Page 59 of Broken Breath
Qualifies third, above me, as if nothing happened.
I grip my cup tighter. “I’m not bloody obsessed.”
Dad keeps working, but there’s a twitch at the corner of his mouth. “You’re talking an awful lot about that kid for someone who’snotobsessed.” I shoot him a glare, but he doesn’t even blink. Not even a flinch, of course not. “Do you have a crush on him?”
“No.” My face heats immediately. “What the fuck?”
When everything fell apart last year, I came out to my dad like it was part of the wreckage. Figured if he was going to lose everything because of me, he deserved to know all there is to know about me. No secrets. He knows I’m bi, but wedon’ttalk about it. Ever. I’d like for it to stay that way.
And I’m not crushing on Mini Crews. Nuh-uh. Not happening.
“You can tell me. I’m hip,” Dad continues, totally unfazed. “One time when I was younger, before your mom, there was a motocross race, and I got too drunk and…”
“Dad!” I groan, slapping a hand over my face. “I don’t want to hear that.”
“Just saying.” He shrugs. “Whatever floats your boat, son.”
“Crews doesn’t.”
“Okay. Why are you obsessing then? Is it because he punched Delacroix for you?”
“Didn’taskhim to,” I mutter. “And that wasn’t a punch. That was a flailing attempt at violence. He slapped him like someone trying to swat a wasp. He has no idea how to fight.”
“Well, fuck. That makes it even more impressive. Maybe the kid’s never had anyone show him how.”
I huff out something like a laugh. “Yeah, well,youmade sure I knew how to throw a punch by the time I was ten.”
“And look how well that turned out.”
He grins, but I don’t.
“You know,” he adds casually, “I remember whenyouwere a junior, all bright-eyed and mouthy. Used to look up to a certain Crews back then.”
I groan. “Don’t start.”
“Oh, I’m starting. You looked at Dane Crews like he hung the bloody moon.”
“Idid not.”
He gives me a knowing look.
Okay, maybe a little, ’cause yeah, Dane Crewswasmy hero, everyone’s, really. Back when I was in juniors, he wastheguy in downhill mountain biking. Untouchable. Legendary on a bike.
Getting signed to Crews Bikes was the dream, the endgame, the goal I built everything around, until the team imploded before I even got my shot.
“Maybe now you’ve gotyourown fanboy,” Dad suggests. “No harm in that.”
“He’s not a fanboy,” I grumble, frowning into my cup. “He’s kicking my arse. And I just can’t figure out his angle.”
“Why would he need an angle?”
“Why else would he be on my side?”
I don’t say,no one is on my side anymore besidesyou.
Dad shrugs, that kind of shrug that somehow manages to say bothmaybe you’re rightandyou’re being ridiculousin equal measure.
“I don’t know, maybe because being associated with you is such a good look,” he says with a smirk.
