Page 92 of False Start

twenty

“Hustle up,you’ve got hot dates hugging the kick rails today for warm-up!” Priest called out as he tossed pads over the rails into the infield.

He had a spark of energy today I hadn’t seen in him since Lilith spent the night at the hospital. Until spotting him just ten minutes before with more color in his face and those lines bracketing his mouth when he was tense all but gone, I hadn’t realized how much I counted on his mood to set the tone for us.

He’d become a part of us in the few weeks we’d been training. It made me wonder about after. What it would be like to return to the flat track without him.

Maybe as a WRDF team, maybe not. It would be months until we’d hear for sure.

“Sometimes he’s just way too excited about torturing us,” Tilly muttered.

It’s the first thing she’d said to me, really said to me since joining the team. Thirsty didn’t count. I mean, you gave someone water when you cared about them and wanted them to be okay, but you also gave them water when you didn’t want them to die on your watch lest you be accused of their death.

I spun around to look before I actually believed full on that she had directed her comment at me, but everyone had spread out on other benches to gear up, Carmen, Rory, Eve, and Sean stretched on the concrete in the corner.

Marty, the showoff, was already on the bank doing warm-up laps. Must be nice to work at a desk so you could be nice and fresh for practice.

Actually, I’d probably lose my mind behind a desk, so maybe cell deep exhaustion wasn’t so bad.

“Right,” I said quietly, unsure of this treacherous new territory.

Was it fur-lined or wrapped with razor wire?

Were we supposed to become friends now? Again?

How the hell was I supposed to forget all the nasty things she’d said over the years to poke me, prod me, the way she used my mother to torture me?

But how was I supposed to move on if nothing changed?

Here I was, twenty-four and still living in the past. Worse than that, I was trapped in the ninth grade. Who the fuck wanted that bullshit?

“Shit,” Tilly whispered as she dug through her bag furiously.

I didn’t glance over this time and instead kept my focus on padding up. “What’s wrong?”

“One of my wristguards is missing. I have a new puppy and he’s constantly stealing my shit. He’s got a fetish for anything with my dried sweat.”

“Boys are gross.” God, that sounded lame. “You’ve, uh, you’ve always wanted a dog. I think—well, thought. Anyway,” I said with a jerky nod. “Koda, right?”

Christ, this was as stop and go as an old man with a prostate problem trying to take a leak.

“Yeah. And now Koda has one of my wristguards. The furry little freak.”

“I’ve got an extra pair.” I tossed them on the bench next to her and finished strapping on my knee pads.

She half turned. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

We didn’t look at one another, instead, started building some weird tentative bond on water, furry mutts, and sweaty wristguards. We weren’t going to win any awards with our stumbling attempts at coexisting, but maybe I’d get to the point where Tilly wasn’t the first thing I worried about when I got on that track.

And maybe this is what Priest was trying to say.

This was getting in my way…and he could see it.

Well, fine. But I still wanted to bite him.

Especially when he was just as guilty. Only he’d attached some sort of just-trying-to-be-honorable-paying-for-my-mistakes badge on his lack of defense, leaving mine looking like fear.

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