Page 26 of When We Were Reckless
He slung his arm around her shoulder and leaned around her to speak to me. “Shy made the dinner.” I heard the pride in his voice.
“Then I know it will be amazing.”
“I made red beans and rice especially for you. And a big salad,” she said with a smile as she dished up some food for me. She wore a loose black tank top that exposed the tattoos on her left arm, her black hair in a messy topknot, and no makeup. But even so, she had an aura about her, like you could tell she had star quality.
Shiloh was the whole package. Gorgeous, sexy, edgy, and a good person. Brody had lucked out when he’d met her. Not that their road to true love had been smooth, but they’d made it now. They’d reconciled the night before Ridge’s high school graduation, and Shiloh was taking a break from touring to work on her next album.
“Thank you,” I said when she set the plate in front of me. It was a Brody-sized portion—double the amount of what I’d typically eat for dinner.
“You don’t have to serve everyone,” Brody grumbled.
She arched her brows. “You don’t complain when I serve you, Cowboy.”
“Because you’re mine. And don’t you forget it.”
“You’re so bad at sharing. You need to work on that,” Shiloh teased.
“Bad enough I have to share you with the whole fucking world. I’m not gonna share you with my family too.”
She just laughed like she found his jealousy adorable. I wonder if she’d told him that she hooked me up with concert tickets and backstage passes in April. The concert was at the Staples Center in L.A., the final show of her world tour. I’d been a fucking mess, and she hadn’t been much better, but when she’d been up on that stage, you never would have guessed she was having personal problems.
Fake it ‘til you make it, she’d said after the concert when I’d asked her how she was holding up.
No sooner had I taken a few bites of food when my dad spoke. “So when were you planning to tell us you were walking away? I didn’t raise quitters.”
“Oh hell, here we go,” Brody said with a loud sigh.
Not like I hadn’t been expecting this. Growing up, my two older brothers, my cousin Brody, and I had heard those words more times than I could count. It was why I’d been avoiding Sunday family dinners. I wasn’t ready to explain my actions. Maybe I never would be.
“Patrick,” my mother said sternly, a warning in her voice. “Let’s just enjoy a nice family dinner.”
“Did you know he was planning to retire? Did he discuss this with you?” he asked my mom.
My mother pursed her lips. “I’m sure Jesse had his reasons.” She gave me a little smile, trying to be supportive. Unlike my old man, my mom loved us unconditionally. “You’ve had so many injuries. I, for one, am relieved you won’t be racing anymore. It’s such a dangerous sport.”
As the youngest of four—Brody was my cousin, but he’d lived with us since I was three—my mom had always treated me like the baby of the family. At twenty-seven, that still hadn’t changed.
When I was seven, my dad asked me what sport I wanted to do. I was obsessed with motorcycles, so motocross seemed like the obvious choice. I’d also wanted something that would set me apart from my older siblings. Jude was the football god, Gideon had a genius IQ, and Brody was the rodeo king.
As a kid, I’d been a show-off and a daredevil. But my mom hadn’t been too happy about the sport I’d chosen, and my dad had had to fight tooth and nail to let her ‘baby’ compete in motocross.
So far, she was the only person happy about my retirement.
“You can’t up and retire at twenty-seven,” my dad said. “And you sure as hell can’t do it after a losing streak. Makes it look like you’re giving up. You need to get back out there and show them what you can do.”
I gritted my teeth and took deep, steadying breaths, trying my damnedest to let his words slide off my back. In the past, I’d never had any trouble doing that. But now, he was rubbing salt in an open wound. “Thanks for the advice. Appreciate it. But I’m done. It’s over. And now I’m just looking to move on.” I took another bite of food, hoping he would just drop the subject.
“This is delicious, by the way,” I told Shiloh.
She smiled and gave my arm a little squeeze. “Thanks, Jesse.”
“Move on to what?” my dad asked, picking up right where we’d left off. Should have known he wouldn’t give up so easily. “Have you got a backup plan? I hear you’re serving beer now. So is this what you’re planning to do? Be a bartender? After I spent all those years lugging that damn bike around to every race? After I spent all that money getting you the best coaching and—”
I cut him off before he could say more. “I’m happy to pay you back for your investment in my career.” I held his gaze, trying my best not to lose my shit at a family dinner. I’d never been a hothead. Had never been the fighter in the family. I’d left that to Jude and Brody. But this past year had turned me into someone I barely recognized. So if my dad pushed me too far, Iwouldfucking lose it. “Just tell me how much I owe you, and I’ll deposit it into your account.”
My dad’s jaw clenched. “This isn’t about the money. I don’t want your damn money. This is about you.”
“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” That should have been the end of it, but unfortunately, my dad couldn’t let this rest.
