.

❤️