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Linc....

Lincoln

It’s the best thing. Until we can have a conversation with Reiss and get everything out in the open, I think it’s best if we keep things racing only.

Colson

He’s going to be pissed that I lied to him, I don’t think any of this isgoing to end well.

Lincoln

He’ll understand why you didn’t tell him but after the way he acted tonight I don’t know if he will be okay with it.

Colson

I don’t know what to do.

Lincoln

What do you want to do?

Colson

I want to come over and kiss you.

The three little dots appear and then disappear several times before vanishing permanently. Part of me wants to call the whole thing off, tell everyone I’m having surgery in three weeks and say fuck racing all together. The other, more fucked up part of me wants to do whatever it takes to keep this supercross dream alive. For my future, for Lincoln, for my dad. I groan, flipping over to his messages.

Dad

I found the other parts you needed. I’m driving to South Carolina to pick one up and the other will be delivered tomorrow.

Colson

Thanks

His interest in my racing career has always been minimal but I won’t lie and say it hasn’t been nice having him show a sliver of interest in it this week. It may not be an interest in me personally but it’s a step.

I walk into the shop and chat with Ryan about the bike and when all the parts are on, I go out and test it out. Itruns great and it’s fucking fast, but nothing that Lincoln can’t handle.

“How does it run?” Ryan asks. “Looks like it rips.”

I laugh, “Yeah, it’s fuckin’ gnarly. I can’t believe we got it together in time.”

“We?” he says, his voice going up an octave. “You did that all by yourself. Don’t get me wrong, I think you could’ve placed on one of these bikes without a rebuild but it didn’t hurt anything.”

He’s probably right but honestly, rebuilding the bike was fun. I genuinely liked doing it and the challenge of it was something new. I think it was a nice change from racing. Especially since working on the bike didn’t hurt my leg.

Which still fucking hurts, like all the time, and I can tell it’s getting worse. The lurking surgery that’s scheduled right after Nationals makes me extremely nervous though. I had anxiety the first time but nothing like I’m having now. It seems like the stakes are higher and I am constantly kicking myself in the ass for not taking care of everything after the first go around. I constantly worry that I won’t be able to walk after it is all said and done.

I had trouble walking after my first surgery but I pushed through the pain and fucked off at physical therapy so I could get right back on the bike. Wanting to do anything I could to contribute to Bane Racing.

I know that Lincoln wants to help me go pro but I’m starting to wonder if my place at Bane Racing might be behind a wrench instead of behind the handlebars. Even though the only future I’ve ever daydreamed about was supercross, and Lincoln and me having kids one day in the future.

For the next two weeks, Lincoln and I barely speak. A stray text here and there, a few words at the track. It’s not because we don’t want to but we both know if Reiss finds out before I have the chance to talk to him about the idea of us then it’s going to be a whole lot worse than the blow up in the shop a couple weeks ago.

“Are you almost ready to go?” Dad asks as he throws the last of my things into the trailer. “I grabbed that toolbox out of the shop you wanted.”

“Yeah,” I nod. “Is everyone else all set?”