Page 9 of When We Were Reckless
As much as it pained me to admit it, all of what I’d just told Jude was the truth. Not the whole truth. But it was a big part of my decision to retire. I’d saved face by ‘leaving gracefully’ rather than having the team publicly announce that they’d fired me.
Maybe I could have tried harder to find another team. But after I talked to two other teams, and they hemmed and hawed rather than jumping at the chance to add me to their roster as they would have in the past, I knew. Word had traveled.
“I always thought that if,whenI finally retired, I’d go out when I was still on top. But life doesn’t always go according to plan.”
Jude didn’t respond. I could tell he was puzzling over something in his brain, trying to put the pieces of my story together. And I knew he’d figure out that some parts of the puzzle were missing.
My eldest brother was sharp. Nothing got past him. He’d always been my hero, the guy I looked up to as a kid. I used to worship the ground he walked on. Used to confide all my hopes and fears and dreams to him. But now, my pride wouldn’t allow me to admit how epically I’d failed. How badly I’d fucked up.
“When you’re ready to tell me what happened, you know where to find me.” With those words, he stood up from his chair, bumped his fist against mine, and strode away.
When the sound of his footsteps faded, I sank back in my seat and finished my coffee.
Who was I now, and what the hell was I going to do with the rest of my life?
For twenty years, moto had been my life, the only thing I knew. My passion. My dream. And now… I just felt so fucking empty.
I had no goals. No dreams. Nothing to work toward. I’d sacrificed so much, had worked so hard, and stayed so focused on my career. I’d sustained injury after injury and had ridden through the pain. But the physical pain paled in comparison to this feeling that I had nothing left to strive for.
Even worse than that, the team owners had questioned my good judgment and character.
All my life, I’d tried to do the right things and adhere to a strict moral code. I’d built my reputation on being honest and loyal with a strong work ethic. A true champion in every sense of the word, reporters had always said.
Whenever I lost, I did it gracefully. I was never the guy who lost his temper or stirred up shit with the competitors. Instead, I went home and licked my wounds in private.
So it was shocking how quickly I’d destroyed years of hard work. What’s more, I had nobody to blame except myself.
I slid my ringing phone out of my pocket and stared at the name on the screen. Guilt slammed into me. Fuck. I’d been such an asshole last night. I’d treated her like shit. The last person who deserved it. My sunshine girl.
I answered the call. “Hey. What’s up?”
“I know you hate being idle, so I’ve got a job for you,” Mason said, making it sound like he was doing me a big favor.
“What kind of job?”
“You are part owner, in case you forgot. I could use your help this summer.”
“With what, exactly?” I’d only invested in the brewing company because Mason and Holden were my oldest friends. The brewery had been their dream, not mine.
“You need something to do this summer. And I could use the extra help.”
“Is business doing okay?”
“It would be better if the moto legend was behind the bar.” He was joking, but every muscle in my body tensed. I rolled out my shoulders and tried to shake it off.
“Sorry to burst your bubble, I’m a has-been. Putting me behind the bar won’t help your business.”
“First of all, I don’t know what the fuck happened because you’re not talking. Second of all, I’m not even going to acknowledge that bullshit coming out of your mouth. Third, you can’t see me, but I’m over here playing the world’s tiniest violin.”
I laughed and scrubbed my hand over my face. You could always count on Mason to call you out on your bullshit.
“Are we done with the pity party yet?”
“We’re done. I’ll continue the pity party for one after we hang up.”
“Shit, man. If you want to talk—
“Nah. I’m good.” I wasn’t good, but he didn’t need to deal with my shit. Self-pity was for losers, as my dad had drummed into my head all my life. “It’ll just take some time to adjust.”
