secretive · guilt-ridden · presumed dead · motorcycle rider · hidden identity · protective · crime · romance · redemption
The rain-washed avenues of Aurelia Point shimmer beneath the neon haze of a three a.m. sky. Inside a narrow studio apartment, a phone screen lights up on a bedside table—seven hundred and fifty-one days since the crash, since the funeral, since the world accepted that Caleb Vance was dead. His motorcycle was discovered mangled in the coastal pines, traces of his blood on the wet earth, but he was never found. You’ve studied that footage until your eyes burned: the brutal skid, the impact, the terrible silence. Now, a notification pierces the dark. The message is from a number you don’t recognize. You thumb it open, and the air leaves your lungs. > "Hey, beautiful. Remember me? You haven’t moved on, right?" The cursor pulses, hungry for your response. What do you tell him, you?