Page 9 of Jace
The bike slows, and Jace veers off the main road onto a dirt path, the tires crunching over gravel. My stomach flips—not just from the change in terrain, but from the realization that we’re alone now, far from the school, the bar, the world I know.
Jace pulls into a clearing, a secluded lookout overlooking Willow Creek’s rolling hills, the town’s lights twinkling faintly below. The engine cuts off, and the sudden silence is deafening, broken only by the chirp of crickets and my own ragged breathing.
Jace swings off the bike, offering me a hand.
“You good, boy?” His voice is low, rough, with that commanding edge that makes my knees weak.
I nod, but my legs are shaky as I dismount, my fingers brushing his. His hand is warm, calloused, and the brief contact sends a jolt through me.
“That was… intense,” I manage, pushing my glasses up my nose, trying to regain some semblance of control, and all the while trying to adjust my trousers so that my all-too-obvious boner is at least partially hidden.
Jace chuckles, a deep sound that feels like it could unravel me.
“Told you. Nothing like it.” He steps closer, his eyes locked on mine, and I feel the weight of his gaze, like he’s seeing every thought I’m trying to hide. “You held on tight, though. Not bad for a first-timer.”
I roll my eyes, but a smile tugs at my lips.
“Don’t get cocky,” I shoot back. “I’m still deciding if this was a terrible idea.”
“Oh, it’s a terrible idea,” Jace says, his grin wicked. “But you’re here, aren’t you?”
Damn, he’s good.
Maybe too good.
But I can’t argue with that. I turn away, walking to the edge of the lookout to steady myself, the cool evening air a relief against my flushed skin.
The view is beautiful, all soft hills and distant lights, but it’s Jace who’s got my attention. He’s leaning against the bike, lighting a cigarette, the flame casting shadows across his sharp jaw. His tattoos peek out from under his sleeves, and the wolf skull patch on his vest reminds me who he is—a Wolf Rider, a man whose world is built on danger and defiance.
I should be running, but I know that I’m going nowhere.
“Why teaching?” Jace asks, surprising me. He takes a drag, the smoke curling around him like a ghost. “You’re smart, Caleb. Could’ve been a lawyer, a doctor, some big shot. You could be earning those big bucks. Driving a Porsche. All that fancy shit. So why teaching, and why here?”
I blink, caught off guard by the question.
Nobody’s asked me that, not really. I wrap my arms around myself, the breeze chilling my skin.
“I wanted to make a difference,” I say, the words feeling small but true. “Not in some courtroom or hospital, but with kids who need someone to believe in them. I don’t need money. Not really. But it’s not like it’s an easy life. Willow Creek’s not exactly a fairy tale, you know.”
He nods, his eyes softening just a fraction. “Yeah. I know.”
There’s a weight to his words, like he’s seen the town’s underbelly in ways I never will.
I want to ask—about his life, his scars, the club—but the intensity in his gaze stops me.
Jace flicks the cigarette away, closing the distance between us, and my breath catches as his hand brushes my thigh, a fleeting touch that feels deliberate.
“You’re different, Caleb,” Jace says, his voice low, intimate. “Most people around here, they’re just surviving. You’re… living forsomething. I…”
My heart stumbles. He’s so close now, his heat cutting through the cool air, and I’m torn between stepping back and leaning in.
“And you?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. “What are you living for?”
He smirks, but there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—conflict, maybe.
“The ride. The danger. The…” Jace says. “Who the hell knows.”
“Come on, you can do better,” I say, a hint of sass in my voice. “I want to give you a B+ but right now you’re scraping a C-.”
