Christmas at Mixon
A Motocross Me Short story
By Cheyanne Young
***
Copyright © 2015 Cheyanne Young.
All rights reserved
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the author’s work.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Cheyanne Young
All rights reserved.
First Edition November 25, 2015
Cover image from BigStockPhoto.com
Typography from FontSquirrel.com
Chapter 1
Shelby wraps her hand around a wooden beam that rises from the foundation and leans out, swinging around it with her other arm up in the air. A second later she stumbles away, yanking her hand back and shaking it. “Ow! Stupid thing gave me a splinter.”
“It’s wooden and square,” I say shoving her in the shoulder as we walk through the skeleton of a house. “What did you expect would happen?”
“I was trying to be whimsical,” she says, squinting at her palm. “It’s a beautiful night, after all.”
I step over a bucket full of nails and lean against a two by four that makes up the staircase in the center of the living room in the Carter’s new house. Though it will eventually be a two story, four thousand square foot home, right now it’s just concrete and wooden beams surrounded by patches of grass and pallets of construction materials.
Looking up, I gaze into the starry night sky, still marveling at how beautiful the nights are here in Mixon, Texas where the only light pollution comes from my dad’s motocross track. My breath escapes in puffs of white and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to stay warm in my fleece jacket.
It’s Christmas Eve, the night my family has been preparing for all month. Christmas at Mixon—a fun-filled holiday activity for the whole family! My dad has turned his motocross track into a winter wonderland with Christmas lights strung up all over the place, a fake snow machine for the kids, food venders, hot chocolate, and of course, motocross. The night track is open until midnight with free admission.
Dad even managed to coordinate with the town’s Christmas parade committee so that the annual parade that goes through town will end in the field in front of the motocross track. Sure, it’ll be busy as hell and full of people but Dad swears this will be great for business. The whole staff at the motocross park has been buzzing with excitement all month as we unpacked boxes of decorations and lights, wearing Santa hats and bells around our necks.
Everyone has been psyched for tonight. Everyone but me.
“Shelby . . .” I say, feeling a sudden chill that can’t be warmed with a jacket. All month I’d planned for this event thinking that I’d get to wrap my arms around my boyfriend and watch the parade with him beside me. Now he’s not coming home for the holiday and I can’t find a single strand of Christmas joy anymore. I sigh. “I miss Ash.”
Her gaze turns serious as she turns and sits on an unfinished wooden stair. “I miss him, too. It doesn’t feel like Christmas Eve without him here.”
I sigh. “I wouldn’t know since I didn’t know Ash existed last Christmas.”
“Christmas with my brother is magical,” she says. “He always picks out the best presents for each person in our family and wears his Santa hat as he helps Dad cook the dinner. Then he turns on his hat and hands out presents to everyone. He’s really big into celebrating holidays.”
“Turns on his hat?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow.
“There’s little lights around the white fur part,” she says. “And if you squeeze the pompom on the top, it plays Jingle Bells. I’m telling you, he loves Christmas.”
I smile, picturing Ash wearing a hat like that. The knot in my stomach seems to twist into an even bigger knot upon hearing Shelby’s cherished memories. This stupid knot had formed five days ago when Ash told me over the phone that his team would be caught up in training for a New Years’ race at Anaheim and wouldn’t make it back home for Christmas.
I knew what I was signing up for when I fell for a guy who’d just accepted a professional motocross contract with Team Yamaha. Although this past summer was my first foray into the sport of motocross, I knew he’d be traveling around to a different part of the state each week, racing in arenas and stadiums in front of tens of thousands of people. Yet somehow, dating Ash Carter had seemed like a great idea at the time.
I draw in a sharp breath and push the bad thoughts away. Dating Ash Carter is a great idea. He is a wonderful guy with a heart that’s made of freaking gold. Right now we’re standing in the construction beginnings of a house that Ash bought for his parents with his new racing money. In a world where most guys would rather buy exotic sports cars and fund kegs at frat parties, it doesn’t get much more golden than buying your parents a house.
“What will you do with the old house?” I ask, looking for a quick change of subject. My heart already aches twenty-four hours a day for my long distance boyfriend. Thinking about him now, when I’m about to have to face a million motocross fans at the track isn’t the greatest idea.
Shelby snorts. “Throw it in a dumpster?”
“Your house isn’t that small,” I say, eyeing her.
“It feels small now that I’m looking at it through the bones of this new mansion.”
I follow her gaze and see the glow of the porch light illuminating the small mobile home at the front of their land. Shelby and Ash grew up dirt poor, just like I did with my mom. Shelby stands up and walks through the spaces between boards until she’s at the edge of the concrete slab. “Dad says the place isn’t worth anything but the memories we have inside of it. It’s a trailer from the nineteen-eighties which is older than I am.”
“Crazy,” I say, but my heart isn’t in it. I step over a power tool and walk into what will someday be the kitchen.
