Page 54 of On the Edge

Perhaps the guys had been right because my tension faded as soon as I took off on the bike. I blocked out Cyrus, all my worries and uncertainties, everything other than how good it felt to be back on the bike. The vibrations raced through me, every jolt and jostle linked to my decade-plus experience riding. I hadn’t forgotten a damn thing other than how right this was.

Almost as right as being with Jonas.

Damn it, I didn’t want to think about anything other than riding. But as I rode farther out on the property, Jonas was right there with me, on my mind and in my heart. I wanted to show him the rugged beauty of this vista, the red rocks, scrubby plants, and endless sky. In a perfect world, I’d get cleared to race, and someday, I’d bring Jonas right here and?—

My brain tripped up.

Most of my worries around coming out were about fan reactions, competitor comments, and slow distancing from sponsors. Tony had been right that things were changing everywhere, even in macho-dominated sports. I no longer expected outright hostility, but nevertheless, I had a hard time picturing Jonas as a key part of my racing life. I felt strangely protective of him and what I’d found with him. I couldn’t stand the thought of any negativity reaching him.

But you’ll hurt him if you don’t come out. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

My bike was kicking up too much dust and roost for me to release the groan rising in my chest. I didn’t want to eat dirt—in more ways than one.

Breathe.I tried to harness my churning emotions. However, as a side effect of fixating on the ride itself, I noticed every bump, every rut, every damn rock, and all the various tweaks Joey and the mechanical team had made to improve this bike over last year’s model. The brakes were slightly more responsive but touchier than I preferred, not as linear. The chassis was morestable, which was a positive, but it wanted to stand up more in the corners, giving a more rigid feel.

Part of the bumpy ride might have been my long layoff or little differences in the suspension that we’d need to work on in the coming weeks. I started making more mental notes for Joey and the team. I liked how the bike was revving, but I wasn’t crazy about how the power seemed to flatten out on top. Slowly, I dropped back into professional racer mode, getting nitpicky about tiny details that would make a difference come race day.

Yeah, I’d missed this. A lot. The whip of the wind, the speed, the power thrumming through me, the ability to block out the rest of the world. Even Jonas. The ever-present dilemma of what to do about him would wait until later. I wasn’t going to settle anything out here other than?—

Thump.

Hell, I’d lost focus for a split second and hit a deeper rut than intended while coming out of a corner. That stiffer chassis wasn’t doing me any favors, and I had to work to stay upright and in control.

What if I crash?

I wasn’t even thirteen the first time I rode a dirt bike after going to some races with my family. I’d been hooked on the sport and fearless from the start. If I crashed, I crashed. Fall down. Get back up on the bike. Everyone said I was fearless, but really, I was simply determined. I fucking hated to lose, and if it took a hundred practice crashes for one race win, then bring it on. If I wasn’t dirty, tired, and bloody, had I really practiced?

What if I crash?

I’d laughed after my first big wipeout. Spit the dirt out of my mouth, cleaned off my goggles, looked at the impressive scrape on my forearm between my glove and jacket, and laughed, high on adrenaline. I’d waved off help and gotten right back on the bike.

“Look at that kid. Brass stones. He’s raw as hell, but he’s got what it takes.”I’d heard the pit dads talking later, and the more I crashed, the more people talked about my potential. I wore every crash after that as a badge of honor, one step closer to a championship, to proving I belonged.

And now, I didn’t want to crash.

For the first time, the fear of crashing outweighed the fear of losing or being seen as weak.

I’m definitely not ready to watch you be hauled off the track with another injury, knowing I can’t even go to you.

I wasn’t afraid for myself as much as for Jonas. I was no longer riding only for myself. I carried my dad’s worries, Jonas’s fears, the team’s needs all on my shoulders, pushing down like the gravity I was fighting so hard against.

Whoosh.

Muscle memory took over, and just like that, I was upright, through the corner, near fall behind me. But my head pounded, and the sun in my eyes felt like metal chisels chipping away at my sanity.

Fuck.

Now what?

Chapter Twenty-Six

Jonas

Work was a blessing because it limited my ability to text with Declan while he was in Arizona. I’d pulled another slow NP shift on a rainy night, the usual early spring assortment of colds, flu, sinus infections, and pulled muscles from overzealous spring cleaners and seasonal exercisers.

Obsessing over what Declan might be doing wasn’t going to help anything, and I needed to give him space to be with his team and have the discussions and appointments he’d gone for. But working another long shift was a curse when I finally had a break to check my phone, only to find Declan had finally messaged, and now it was too late to call and risk waking him up.

Hours earlier, he’d sent a pic of a desert sunset over craggy rocks and scrubby plants.Wish you were here. Doctor went okay. I’ll be home the day after tomorrow. Will tell you everything then.

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