Page 15 of Burnout
“Thanks,” I say, accepting it.
He takes a drink from his bottle as he studies my movements. “I can remember the old man out here working on our bikes or messing with his motorcycle. Remember that four-wheeler he built?”
I grunt my acknowledgement.
“He was good with motors. So are you.”
Being compared to my dad, even for something positive, makes me want to burn the whole garage down and stomp on the ashes.
But fuck him, he doesn’t get to take this from me. His blood might run through my veins, but everything I have is because of my hard work.
“So, what’s the plan? Do you have more people to contact tomorrow or are you going to try to get Mike to change his mind?” Hendrick asks, sitting on the weight bench situated in the corner of the garage.
“I pretty much called everyone already,” I admit without looking up at him. “And Mike made it clear that they weren’t going to change their mind.”
“Did you tell him what Link said before the race? He was trying to take you out.”
“It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything.”
“How do you know if you don’t tell him? Mike is a decent guy. If he knew the whole story?—”
“Drop it, okay?” Mike knows that the accident was Link’s fault. Everyone there knew it. They chalked it up to him being a young, hungry rider.
He looks like he wants to push but he doesn’t. Instead, he blows out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “I could ask my old agent if he has any ideas.”
I consider his offer. Hendrick played pro football for a while, but it’s been more than a year since he parted ways with his agent, and I doubt they keep in touch.
“Nah, that’s all right.” I don’t want anyone pulling strings for me. I want to earn this on my own. I crack open the beer and take a drink, then set it on the ground so I can go back to working on my bike.
“I could take Flynn to school again tomorrow, so you have time to figure it out.”
“I got him.”
“All right, well I can pick him up then.”
“No, it’s cool.” It’s not like I have a lot else to do. Work out, train, and try to figure out how I’m going to manage everything on my own next season.
Hen laughs, drawing my attention away from my bike. His eyes are lit with amusement and his lips curve into a smirk.
“What?” I ask, lifting one brow in challenge.
“You’re the stubbornest person I’ve ever met. You don’t want anyone else to help with Flynn or pay for shit or make dinner or call in favors.”
I stare at him, waiting for the reason that’s bad. I like to do things on my own, why does that make me stubborn?
“We want to help,” Hendrick says. “You riding again has been fucking awesome for all of us. You’re an inspiration. Especially to Flynn.”
I want to roll my eyes or tell him their help isn’t necessary, but something in my brother’s expression stops me. He levels me with a deep, worried look. “Let us fucking help. You’re not in this alone. I’m sorry that so much responsibility fell on you when Dad took off and I was gone, but I’m back now, Archerand Brogan are pitching in more, and Flynn would do anything to see you succeed. You’re his fucking hero, so start acting like it instead of pretending your dreams are secondary. It’s important for him to see you go after what you want.”
His words linger between us for a few quiet moments, then one side of my mouth quirks up. “Damn, Henny. When did you turn into a motivational speaker?”
“Did it work?” he asks, grinning and taking another drink.
“If there were any other options, then yeah, maybe, but I don’t think there are.” I understand what he’s saying, but I don’t see a way to fix this.
He nods slowly.
“I saw Colter last weekend and some of the local guys. I’ll ride with them and on my own, do what I can.” I shrug one shoulder.
