Lightning Rider Read Online Free
fascinated.
Even after dropping my hand, the tiny strand of lightning stays in place, slithering and arcing across the metal surface. I cradle the tin and grip the banister, hopping up the flight one stair at a time.
On the landing, I glance back at the blue stream of electricity locking me in. That dark, glowing place in my belly hopes Nick comes back tonight and tries his key.
Chapter 2
An orchestra of rock music, grinders, and torches serenades me through my workday. Another cloud passes over the sun, dimming the room and jerking my attention to the high window. There’s still some blue sky. While I scan the curling edges of the white clouds, I rub the gloved tips of my left hand together, feeling for the slightest tingle, but whatever that was last night stays silent.
I sigh and twist the knob on my torch, killing the flame. After it cuts out, I flip up the welding helmet and survey the weld. Good enough for today.
“Bye, boys.” I toss the helmet, gloves, and apron on the bench and give the frame a final once-over before leaving.
Three grunts and a high-pitched good-bye escort me to the door, and I slip between everyone else’s rides and onto my own leather cradle.
Jax stands at the garage door, chain in hand. He gives me a hesitant wave and I blow him a kiss, but today the reddening around his ears does nothing for me. I roll past him, and he pulls the big door down behind my bike. I bite my lip. Delaying isn’t going to make this any easier, so I fire the engine and roar away from the shop.
Evidence of last night’s storm litters the route. Gutters overflow with winter debris washed downstream, pink and purple flowers poke up from the damp ground, and green shoots tint the edges of winter-burned grass. At the entrance to Mami and Papi’s neighborhood, two tall oaks stand as guardians, their spindled branches stretching toward each other in attempts to unwrap the leaf buds at their tips. I duck my head and barrel up the main street.
One street, two street, yellow park, three. I almost crack a smile at my old silly habit, but the moment vanishes as I turn into their circle and ease over the bump in the driveway.
I tuck the bike beside his Dodge, kill the motor, and sit. A school bus slows at the intersection, and four neighbor kids tumble out before screeching and shoving their way up the block. Last day of school today.
Enough. Quit stalling.
I get off, and my ankle pinches, still sore from last night. Limping, I cruise through the carport, knocking on the back door as I enter.
“Papi?”
Surrounded by blueprints and a wild assortment of tools, he leans back in his office chair. “Hey mija . What’s up?”
Silver-haired and soft from years of family and kids, he barely resembles the world-champion fighter everyone else remembers. I never cared, but sometimes I think he misses the fighting and the traveling. Posters of every conceivable vacation locale plaster the walls, maps cover the desk beneath protective glass, a globe on a stick pokes up from his pen jar. I swallow and force myself to make eye contact.
He smiles, and my nerves melt. Nothing can get me here. Not even my bad choices. I lean against the door and blow out a breath. Tears sting my eyes and I blink rapidly.
That gets him flying out of his chair and wrapping me in an embrace of sweet comfort. I bury my face in his collar but just for a second. He smells like sawdust and peppermint.
“I’m fine. Really.”
He holds me at arm’s length, and I fidget. “Come. Sit. Tell me what’s got you on my doorstep.”
As I step away, he pats my wild hair. “Rough night?”
“Mmm. You could say that.” I settle into his office chair, and he moves a giant stack of papers to unearth a stool. He climbs on and pats my knee.
“Spill it.”
I flutter the edge of a set of blueprints. “I need a place to crash.”
“What? Here? Of course you can stay here.”
“Maybe for a couple of weeks. I, um, had to sleep on the
Even after dropping my hand, the tiny strand of lightning stays in place, slithering and arcing across the metal surface. I cradle the tin and grip the banister, hopping up the flight one stair at a time.
On the landing, I glance back at the blue stream of electricity locking me in. That dark, glowing place in my belly hopes Nick comes back tonight and tries his key.
Chapter 2
An orchestra of rock music, grinders, and torches serenades me through my workday. Another cloud passes over the sun, dimming the room and jerking my attention to the high window. There’s still some blue sky. While I scan the curling edges of the white clouds, I rub the gloved tips of my left hand together, feeling for the slightest tingle, but whatever that was last night stays silent.
I sigh and twist the knob on my torch, killing the flame. After it cuts out, I flip up the welding helmet and survey the weld. Good enough for today.
“Bye, boys.” I toss the helmet, gloves, and apron on the bench and give the frame a final once-over before leaving.
Three grunts and a high-pitched good-bye escort me to the door, and I slip between everyone else’s rides and onto my own leather cradle.
Jax stands at the garage door, chain in hand. He gives me a hesitant wave and I blow him a kiss, but today the reddening around his ears does nothing for me. I roll past him, and he pulls the big door down behind my bike. I bite my lip. Delaying isn’t going to make this any easier, so I fire the engine and roar away from the shop.
Evidence of last night’s storm litters the route. Gutters overflow with winter debris washed downstream, pink and purple flowers poke up from the damp ground, and green shoots tint the edges of winter-burned grass. At the entrance to Mami and Papi’s neighborhood, two tall oaks stand as guardians, their spindled branches stretching toward each other in attempts to unwrap the leaf buds at their tips. I duck my head and barrel up the main street.
One street, two street, yellow park, three. I almost crack a smile at my old silly habit, but the moment vanishes as I turn into their circle and ease over the bump in the driveway.
I tuck the bike beside his Dodge, kill the motor, and sit. A school bus slows at the intersection, and four neighbor kids tumble out before screeching and shoving their way up the block. Last day of school today.
Enough. Quit stalling.
I get off, and my ankle pinches, still sore from last night. Limping, I cruise through the carport, knocking on the back door as I enter.
“Papi?”
Surrounded by blueprints and a wild assortment of tools, he leans back in his office chair. “Hey mija . What’s up?”
Silver-haired and soft from years of family and kids, he barely resembles the world-champion fighter everyone else remembers. I never cared, but sometimes I think he misses the fighting and the traveling. Posters of every conceivable vacation locale plaster the walls, maps cover the desk beneath protective glass, a globe on a stick pokes up from his pen jar. I swallow and force myself to make eye contact.
He smiles, and my nerves melt. Nothing can get me here. Not even my bad choices. I lean against the door and blow out a breath. Tears sting my eyes and I blink rapidly.
That gets him flying out of his chair and wrapping me in an embrace of sweet comfort. I bury my face in his collar but just for a second. He smells like sawdust and peppermint.
“I’m fine. Really.”
He holds me at arm’s length, and I fidget. “Come. Sit. Tell me what’s got you on my doorstep.”
As I step away, he pats my wild hair. “Rough night?”
“Mmm. You could say that.” I settle into his office chair, and he moves a giant stack of papers to unearth a stool. He climbs on and pats my knee.
“Spill it.”
I flutter the edge of a set of blueprints. “I need a place to crash.”
“What? Here? Of course you can stay here.”
“Maybe for a couple of weeks. I, um, had to sleep on the
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