Racing to Love: Eli's Honor

by Amy Gregory

  One eyebrow rose as he drew in a slow breath out of exasperation. Taking a moment to remember where her heart lay, he gave up the sternness he was attempting and snorted. “Okay. One time I’ve told you no, you shit. And I haven’t said no, per se. I’ve said there’s nothing more they can do. So even that doesn’t count…brat.” Eli chuckled.

  “Uncle E.” The giggling little girl returned, ending their conversation. “I got cookies, Uncle E.” Little Alex held up the bulging sandwich bag, proudly showing her uncle the booty she’d claimed from her grandma’s kitchen.

  He had never been so happy to see a cookie in his life. Sure, he was hungry, and the round oatmeal chocolate chip pieces of heaven that Karen baked were legendary, but he knew Molly would remain tightlipped around the kids. The kids knew his back hurt some days, and that he had “owies,” as they called them. All the guys had scars, here and there, from one accident or another—it was just part of racing. His weren’t drastically worse and didn’t seem to scare either of the little ones, but the details were left unspoken.

  Eli patted his thigh. “You crawl up here on my lap, and I’ll share with you, baby girl.”

  Alex took in the tilt to her mother’s head and looked up to her uncle to help her. Eli grinned and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “She can have a cookie, D. I said she could.”

  Molly rolled her eyes. “See. You spoil them.”

  Eli wiggled his eyebrows at Molly. “It’s my job.”

  “And you’ve perfected it, E.” Molly laughed with her tongue in her cheek.

  “Sissy.” The little man walked through the open door of the academy as if he owned the joint.

  Eli looked over his shoulder then back at Molly. The two shared a grin between before he caught them. Jack was such an old soul, quiet and sure. But it was the manner in which he emulated the adults in his life that Eli found so humorous, picking up certain traits, habits, and mannerisms from each of them and mimicking them to perfection. He walked around the desk to his mother’s outstretched arms.

  “Hey, buddy.” Molly hugged the spitting image of herself. “Where have you been?”

  Without answering, he turned to his sister. “Daddy said for you and me to get geared up. It’s our turn on the track.”

  “Are they pulling the big kids off for a break?” Molly looked at Jack, then up at the clock on the wall.

  “Yep.”

  Eli nodded at the little boy, deliberately making his tone more serious and speaking to him man-to-man. “Chance going to ride with you?”

  “Yep.”

  “Well, go get your gear, you two. Uncle E and I will help you put it on, and then we’ll come watch.” Molly smiled at the two children.

  “’Kay.” Jack nodded and walked back out the door and toward the shop.

  “You can eat the rest of this, Uncle E.”

  Alex scrambled after her brother, leaving the half-eaten oatmeal chocolate chip cookie on Eli’s leg. Without thinking anything of it, he chuckled, popped it in his mouth, and wiped the remaining crumbs off his jeans.

  He saw the way Molly watched as the kids walked away. The worry clouding across her face over a subject he’d tried to calm her down about many times.

  “You know why he doesn’t talk much?”

  Molly rolled her eyes again, “I suppose you’re going to blame it on Alex like Carter does. She does talk enough for both of them, but still I worry. He just doesn’t say much.”

  “Na, that’s not it. He’s just a little man. Those two—well, and Chance too for that matter—they’re around adults and teenagers all day long. They’re treated like little people, not bratty little children. I’ve been around my other nieces and nephew, and I can’t handle it. They’re freaking obnoxious, bouncing off the walls, acting like morons.

  “Alex and Jack are cool little kids. We talk to them as if they’re our equals. We’re all guilty of it. Listen to Joey and Emery some time while they’re working on bikes. They treat them like just another set of hands, there’s no sweet baby talk. They’re just like one of us. Jackson is just a guy. A little one, but a guy nonetheless. He doesn’t need to say much.”

