Page 49 of Broken Breath
Another one of his offers.
I hesitate for one shaky breath, but then I take it. His grip is solid as he helps me to my feet, then steps back so I can get to my bike, like it’s nothing to him.
But right now, for me,it’s everything.
I don’t even care that he touched my bike as I swing one leg over with a grunt of pain and no grace or skill, but it doesn’t matter because I manage it.
“Should I call a medic?” Luc asks from somewhere behind me, sounding guilty. “I didn’t mean…fuck. I didn’t see you.”
I don’t answer him.I can’t.
I’m afraid to open my mouth.
Pulling on my helmet, I focus on nothing but forcing my legs to pedal just enough to nudge me into the line of the trail. Every bump brings fresh fire in my hip as I descend slowly, paying no attention as other riders overtake me. When I look back, I’m not surprised to find Mason riding behind me.
Silent support.
The only kind I can handle, apparently.
Every breath is a battle, every pedal a struggle, but I don’t stop.
I make it down the mountain one aching push at a time, and when I finally coast toward the bus, my vision is so blurred and spotty that I can barely see it.
I need ice.
I need pain meds.
And I need to be alone so I can fall apart for real.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Alaina
Only a little over six more weeks.
That’s it.
I just have to make it through five more races, five more podiums, six more weeks of pretending.
Then I’m done.
No more pain. No more pretending.
No more me.
The ceiling of the bus is cracked in one corner, and I count the lines like I haven’t counted them a hundred times before.
One. Two. Three.
I lay flat on the narrow bed, hoodie bunched around my ribs, the bruise on my hip throbbing against the too-thin sheet. The mattress feels like it’s made of plywood, and I can’t get comfortable, never really do.
Two hours later, the painkillers have done their job, and so did the cold shower, which, on this bus, is the only kind of shower. My muscles are quieter now, but the rest of me still screams into the silence that isn’t quiet. It’s loud and roars in my ears, presses into my ribs tighter than thebinder ever could. Every part of me hurts, not only the bruises or the pulled muscles or the aching hip. It’s deeper, in my bones, behind my eyes, somewhere no doctor can reach.
Living like this, in constant fucking pain, physical and mental, it’sunbearable.
I’m tired.
God, I’m so tired.
