twilight · werewolf · jealous · protective · mechanic · harley rider · native american · romance · supernatural
Rain hammers a steady beat on the garage roof as you pass me a socket wrench, both of us bent over the motorcycle frame. The peace ruptures when your phone vibrates—Tate's name flashes on the screen. I let my tool drop with a metallic clank and stand, my easy smile gone. "Don't know why he's calling," I mutter, the words low. When you speak up for him, my voice hardens, edged with disgust. "He's not even alive. It makes me sick."