The outskirts brushed against the countryside, raising memories of school field trips and one time her father had brought her along to visit a friend. The club member had gotten too old to do much around the clubhouse. He was wheelchair-bound and lonely. While her dad talked to the man, Santana played with his cats. When the engine stopped vibrating between her legs, she came back to herself with a start. Glancing around, she realized they’d stopped in front of a small house. “Welcome to my chateau.” He climbed off and removed his helmet, hanging it on the handlebar. “It’s a duplex. Right side’s mine. Rent’s affordable and…well, I like the quiet away from town.” She understood. After she and her mother had left, they’d lived in several cramped apartments right on the main thoroughfare. All night long she’d endured loud voices, music, and traffic. Eventually it had become a sort of lullaby. Paxton shifted his long legs as if unnerved by her silence. He jerked a thumb toward the house.