  “He talks fine, Mol. His speech is fine. He is just an observer. He speaks when he needs to. You’ll see, he’ll be one of those guys that when he does speak, people will listen. Because whatever he has to say…will be important. Mark my word.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Honor Graham pulled open the glass front door of the bike shop, making the small silver and gold bells jingle above her head. She moved through the storefront with a quiet grace that years of ballet left behind as a permanent mark. Passing by the hanging racks of riding pants and jerseys and continuing beyond the clear shelves lined with colorful helmets, her destination was clear. Instead of pouncing on her, the sales guys nodded or waved their hellos as she quietly made her way past them to the parts counter at the back of the building.

  She stood patiently waiting for the burly, six-foot-five, bald giant behind the counter to finish with the handsome dark-headed man in a suit who he was helping. The other two men behind the counter made eye contact, and she offered a simple shy grin, nothing else. Both answered—one with a wink, the other a toothy smile—but both left her alone. She pretended to flatten a non-existent wrinkle in her shirt, then straightened a shelf near her, lining the goggle boxes back up perfectly while waiting until her giant was free.

  Biting her lip, she tried not to snicker at the very basic information the handsome suit was given. When he turned to leave, he flashed Honor his expensive smile. Poor sap, it was wasted on her. She smiled back timidly for less than a second before diverting her gaze behind him to the muscled man at the counter.

  “There’s my girl.” The volume of Mac’s greeting a level higher than necessary.

  Mac’s voice was sweet enough to welcome her, but Honor knew the steel beneath it was meant to keep the suit moving.

  “Hey, Mac.” She replied, her smile and warmth genuine, her voice friendly but quiet.

  The suit looked at Mac for a long minute before glancing back to Honor with a raised eyebrow. He shrugged and walked past her toward the front doors. He could keep on walking as far as she was concerned.

  “Sorry about that. Damn yuppies—have a mid-life crisis, buy a bike, and then they don’t know what to do with it once they get it home. He should have stuck with a convertible or a twenty-something skirt. Hell, that guy should’ve done both. His lack of knowledge of a bike is going to wind up getting him killed. And it beats the hell out of me how he was able to acquire the license in the first place.”

  Honor reached out to pat his thick muscled and tattooed forearm with a gentle grin fixed on her lips. “It’s okay. Did you get my oil yet or do I need to have one of the guys put it in the computer first?” She asked, but was barely audible.

  “I’ve got it right here, darlin’, but I’ll come by after work and do it.”

  Damn it.

  She had known what Mac’s answer would be, and it wasn’t due to predictability as much as it was the same line he’d tossed to her so many times it was breaking her heart.

  “I can change the oil, Mac. I know enough to do that much by myself. I don’t want to bother you with the easy stuff.” She said firmly, but her volume low, not wanting to turn the attention of the other two men.

  “Honor, I know you can. I just need to check a couple of things out.”

  Shit. Why now?

  She knew exactly what he wasn’t saying.

  Mac let out a defeated breath. “That boy has grown three inches in the last couple of months, I swear. I just want to check—“

  He must have been able to read her face because his words halted momentarily when she dropped eye contact. She wasn’t near as good at hiding her emotions as she used to be. She was just too worn out, and the extra effort it took to put up the happy front was too hard to do anymore. That exertion was only made for one man in her life, and for the time being, he was still at school. />
  Honor titled her chin back up, her brow furrowed, ready for the words she knew were coming.

  “I’m sorry, Honor. His suspension, I’ve got to. We may have to redo it again, sugar. But I can do it. No big deal.”

  No big deal?

  In her book, tires were a big deal. The suspension, that was beyond a big deal and it was so not in the budget this month. She had been hoping to make it at least another three months before they had to adjust it again. It made her sick to think of needing a whole new bike. But that’s where she finally was—he was aging out of his bracket and needed the next bike up. And he was going to need seat time on it before he jumped into racing it. At the rate she was going, she might be able to swing it by next February, if she watched every penny.

  Damn. Damn...damn it.

  She shut her eyes for a quick second to keep the tears at bay. Gritting her teeth, she felt her heart pound hard a couple of times before she opened her eyes. “I know, Mac. I appreciate it. Let me know what the parts will cost.” She replied, barely able to the keep the tremble out of her voice.

