Losing Francesca by J. A. Huss

hard the air is coming out in disturbing gasps.
    I lean over and hold out my hand. "You wanna run, Fee? I'll get you out of here, get on."
    She scrambles to her feet, looking around wildly, then hops on the back and wraps her arms around my stomach.
    It feels so fucking good I almost forget to change gears when we pick up speed. The bike chokes a little and I feel her squeeze me tighter. I slip my hand down to hers and press her into me.
    Fiona .
    It's really her.
    She responds with a sigh and then pushes her face into my back and wraps her arms around my waist. Her chest is still heaving in and out with breathlessness, and her mouth against my back is soft and warm.
    I want her.
    But I concentrate on the ride instead, and making our way through the trails so that we come out somewhere they won't expect, because if I get her somewhere unexpected, I can have her to myself for a little while. Just a little while, that's all I need. Just long enough to tell her all the millions of ways I imagined us meeting again.
    Sean was right back at the store—I was obsessed with Fiona after she went missing and if I'm going to be completely honest with myself, I'm still obsessed.
    I take us down into a little ravine and when we pop back up she slips away from me a little. The panic that sets in when I feel her separated from me is inexplicable, but it washes over me so completely I have to swallow and tell myself she's still there.
    I think she feels it because she buries her head in my back again and I feel her sigh.
    She sighed.
    Her panic is dying.
    And I did that.
    We ride for twenty more minutes, going slow most of the time, going deeper into our wooded land. We have some trails back here that we can use for riding, but they're not well traveled. Case and Park never liked to go exploring. If you asked a psychologist they'd tell you it's got something to do with the parents dying, but if that's the case, they must be psychic. Because they never liked to wander away from home even before the parents were annihilated by a drunk driver on Christmas Eve five years ago.
    And that's a good thing for Fee and me, because while they both know we have a shed out in the woods, they've never actually been out there themselves.
    But Renn and I have. And Renn is out of town until next weekend. So that just leaves me.
    I know all these trails out here for one reason only. And that's because when Fiona went missing this is where I used to look for her.
    At first it was just a little kid's fantasy—go exploring in the woods, looking for a missing girl. When you're little you don't care if those woods are nothing but a few elm trees in your back yard, you give them the same attention, see the same bad guys, or monsters, or wild animals as you would in the Amazon jungle.
    But our woods are all sorts of spectacular. They've got old trees in them, old hardwood trees that block out the sun because they are so tall. And fall down and rot and hide little furry creatures in them and maybe even offer sanctuary to the occasional lost black bear.
    I must have spent four entire summers, and I'm not exaggerating here, four entire summers out here, traipsing around these deer trails looking for my soulmate. And now she's clinging to me, pressing her mouth into my back, breathing me in and letting her panic go with each exhale.
    I plan on keeping her for as long as I can. Until we're dying of thirst and our stomachs are rumbling, and we're filthy from sleeping in the dirt under the stars.
    And that's probably tonight at the latest.
    But I'll take it.
    A few hours alone with Fee in the woods is worth more than a million dollars right now. Because there is nothing I want more than this girl.

Chapter Eleven - Francesca

    We slow down after almost a half hour of straight riding, in silence. If he's uncomfortable with it, it doesn't show. I wait for him to try and make conversation over the hum of the bike, but he doesn't. His hands don't grab mine again, either. He