Dear Heart

17. Wendy

17

Wendy

After last night's outburst, Wendy expected to find Ollie in low spirits, maybe even on the edge of panic. But there was something easy, almost languid about the way he moved around his small garage apartment, rattling ice into glasses and mixing them Jack and Cokes. An unhurried, graceful way of moving she hadn't seen since they were kids.

Something was up.

"You look pretty relaxed," she said, tempering her words with a smile as he joined her in front of the TV.

Ollie sat down so they were pressed together, side-to-side in the center of the couch, and handed over her drink with a small, inexplicably happy smile of his own. "Yeah. Guess so."

She started to ask why, and then caught herself, realizing he was stressed so often she was starting to think he wasn't capable of being relaxed and happy. Which...damn. He deserved way more credit than that.

She wouldn't bring up last night, she decided. Not if it might ruin his mood.

She sipped her drink, the fizzy warm-and-cool burn tickling her throat, the bubbles making her nose twitch. "So when can I cash in that bike ride I asked for?"

His brows lifted, but he said, "Now, if you want."

"Really?"

"Don't see why not." He set his own drink on the coffee table, untouched. "I just gotta dig you up a helmet."

The idea of the refurbished Harley scared her a little, so she kept sipping and watched, content to let her eyes trace the strong expanse of Ollie's back as he went to a footlocker up against the wall and rooted around for a while. If she hadn't suggested a ride, she would have liked to walk up behind him and lay hands on the firm curve of his ass.

"Aha." He came up triumphant, a scuffed black helmet in one hand. "It's my size, so it'll be too big."

"It'll be fine."

He looked excited.

~*~

So...the bike was amazing. She got to sit right behind him on the bump seat, pressed against his back, arms around his waist, thighs gripping his hips. She hooked her chin on his shoulder and watched the sunset rush toward them, its burnished light glinting off mailboxes, windows, and car fenders. The wind was bitter against her face and hands, but Ollie's muscled bulk was so, so warm. She felt like she melted into him, during that ride, or maybe she just wanted to. He had perfect control of the bike, and he seemed strong, and capable, and welded together with reinforced metal seams. She'd never had such a sense of safety.

Last light was an orange kiss along the horizon as he pulled up to a curb and killed the engine. Wendy smiled when she saw the silhouettes of the Pavilion Towers, backlit by the last wink of sunset. Corona Park. The marvels of the 1964 World's Fair. And beyond, the Unisphere, legacy of the Perisphere, which belonged to the Greatest Generation.

She regretted the loss of warmth, chilled now from the wind, as Ollie slid off the bike. But he held out his hand for her, and she took it, let him pull her to her feet. They left their helmets and struck off down the sidewalk, hand-in-hand.

"I always felt like," she started, and Ollie squeezed her hand when she hesitated, encouraging her. "Like this place was too important to be home. You know?"

He grunted a question.

"This place was important. Is important. I always feel like I'm not important enough to think that I lived here."