Page 77 of Send It
A few days have passed and Lincoln and I didn’t ride. We barely spoke. Not because I didn’t want to but because I physically couldn’t be around her and not be affectionate.
“I heard what happened at East Bend,” he says. “I came to see if I could help.”
I stare at him, knowing something is wrong. There’s a reason he’s popped up twice in a couple of weeks when they will usually go months and months with not even a call.
“Why are you here?” I grit. “You don’t just show up for support. What do you want?”
He sits the box down on the slick cement floor next to me but he doesn’t speak and instantly I’m afraid something is wrong.
“Why are you here?” I demand. “Is something wrong with Nana?”
His shoulders are tense, “No. Nana is fine. I just um…”
“Out with it,” I groan. “I don’t have time for this shit. I have to get this bike built.”
“I’m moving home,” he says.
I can’t hide my amusement, laughing at him, “Where exactly is that?”
“Here,” he whispers. “I’m moving here full time.”
“Are you dying?” I ask. “Is mom dying?”
He releases a breath almost annoyed with my questions, “No, Colson. We’re getting a divorce.”
Stunned, I blink rapidly in disbelief, unable to make the words form to speak.
“I wasn’t going to tell you until after Amateur Nationals but…” he trails off, rocking back nervously onto his heels.
“But what? I don’t care.”
My disinterest in his marital problems surprises him, I guess because it’s my own mother, but honestly, I don’t even know them really.
“I deserve that,” he slumps and a ping of guilt surges through my body. I don’t know why but I kind of feel bad for him.
“I’m sorry,” I growl. “What happened?” I ask, causing him to swallow hard, and I’m starting to wonder now if I even want to know.
“Things are just different,” he says and his vague answer kind of pisses me off.
“Okay, well if that’s all you’re giving me you can leave. I’ve got shit to do, I’m twenty years old, not four.”
“I’m just tired,” he exhales. “The job always comes first and I can’t spend another night alone in whatever country she’s dragged me to for a study.”
“She let you drag her around when you raced motocross for ten years,” I argue.
“That was different, Colson. We were traveling together. As a family. Now I don’t see her for weeks at a time and I hardly ever see you.”
I raise my brow, “She cheated didn’t she? Found some fancy billionaire investor to donate to one of her whale studies? Hopped on that dick so fast it made your head spin, didn’t she?”
He smirks at the ground, “I don’t know. She’s just not interested. She doesn’t care if I’m there or not and I’m done missing out on what’s here for being alone there. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize it.”
I feel tears stinging my eyes but refuse to let them fall. He doesn’t get my tears, but I do respect his honesty.
“Open that box and see which parts those are.”
He works quickly using the box cutter to see what’s inside and hands me everything I need to install it. We work together in silence and when we get to a stopping point, he shakes his head with disbelief. “I didn’t know you knew how to do any of that. Most experienced mechanics struggle with it.”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me.”
