Aliyah's POV

The morning air was damp and cool, the kind that clung to my skin and made the inside of my nose tingle. I woke to the sound of metal clinking, followed by the low scrape of a wrench against something solid.

When I unzipped the tent flap, Asher was crouched beside his bike, sleeves shoved up, hands dark with grease. The sun hadn’t fully broken through the clouds yet, but a soft pale light pooled over him, catching on the line of his jaw.

“Morning,” he said without ...