Page 33 of Send It
“Listen, I love Colson. I do. Just be careful, okay? I don’t want you doing anything you might regret later.”
She sees the way I look at him but is clueless about how I feel. I would never ever regret Colson. Not ever.
“It’s not like that.” I repeat, trying to make her believe me. Hell, trying to make myself believe it.
“You two have always been close, baby, and I’m not blind. I just want you to be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
I chuckle under my breath, “Colson is an asshole but he’d never do anything to hurt me. Not on purpose.”
“I know that, but does Reiss?”
I shake my head adamantly. “There isn’t anything to know, Mom.”
She holds her hands up, admitting defeat. “Just be careful, that whole situation could get messy.”
“We aren’t talking about this because there is nothing to talk about.”
I grab my keys and head for the door but Mom’s voice stops me.
“Who is Reiss going out with?”
I laugh, knowing damn well she has no idea. “Mira Tate.”
Her eyes widened, “As in Landon Tate’s sister?”
“That’s the one.”
Mom looks like she’sreallytrying to figure that one out, so I leave her to it.
17
Colson
I couldn’t answer Reiss’ messages and I couldn’t go over to their house and let his parents dote on me and tell me how sorry they are, because as fucked up as it is… I feel relieved.
Not relieved that I need surgery. Not at all. But relieved that I’m not competing at Nationals.
The absolute anxiety that I’ve felt about racing for the past few months isn’t something I enjoy. I have been constantly afraid of getting hurt. I think I knew that something was wrong with my leg and it took this to wake me up to see it. The fact that I kept riding infuriates me. Imagine if I did something to make it worse. Something that couldn’t be fixed.
That part scares me the most. I want a future where I’m not constantly in pain from previous injuries and this isn’t the best start.
The doorbell rings and I drag my attention from the half empty bottle of Crown Royal on the coffee table. One more thing I shouldn’t be doing. I stand up, trying my best to balance on these fucking crutches, and realize just how drunk I am.
I swing the door open and come face to face with Lincoln. She’s staring at me like I’m broken. Like I’m a wounded animal that she’s scooped up off the side of the road.
“Colson…”
I stumble backward trying to catch my crutch before it crashes against the hardwood.
“Shit,” I huff.
“Here, let me get it,” she offers, picking the crutch up and leveling me with a glare. “Why are you ignoring Reiss?”
“Because I don’t want to talk.”
She presses her lips into a fine line, “Okay, well why are you ignoring me?”
I shake my head, “Because I don’t know how to talk to you anymore, Linc.”
