Page 8 of When We Were Reckless
I’d dug my own grave.
I’d been fucked, literally and figuratively and in every way imaginable.
When you play with fire, you get burned, and I’d been the arsonist. I’d thrown the lit match on the gasoline, and then I stood back and watched my life burn to the ground.
I’d never been one to do anything half-assed. Why start now?
And all because I’d chosen the wrong girl. I’d been naïve and foolish enough to believe that she was my one true love, and I’d turned a blind eye to her flaws and insecurities. I thought that by giving it my all, by loving her with every cell in my body, that would be enough for her. But with Alessia, you could move mountains for her, and it still wouldn’t be enough.
Fuck her. Fuck love. Never again would I put my heart on the line only to have it stomped on.
I accelerated into the turn, my leg nearly brushing the tarmac as I leaned into the road. My Kawasaki Ninja ate up the miles, the scenery passing in a blur. The hangover I’d woken up with was all but gone, cured by the rush of adrenaline.
* * *
When I returned from my morning ride, my brother Jude was waiting for me. He was sitting on the deck with his feet propped on the wood railing, the sun on his face. I sat in the lounge chair next to him, set my helmet on the ground, and took the cup of coffee he handed me, jerking my chin in a silent thank you.
“You wanna talk about it?”
I ran my hand through my sweaty hair and stared at the dirt trails that cut through the trees. “Nope.”
He scrubbed a hand over the dark stubble on his jaw, contemplating my answer, then nodded and took a sip of his coffee. We sat in silence, drinking our coffee while we soaked up the morning sun that filtered through the trees.
When I was a kid, I’d always said I wanted to live in a treehouse. Now I had my very own. I had a garage filled with toys—dirt bikes, mountain bikes, my Kawasaki, an ATV. I’d gotten to the top of my profession. Number Fucking One. I’d even been featured on the back of a Wheaties box.
But nobody ever warned you how hard the fall was from the top.
“Shouldn’t you be working? Or with the kids?” Hard to believe Jude had three kids now. But after a rocky road back to the love of his life, he was working on making all his dreams come true.
“Yes, to both.”
I took a sip of my coffee. “Then why are you here?”
“The kids are with Lila. The work will always be there. But you’re not doing so great. And if there’s anything I can do to fix this, say the fucking word, and I’ll do whatever it takes.”
And that was the thing about Jude. His words weren’t empty. He really meant them, and he would do anything it took to fix things for the people he loved.
“Not even you can fix this.”
“We’re all worried about you.”
“Don’t be. I’m fine.”
“Those words should be outlawed.”
A laugh escaped me. “Outlawed? Are we in the Wild West now, Sheriff?”
He snorted. “Whenever I used to say I was fine, Lila wouldn’t rest until she got to the bottom of it. So I stopped saying those words a while back. Especially when I was anything but fine.”
“What you went through is way worse than anything I could ever imagine. I haven’t just come back from a combat zone. I retired from a sport. It’s not the end of the world. It’s what I want.”
“I call bullshit.”
“Call it whatever you want. It’s the truth.”
“Does this have anything to do with breaking your back?”
“Not really.” It did, and it didn’t. It certainly hadn’t helped matters. I squinted at the view in front of me. “This past season, I struggled mentally. Like, I really struggled. I had to push myself to get through every race. And it showed. I don’t have what it takes to be a champion anymore.”