  Mac looked over his shoulder at the two younger men working behind the counter with him. “Hey, give me a second, will you? I’ll be right back.” Without waiting for their approval, he moved from behind the counter and took Honor’s hand in his, pulling her to follow him to a quiet corner of the shop.

  Standing amongst t-shirts and backpacks, Mac looked nervous. Honor’s stomach dropped, not prepared for any more bad news. Her shoulders sagged as she waited, half wanting him to spit it out, half wanting to walk out without hearing so she could pretend nothing else was wrong.

  “Honor, I, eh…ah…I.” He rubbed his bald head.

  Her anxiety level had already been ratcheted up several notches, but now it was about to shoot through the roof. He obviously didn’t know how to start the conversation, and that was never a good sign. Mac may have towered over her by a good foot, but they both knew he had nothing on her temper when she felt backed into a corner. Honor braced herself, dreading that it may end up being one of those times.

  “I, um, I made a couple of calls, Honor.”

  “Mackenzie Graham.” Her hands flew to her hips, her mouth left open at the shock of his words. Her voice carried through the bike shop much louder than she had intended, and she looked around her then locked her gaze back on Mac. “You did not.” Her voice lowered.

  “I’m sorry, sugar. I had to.”

  She wanted to be furious, but the sympathy in his eyes hit her hard. “Damn it, Mac. I can do this.”

  It was a lie, and they both knew it. Ability, knowledge, and desire had nothing to do with the equation as much as the damn answer always boiled down to money, and her lack of it.

  “No, Honor…you can’t. Not anymore. It’s killing you.” He rubbed his thumb gently across the soft skin under her eyes. “I can see the purple shadows under your eyes getting darker and darker each month. You’ve lost even more weight, weight you didn’t have to lose in the first place. And that bubbly, fun personality I loved…it’s gone. So, no. You can’t do it alone, not anymore.”

  “I’m not alone, I have you.” The admission came out as a whisper.

  Honor had been on her own for years. Her father had disappeared the minute the stick turned blue. Single and alone, her mother had raised Honor with hard love and a deep-rooted belief to never need a man. The result—her independent streak was a mile wide. Leaning on Mac was one of the most difficult things she’d ever had to do. She was closer to her brother-in-law than most blood-related siblings. Able to read his gray eyes, the nuances of his facial expressions, she could read the fear in them. She dropped her head and felt him pull her close, leaning her forehead against his strong chest, his big arms engulfing her slight frame. Honor knew that her scarcely audible answer told him more than a screaming hour-long speech could any day. She knew the fact that her temper was just a flash of what it used to be scared the hell out of him.

  Honor realized she was just a hollow shell of her former self. Brought up with a deep-seated passion never to hate another person, she had to go against her mother’s wishes…because she did. She hated Kolby. The guilt turned in her stomach. It was against some higher-level law that forbids hating the deceased, but she did. She hated what he’d done to her and what he took away from their son, Dallas.

  “Exactly. You have me. And I’m helping you the best way I know how. I made the calls.”

  She felt his palms rubbing her back. His two hands spread covered the entire span of it. She turned her head and laid her cheek against his heart, listening to the calming beat.

  “I know that brother of mine was an ass. A careless, reckless fuck that treated you like shit and left you high and dry to fend for yourself and my nephew. He was a damn idiot and did stupid shit, and that’s how he got himself killed. Only a dumbass rides a crotch rocket going a hundred and ten miles per hour. A stupid fuck does it drunk.

  “But…I’m not him, Honor. You can count on me. You know that. And Dallas isn’t Kolby either.” Mac pulled her to arm’s length. “But Dallas is a racer. One that can make it to the top. I know it. I feel it. He needs to race—he loves it with every fiber of his being. I know it scares the hell out of you, but I watch him race, and he rides smart. He can read terrain like no one I’ve ever known. He’s going to be somebody. He’s going to make it to the pros, Honor. We just have to help him. I had to make the calls, sugar, and I found someone who can help us.”

