Whisky Throttle (Throttle Series, #1)

thirty-three

Calla

"Wow," Maddox says, removing his helmet. He rests it under his arm and observes the spacious piece of land. We're surrounded by dense birch trees, grassy terrain, and a trickling creek that winds across the trail. We're just off of Trail 432, tucked away in our own personal nook. Although I prefer this location in the fall, it's stunning how green it is considering the hot temperatures we've had. "This is nice. I don't know if I can say I've taken this trail before. I tend to stick to the dirt bike trails when I'm with Vance and avoid crossing the gulley when I'm alone."

I sidle up beside him, a smile on my face. "I knew you'd like it." I jerk my head towards the backpacks. "Let's get the tent set up."

Maddox and I immediately get to work. Our ride lasted three hours, so dusk is creeping closer and closer with each minute that passes. If there's one thing I hate about summer it's noticing, close to the end of August, how much shorter the days are getting. It acts as a reminder of what's to come. I'm not looking forward to not seeing Maddox every day, but we'll find a way to work around it. I have to believe that otherwise I'm going to overthink our situation and inflict stress upon myself.

When we're done setting up the tent and our sleeping arrangements, we step back to admire our work. It's a fair-sized tent, with two tarps draped over the top and slanted so if it rains tonight, we won't be soaking wet in the morning. Our pots and pans, packaged foods, large water bottles, and snacks are just outside, next to our dirt bike boots. It was Maddox's idea to pack an extra pair of shoes so the process of unpacking would be easier.

I glance down at my socks and sandals. He was right. I can't imagine setting up camp while walking like Frankenstein.

Maddox wraps his arm around my shoulders. "We did a good job, Calls," he smiles. No. He's not smiling—he's practically beaming. "Mom and Dad were still together the last time I tented in the middle of nowhere. I'm glad we get to remake those memories."

I side-glance him. The smile on his face is bittersweet, combined with happiness and melancholy. It hurts my heart to see someone so torn between liking and disliking their past. We're supposed to have good and bad moments during our lives, but not with such a tipped scale like Maddox's. I wish I could take away all these bad memories he has and replace them with good ones. "I'm sorry," I whisper, resting my head against his shoulder.

"There's nothing to be sorry about," he replies. "For the most part, my childhood was good. My parents loved each other, and they loved me. Things just... things didn't turn out the way I wanted them to."

"What was your mom like?"

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I want to retract them. I drop my face into my hands and groan. I was doing a good job of keeping my mouth shut up until now. "Sorry. I didn't bite my tongue fast enough."

Maddox chuckles, leading me to the fallen log. We sit down and I watch Maddox lean forward. He starts building a tipi-like structure with the kindling we collected earlier. "Curiosity is natural. I don't mind when you ask about my family." He glances up at me, a small smile on his lips. "I have to say, though, I am impressed with the progress you've made. You haven't overexploited for information for a while now."