“Here’s your culprit,” she said, after she’d carefully worked it free.
Sebastian grunted. Abby pulled a dollar bill out of her jersey’s back pocket, folded it in half horizontally, then placed it inside the tire, against the spot where the glass had poked through. Sebastian rummaged in the bag fastened to his seat post. He’d just extracted a fresh tube when Lincoln, who’d gone off to use what Jasper called the facili-trees, came strolling out of the woods.
“You haven’t gotten that changed yet?” he asked, wiping his forehead.
Sebastian didn’t reply.
“He’s not in a very good mood,” Abby stage-whispered.
“That’s an exciting change of pace,” Lincoln stage-whispered back.
“Both of you be quiet,” Sebastian grumbled after he’d attached the nozzle to his pump, put air into the tube, then threaded the valve stem through the wheel. “And for God’s sake, stop staring.”
Abby ostentatiously turned away. “I have averted my eyes,” she announced, and sat down again, face tilted toward the sky. Lincoln sat beside her and offered her a strip of fruit leather. She gnawed at it while Sebastian kept up a steady stream of curses and imprecations. Finally, he got the tube inflated and in place and worked the tire back onto the wheel.
“Well done!” Abby said, giving him a cheesy grin with a thumbs-up on top. Sebastian glared at her. Then Lincoln frowned at him pointedly, and Sebastian’s expression became contrite.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice a low rasp that Abby felt in the pit of her belly.
She swallowed hard. “It’s fine. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do to make this a better experience.” The words were barely out of her mouth before her mind served up a scene from that night in his bedroom. They’d been lying on their sides, facing each other, kissing. He’d had his hands on her hips and one of his legs between her legs, the top of his thigh angled so that she could grind against it. Get on top, he’d said. I want to see you. She’d done as he’d urged her, and he’d reached up, cupping her breasts, holding them in his hands, groaning, God, you’re beautiful.
“Want to ride with us? Keep us company?” Sebastian asked, his voice still that low, intimate rumble. Abby could feel herself blushing.
“I should go check on everyone,” she said and picked up her pace, counting the days in her head. Twelve more days, she thought. Less than two weeks, to avoid him, and not murder her mother. She’d get the riders to Buffalo, alive and in one piece. She’d make a decision about Mark, and the rest of her life. She’d figure it out, somehow.
Morgan
Day Four: Hudson to Amsterdam Seventy-one miles
Did you find someone to help you?” Olivia asked.
“Not yet.” Morgan’s mom was in the shower, and Morgan had taken her phone to the far edge of the hotel parking lot, so that she wouldn’t be overheard. She was already dressed, in bike shorts and a tee shirt, and, underneath it, a sports bra that was squeezing her painfully. Her breasts usually felt tender the day or two before she got her period. Part of her wanted to hope that’s what this was, that she wasn’t really pregnant, and that all she had to do was wait.
But part of her knew better.
“Like, I’m not even sure they’ll give you the pills if they don’t think you’ve got someone to take you home, or to your hotel, or whatever, and take care of you,” Olivia said.
Morgan felt her insides clench, and her breath catch in her throat. They would give her the pills. They’d have to.
“How many days until you’re in Syracuse?” Olivia asked.
“Three.”
“I really think you should talk to your mom,” Olivia said. Again. Morgan closed her eyes. “Just give her a chance,” Olivia said, before Morgan could explain to her—again—why the idea of telling Lily was a nonstarter. “And if she tells you no, you can just get to the appointment by yourself.”
“There’s no way.” Morgan’s voice was muted. She knew what her mother would do, if she learned about Morgan’s intentions. Lily would stick to Morgan, every minute of the day, not leaving her alone for a second, not giving her a chance to slip away and take care of things. Then they’d be home, and she’d tell Morgan’s dad, and Brody, and that would be the end of it. They’d probably lock her in her bedroom until it was time for her to give birth.
“I’ll find someone,” she told Olivia.