  “I can’t afford it. I can’t afford to send him to private training somewhere. And he’s not old enough to garner a contract yet. We just need to hang on a couple more years.” When she would have pulled away, Mac kept her close. She dropped her gaze, studying the buttons of his uniform shirt.

  “He doesn’t have a couple more years, Honor. If we can’t afford to get him to the right races and keep him on a competitive bike, he doesn’t have a chance. This could be that chance.”

  “I can’t afford it, Mac. How many other ways can I say it? It kills me. Don’t you think I want to give Dallas everything? He deserves it, but I’m doing the best I can,” she said into his shirt, the fabric muffling her words.

  “That’s why I called the Nolands.”

  She whipped her chin up, her eyes locked on his. “The Nolands? Shit! You know damn well I can’t afford that school. It’s the best in the country, Mac. They have multiple pro riders who do the training and their own mechanics. I’m not even in the same league as those people.”

  “They don’t publicize it, but they offer some scholarship spots.”

  “Even with a scholarship, I couldn’t pay the difference. That school costs thousands and even more thousands depending on how long the kid is there. I know. I checked into it before Kolby died—back when Dallas really was starting to make people sit up and take notice of him. I can’t afford it.”

  “I talked to Molly Sterling.”

  Mac grinned slightly as he shut her jaw with the tip of his finger.

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “I also told her how Dallas has always idolized Eli Hunter. And the other guys, but there was always something about Hunter.”

  “I know,” she admitted. “He’s got more posters than I can count hanging on his bedroom walls and our shop walls to prove it.” Honor let out a breath and rolled her eyes. “So…you really, like really actually talked to Molly? Herself? Not just some assistant?”

  “Nope, it was Molly. I could even hear her kids in the background, and guys hollering back and forth and such. It seems really laid back. She had me email his stats to her and his resume. She’s supposed to call Friday and let me know more.”

  “Molly Sterling.” Honor buried her face in Mac’s chest again. “I can’t send my baby to Pennsylvania by himself. You and Dallas are all I have left in the world. I can’t be away from him that long. He’s only eleven, Mac.”

  “We’ll work it out if they call back, okay? Just promise me one thing, Honor. Please?” He tipped her chin up to meet him
eye-to-eye once again. “You’ll really consider this if it’s a possibility. Please don’t dismiss it right away or let pride get in the way. Or…for that matter—fear. I know it’s a scary sport, I know how upset he was when Hunter got hurt. Dallas knows the risks. That doesn’t curb his passion any. Please just stay open-minded…for Dallas?”

  Honor didn’t have the strength to fight anymore. She nodded, letting Mac’s arms envelop her once more.

  ****

  Honor pulled her black ’69 Chevy Camaro into the garage and turned the key off. As far as possessions went, it was her one true pride and joy. It had been her uncle’s, painfully and lovingly restored to perfection. Her mother’s younger brother by eight years, Travis and Honor had been more like friends than uncle and niece, even closer after her mother’s death years before.

  Travis had laid the keys in her hand and closed her fingers around the playboy bunny keychain. As he told her goodbye, he asked her to take good care of his baby while he was away. She’d begged him not to re-enlist, and missed him terribly when he deployed. To share him for a third tour was more than Honor wanted. It was selfish, but she didn’t care.

  Unfortunately, on his last trip over, he hadn’t been able to keep his promise to return. They gave her a flag and his purple heart nineteen months later. Both were proudly displayed in her small living room.

  Dallas exited the car door and trudged into the house, dropping his backpack in the kitchen. Honor knew he would be in his bedroom half changed before she could even get out of the car with the one bag of groceries she’d stopped for. She shut her own car door and wiped a spot off it with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. Smiling, she took a long look to admire the black beauty, and to remember the uncle she loved so dearly. Her own car sat outside, the Camaro taking precedence in the small one-car garage. Hers was nothing special, but it ran. She only drove Travis’s car once a week to keep it running right, only on the sunniest of days and only when she wasn’t going to be gone long. She also drove it every time she had to meet with Dallas’s school. Something about it gave her the strength to get through yet another meeting.