Out of Control ✔

FIFTH CHAPTER

The last time Juanita had been on a motorcycle, was a few years ago now. Angel had liked to take her for a ride now and then and even though she lacked her own license, he'd allowed her to ride his bike for small distances. She missed those times. Riding along the beach, and through the forests. Just being with her brother, having him close and finding the most remote spots to go and talk about nothing. Ever since he got involved with the Mayans, trips like those had become scarce, but he had always tried to find ways to spend time with her. Their relationship had always been good, better than her relationship with Ezekiel. Usually people of the same age got along better, but she had always liked the way Angel was pushing the boundaries, something she had never dared to do. Even though he was always taking risks, she felt safe with him and now that she had heard his voice after all those years away she had this intense longing for his embrace. Suddenly the loneliness was washing over her, she squeezed her eyes shut and tried to push away the tears.

"Thought you knew how to ride."

Coco's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. She'd been so wrapped up in the memories she'd forgotten where she was – and with who.

"I do," she said. "My mind was just drifting off."

Before he could say anything more, she started the engine, lifted her foot from the ground and took off. Coco wrapped an arm around her waist and scooted closer to her than he needed to. She could feel his breath on her neck and briefly looked over her shoulder to see his wounded leg.

"This okay?" she asked.

"Never been better."

Even though she couldn't see his face, she knew he was smirking. Chuckling, she shook her head and focused on the road. The wind played with her hair while they rode back towards civilization, and she felt more peaceful then she had in years. Riding had always given her a sense of freedom. Even though nobody at the camp kept her from going anywhere, she still felt like a prisoner. Someone who had become imprisoned by her own decisions.

Over an hour later Juanita parked the bike in front of the hospital. She waited until Coco had climbed off before she left the vehicle herself. She took off the helmet and gave it back to the man it belonged too.

She laid an arm around his back to help him inside the building and felt relieved once he sat down on a chair. It had been years since she had set foot in Santo Padre and she was afraid that someone would recognize her.

"I can't stay here," she told Coco. "I don't want anyone to see me here."

He looked up, his brown eyes shining with curiosity. "Then how do you get back?"

Juanita bit her lip. She hadn't thought that far ahead. She couldn't ask a cab to bring her to a rebel camp. "I'll find a way," she said on a shrug.

Coco groaned as he leaned to the left to take out something of his pocket. It was a key. "Go to my house. It's empty." He smirked as he saw her hesitation. "Might still need your nursing hands later."

She snorted. "Think we're even now."

"Not if you stay at my place."

Juanita looked over her shoulder as more people entered the waiting room. She had to decide now.

"Fine," she sighed, grabbing the key from his hands. "Where can I find that house of yours?"

He summed up the street name and number and she cemented it to her memory.

Santo Padre wasn't a big city, she knew the street he was talking about, it was within walking distance – at least when there wasn't a bullet in your leg.

"You'll find it?"

She nodded. "I will."

She hesitated, not knowing how to say goodbye. In the end she just turned around without saying a word and walked away from him.