Page 68 of Send It
His dad comes walking up behind him and smacks the back of his helmet, “Shut up.”
“Lets take the bikes to a race at East Bend this weekend and give them a good practice race.” Ryan says. “You two both need practice on these bikes before racing them at Nationals.”
The real question is, how to get Lincoln on that bike for practice without anyone knowing.
“Sounds good,” I say, braaping the engine and pulling the bike over to the shop door. When Reiss pulls around and yanks his helmet off, there is a giant grin on his face.
“This bike is fast as fuck,” he says. “I want to tear it apart just to see what they put in this thing.”
“I wanna know how much Bane Racing paid for them,” I add, knowing damn well it was a lot.
Reiss gives me a look that sayscome on. “You know that no expense was spared. Even your dad chipped in.”
My dad bought this bike?
He’s never really shown any interest in my racing career. He had a career ending injury and lost a kidney. Since that day, he hasn’t even set foot at the track. Which is why I joined Bane Racing in the first place. My support system has always been at Bane Racing, never at home.
The fact that he’s forking out cash for race bikes is weird. Maybe it’s hush money. Feeling guilty for all the time he was never around. I don’t know.
“You didn’t really ride out there like you normally do. You going to be okay?” he asks.
I sigh, “Yeah. I’m just gonna get out there and ride. I’ve been doing this so long I’m gonna have to trust that my body knows what to do.”
“You sound like you are about to go roll out your yoga mat.”
“Shut the fuck up. You literally take gymnastics.”
He shrugs, “That shit really helps my balance.”
“Yoga helps my mind.” I growl. I’ve only been a few times, but I did like it. It is a good way to get my mind off things.
“We need to focus on our strength training.”
I roll my eyes, “Speak for yourself. I’ve been at the gym every morning.”
He glares at me, “Well that’s a fucking lie, unless you are going somewhere else because I’ve been at the gym every morning.”
I groan, “What’s with the grilling? I’ve been using our home gym.”
“You’re just MIA, Colson. In fact the only person you’ve been hanging around with is Lincoln. What’s with that?”
Fuck.
“Nothing. She’s just been around a lot lately. It’s nothing and I’m not MIA. I’m literally here, dude. Maybe you’re the one MIA playing baby daddy with Mira Tate.”
I flip the script and change the subject because the last thing I need is Reiss poking around about Lincoln when Nationals are two weeks away.
I can’t risk him finding out before that gate drops, if so I lose my best friend and Bane Racing.
33
Lincoln
“Are you sure this is going to work?” I ask Colson as I pull on a pair of moto pants over the padded leggings I put on to make my legs look thicker. “Do you think they will notice it’s not you?”
“I hope not,” he says. “Just keep the helmet and the goggles on and don’t speak to anyone. When you come back to the trailer you can change into your regular clothes and I’ll still have this identical race gear on. I’ll wet my hair with a bottle of water so it looks like I’ve been sweating in my helmet.”
I nod, understanding exactly what the plan is and why it’s important that I race today. To see if we can pull it off at Nationals. Colson limps around me inside the enclosed trailer, still refusing to use his crutches, and tilts my head up by my chin. He stares down at me before gently pressing his lips to mine.