Shelby follows me, her face glowing from her cell phone. “Jake says he’ll be here in twenty minutes,” she says, sliding the phone back in her pocket. “Are you sure I look okay?”
“Oh my god, you look fine,” I say, not even bothering to look over at her. She’d made me suffer through two hours of primping time before we came over here to grab her cell phone charger and see the progress on their new house. Two. Hours. Shelby’s golden-brown hair is in bouncy, perfectly shaped curls down her back and she wears black and white knitted Christmas leggings with a long black and silver sweater that hugs her curves and somehow manages to be cute even though my stepmom Molly is wearing the same kind of outfit.
Shelby’s makeup is on point, thanks to my makeup skills that have been perfected by hours of YouTube tutorial watching. Turns out there’s only so much a girl can do to occupy herself when her boyfriend is gone most of the time. My freshman college classes are easy, work is usually boring, and my only friend is always hanging out with Jake. I’m happy for her, though. It certainly took them forever to finally start dating.
I, however, am not even close to being in Shelby’s league tonight. Wearing jeans, running toes and a Mixon t-shirt under my Dad’s thick coat, I am practically the Christmas Grinch around here. I didn’t bother to put on so much as some
sparkly lip gloss before I’d left the house earlier and my hair is in a messy bun piled on top of my head. There’s no reason to get all dressed up when it’s freezing cold outside and no one cares to see you anyway.
Soon Jake will come to pick up Shelby and they’ll spend a magical night at the track enjoying all of the holiday activities. I’ll be stuck, working at the track while everyone else has fun. Shelby has Jake, Molly has my dad, and my little brother Teig has his friends. Everyone will spend tonight with the people they care about and I’ll be alone, with only my phone and the pain of having a long distance boyfriend to keep me company.
Merry freaking Christmas.
Chapter 2
Shelby and I are still hanging out in the skeleton house, admiring the stars through the open roof when Jake shows up at exactly the time he’d promised. We watch the headlights of his truck as they pull into the Carter’s long gravel driveway. “I hope you realize how lucky you are to have such a perfect boyfriend,” I say, playfully shoving her in the shoulder as we walk out toward his truck.
“Your boyfriend is . . . perfect too,” she says, making a pretend gagging sound. “I mean he’s my brother so I can’t compliment him too much.”
I kick a rock as we walk. “If he was perfect, he would be here tonight.”
“Hey there,” Jake says, giving us a little wave. He’s wearing the same kind of black jacket that I’d stolen from my dad earlier today and it’s a little embarrassing. “Merry Christmas Eve.
“Hey!” Shelby says, rushing up to him. She throws her arms around his neck and I look away as they kiss. Shelby’s entire demeanor changes when she’s around Jake. It’s cute and sweet and annoying as hell.
“Hey Hana, do you need a ride?” Jake asks and I know he’s just being nice.
I shake my head. “No, thanks. You two go ahead,” I say, pulling my truck keys out of my pocket. “I need to make a phone call.”
I climb into my truck and pretend to be looking for something in the backseat until they drive away, leaving me alone like the Christmas Grinch that I am. It’s almost seven in the evening here, so it’s still five in California. Ash usually gets done training around this time, and normally he would have called me by now. Just another thing to make my heart hurt.
I stare at my phone and scroll to our latest text messages. The last thing he sent me was at eight in the morning. A simple: Good morning. I miss you!
My thumb hovers over the screen, wanting to type something but I’m not sure what. Anything I could send him right now would just make me sound like a complaining girlfriend. But honestly, he doesn’t even seem that bothered that we won’t be spending our first Christmas together. Ugh.
I roll my eyes and tell myself to suck it up. He’s a busy guy—a rookie professional dirt bike racer. He’s so busy he probably hasn’t noticed that he’s only texted me once today. I on the other hand, have all the time in the world to dwell on missing him.
Knowing that I can’t sit in my truck forever because I promised to help with the festivities at the track, I turn up the heater and slide my cell phone back into my pocket. It starts ringing just as I put the truck in reverse. My heart flutters . . . could it be? I park the truck and grab my phone, biting the inside of my lip, knowing that it’s probably Dad or Molly or even Shelby.
Ash’s gorgeous tanned face stares back at me on the phone screen. I smile at his contact picture. “Hello?” I say as I answer the call, trying like hell to sound casual and not like some obsessive girlfriend.
“Hey there,” he says. His voice is like honey and I can hear the smile behind his words. My heart hurts, no matter how much I tell it not to. “I heard someone was missing me.”
“Oh yeah?” I snort. “Wonder who would miss you. I certainly don’t.”
He chuckles. “Is that so?”
“Yep. I haven’t even realized that you are gone.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” he says slowly.
I think I’m supposed to laugh at this, but I don’t. I just drag my finger along the steering wheel as I gaze at the foggy windshield wishing my boyfriend was here with me and not two thousand miles away.
“So what’s going on over there?” Ash says.
