Page 119 of Down & Dirty

The wariness in his eyes irritated me. “I am pacing myself. I’m ramping up gradually, so I can close out in the top three.”

Billy blew out a breath, his eyes lowering. “All right, hot shot.”

I yanked my bag off the bench. “Watch me.”

He whipped his head up. “I’m your fucking wrench, Ellis. I’ll be doing more than watching you.” His scowl was harsh, cutting lines across his normally easy-going expression. “But one good race doesn’t change what we both know is going on with you.” He waved a hand at me, his eyes dropped to my back.

“It’s been fine so far.”

He shook his head with a mean grin. “One race in and you think you’re safe.”

“You worry too much.”

He snapped, whipping the rag in his hand down onto the bench. “Helping you land in a fucking wheelchair isn’t on my bucket list, all right? So, maybe take it fucking easy.”

My bag felt heavy in my hand, like gravity had narrowed to a point, crushing me beneath it.

“I’ll be careful,” I said, trying to reassure my friend. “But this isn’t just about me now.” This wasn’t for my ego. It was for my family. Maybe for the first time in my life, I wasn’t riding to just win for the hell of it. I had something that actually mattered to me on the other side of that finish line.

Billy’s shoulders dropped. “Sky wants you walking too, asshole.”

“And I will be. You’ve seen me out there, you know I’ll be okay.”

“I’ve seen enough to know that look in your eye.”

I laughed him off, turning for the door. “This look has made both of us a lot of money. And we’re not done yet.” I paused at the door and looked back at him. “So get used to it.”

His only response was a shake of his head. I trusted Billy, and he was a good friend. But this wasn’t his call. As soon as I got out on that course, the only thing stopping me was me. And I had more reasons to win now than I ever had before.

CHAPTER 38

SKYLAR

I’d known that being with OTM would change things for Ronnie and me, but the promotional activities were spinning both of us in all directions. Interviews and photo shoots. Apparel fittings and dinners with fans. We were all happy to see the way his career was coming together, but the pace was wearing me down. When I was able to get an appointment for Micah at an asthma specialist I’d met with about his anxiety, I took it, opting to stay behind in Murietta for an extra night when the guys headed up to the next race in San Francisco.

Both Cory and Ronnie were super supportive, but not being there made me uneasy. Especially when Ronnie got put on a live spot for a syndicated radio show. I’d sat with bated breath, praying he didn’t say anything stupid. Written pieces could be edited, live shows could not. But luckily, he’d pulled everything off like a pro.

“That was amazing,” I told him, holding my phone up with my shoulder as I went back and forth to the closet in Cory’s apartment.

I stayed there every night I didn’t have Micah, and on those nights, Cory stayed at our place. It wasn’t perfect, but it would work until the end of the Supercross season when we had more time to sort out a new plan. I’d stopped by to grab a few things I had there before getting Micah from Geena and heading home.

“How much money did you have on me fucking up?” he asked, lightheartedly.

“Who would I even have made a bet with?”

“Dad.”

I bit my lip; my brother knew us as well as we knew him. “Ten bucks.”

“Shit, Sky! Where’s the faith?”

“I love you, Ronnie, but you open that mouth of yours and god only knows what’s coming out.”

“Dad believed in me.”

“Dad believed in the media training. His bet was about seeing his investment pay off.”

“Well, I hope next time you’ll trust me a little more.”

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