Page 71 of Just Shred

“Why do you keep pushing us away?” he asks, following me to the front door, while I shrug on my jacket. I can’t find my scarf in the massive pile, so whatever, screw it. I’m going to do what I’ve always done when things get rough; I bail out and bounce.

“Because I’m angry, Layne, that’s why,” I bite out. “I’m a screw up. My business is fucking tanking. And I spent the last years on the run from this,” I yell, flapping my hands around.

“You didn’t screw up. We are all trying here, Ace. But you keep holding on to Ronnie, like he’s dragging you ten feet under the damn snow,” he growls, following me outside and down the steps.

“Don’t, Layne, I love you, but do not fucking go there,” I tell him, not bothering to turn around. Walking to a couple of cars parked in the driveway, he follows me. “What are you still doing here in Aspen, after all those years?” I ask, turning around. “I thought you wanted to travel the world to shoot pictures of the riders, but you’re still here.”

“Yeah, I’m still here, and it was my choice. Mine!” he shouts. “Me and Angie would have never gotten together if I had run away.”

“Is that what Dad wanted, or you?” I ask, pushing a finger into his chest. “The company always came first, didn’t it? Even when he was still alive. If he hadn’t—” I bite on my lip.

“If he what?” he asks, pushing his hands down in the pockets of his jacket.

“If it wasn’t for Dad, none of this would have happened. He was supposed to go up on that mountain with Ronnie instead of me, but he had to take a meeting about some new investment venture. If Dad would have gone with him, nothing would have happened,” I tell him, my voice faltering.

“Is that what you really believe, sis?” he asks, following me to a row of trucks. “If you do, then you’re even more fucked up than I thought.”

“Fuck you,” I return, pushing him back a couple of steps.

“Lem, come on, wait up, I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, his voice cracking.

“How did you mean it, then? Huh? Tell me.”

“You need to let him go. Running away like you did is killing Mom and Dad. They love you, and you only visit us during Christmas, and even then, you’re not really here. You haven’t been back for a long time. You never smile anymore. The only time I’ve seen you happy has been when you’re with Jesse. Give him a chance, Ace,” he pleads.

“I wasn’t. I don’t know where I’m going. He can’t, I’m—” I begin, but I can’t finish my sentence. I can’t tell my brother I’m afraid, afraid to let anyone in. Once you do, you can lose them in the blink of an eye.

“You have to stop blaming yourself.”

“I can’t,” I scream in his face, and I know by the look in his eyes, I’m hurting him, like I’ve been hurting myself all these years, but I don’t care.

“You weren’t there, Layne, and neither was Dad.”

“We know. Fuck, we know that, Acie, Dad still blames himself for not being there. Has he ever told you that?” he asks, his eyes misting with tears.

“Can you just leave me alone and let my fucked up life play out the way it’s supposed to.” I press. “You can’t swoop in and save me, bro. No one can. Not even Jesse.”

“The kid deserves a fair shot. Jesse is one of our best riders,” he grumbles, running both his hands through his long hair.

“So it’s in the best interest of the company I keep him satisfied?” I chuckle, sarcasm ringing through my voice.

“Fuck, that’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Damn it, Layne.” I turn around and the sound of the party echoes across the lawn, then fades away while I pace around.

“It’s just fun, nothing else. It’s not gonna go anywhere,” I mumble, not believing a single word I’m trying to spin to convince myself I don’t need anyone.

When I turn around again, Jesse is standing next to his truck, clutching my scarf in his fist.

Shaking his head, he pushes the scarf in my hands and heads to his truck.

“Jess, please wait,” I plead.

He shakes his head, not saying anything.

“Fuck,” I swear, going after him. I don’t look back when my brother calls my name.

Jesse gets in and backs his truck out of his parking spot. I run to the car and slam my hands on the hood. “Wait, Jesse, please,” I beg, watching my brother head back inside.

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