“I’m about to join the chaos at Mixon Motocross Park,” I say with a sigh. “I’m not really in the mood for hot chocolate and a million little kids running around.”
“Well I have some good news for you,” he says.
I sit up straighter. “You’re on a flight home right now and I’ll actually get to see you for Christmas?”
“No, it’s not that.” Even though I knew the answer would be no, it still hurts to hear him say it. Luckily he can’t see my face right now, or he’d feel bad. “The surprise is that I arranged someone to bring you your Christmas present tonight.”
“Someone?” I say, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see it. “You mean Shelby.”
I can practically see his smirk from over the phone. “I don’t know . . . maybe.”
“She’s really good at hiding surprises,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve been with her just about all day and she hasn’t even hinted to anything.”
“Maybe Shelby isn’t a part of this surprise.”
“Why wouldn’t you pick her?” I ask.
“Because she can’t keep a secret to save her life,” he says, laughing. “So yeah, maybe I’m smart enough to choose someone really trustworthy to bring your present to you tonight.”
“Well . . . thanks,” I say, feeling sad again. “Your present is under my tree at home. I don’t know when you’ll get it.”
“I think I’ll be able to come home just after New Year’s. That’s not too far away, babe.”
New Year’s? As in over a week away? I close my eyes and rest my head on the steering wheel, suddenly feeling like I’m so disappointed I could throw up. I want to tell him right now that this long distance thing isn’t working out, that we should just go our separate ways until he’s out of the spotlight and can settle down in one location for months at a time. The words are on the edge of my tongue—but I don’t say them. I don’t want to lose Ash, not at all. Not even when being away from him is so hard.
So I just suck it up again. “I should go, my dad needs me at the track.”
“Okay, babe. Have a good night.”
“Yeah,” I say, swallowing down the pain of missing him. “You too.”
Chapter 3
I can see the glow of Mixon Motocross Park from a mile away. Situated off a county road in the middle of nowhere in this small Texas town, my dad’s motocross track is usually dark, blending into the landscape at this time of night. Races are held on weekends, not on a Thursday, and seeing the night air sparkle as I drive up certainly looks like Christmas. So why don’t I feel like it’s Christmas?
Probably because I’m working. One of the track’s staff members, Marty, flags me down the moment I drive into the parking lot. I roll down my window and he leans in, handing me a flashlight with a glowing red cone on the end.
“I need you to direct traffic into the field over there,” he says, motioning toward the flat land we use as a parking lot.
“Sure thing,” I say, throwing him a warm Christmas smile. In all my months of working at the track, I’ve signed in riders and put together trophies and counted cash. I’ve never directed people where to park. Guess I’ll figure out the technicalities once I’m doing it.
I park near the score tower and then jog across the park to where a few cars are already arriving. I wave to Dad when I pass him and Frank at Frank’s concession stand. The place does look pretty awesome tonight. There are tons of Christmas lights and blow up decorations everywhere. If I were a kid, I’d probably have a blast.
When I reach the grassy field, I walk toward two other people who are waving around red-coned flashlights and quickly recognize the short one as Teig, my little brother.
“They have you on parking lot duty?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. He’s barely eleven years old,
despite being only an inch shorter than I am.
Teig makes a goofy grin. “Not anymore, now that you’re here.”
He shoves his flashlight in my hand.
“Hey! What are you—” I call out, but it’s too late, he’s already running away from me.
“Sorry, Hana. I love you!” he calls out over his shoulder. The little punk.
Now I have two red flashlights and no idea what to do.
Luckily, the other flashlight in the distance starts walking toward me. Soon I realize it’s Molly, all bundled up in a sweater and a fluffy scarf. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and her bright red flashlight casts a glow over the two of us.
“Teig ditched us, huh?” she says with a smile.
I nod. “I’m going to put coal in his stocking.”
She laughs. “It’s not that busy yet, hun. Do you want to go home and get dressed?”
“Uh, I am dressed,” I say, glancing down at my fluffy borrowed jacket and jeans. “I don’t think it’s supposed to get any colder than this.”
“I just meant . . . maybe you’d like to dress a little nicer?” She gives me a tentative smile and I can tell she’s trying not to insult me.
“It’s fine, Molly. I’m just going to be working all night. I don’t care to look nice.”
“Well what if, Shelby, or someone, wants to take a photo with you tonight?”
I throw a hand on my hip. “We aren’t children who want photos with Santa anymore, Molly. Trust me, I am perfectly fine looking like a hobo.”
Her hands fly up. “Okay, okay. I get it. But don’t say I didn’t warn you!”
Molly shows me how to direct the traffic into neatly organized rows of cars and trucks along the field. She stands near the front of the makeshift parking lot and guides people toward me and I guide them into a parking spot. It’s pretty easy and most people pay attention, although some idiots park so far away from the car next to them, you’d think they fear their car might suddenly get fatter or something.
Christmas at Mixon (Motocross Me #1.5) Page 1