by Amy Sparling
Rafael lets out a little whoop. “Awesome! I think I’ll head to the track to ride.” He holds the door open for me as we walk back into the shop. “You gonna ride, too?”
I didn’t think I’d get to ride all week because of school starting, but he makes a good point. Getting out of work early means there’s some unexpected free time. The motocross track is like a second home to me, next to the bike shop. I grew up at both of these places and only ever went home to eat and sleep.
“Yeah,” I say after thinking about it for a second. “I think I will go ride.”
“Cool,” he says, flashing me a smile. “I’ll see you there.”
Rafael is like me in that we both love to ride but aren’t very good at it. I mean, I’m okay. I can hold my own. I’m just not a racer. My dad bought my first dirt bike when I was six and I was so scared of it that it took me a while to be able to ride it around the yard going slower than a lawn mower. But eventually I grew to love dirt bikes.
I’ve never raced, even thought that’s kind of what everyone else does. I just go up to the local track and ride for fun on practice days. I love the feel of the wind in my face, the speed of the bike, and the way that everything just blurs right on by when you ride. There’s no school work or chores or stresses when you ride. It’s just you and the dirt.
I do the best I can at closing up the shop for the day. Without power, I can’t shut down the computer or clock out, but I take the money out of the cash register and put it in the zippered bank bag which I lock in the safe in Dad’s office. I lock up the front door, smirking when I see Dad out front talking to the power company. He’s waving his arms around, no doubt trying to make it seem like something crazy happened to the tree branch instead of what actually happened.
I grab my purse and my keys and send a text to my boyfriend Jay. Unlike me, Jay does race dirt bikes. He’s the fastest racer around here, and he wins every single race. He’s really bitter about not being picked for a professional motocross team yet, but I always tell him that he’s only twenty one and he’s got time. He usually disagrees with me, saying that most pro racers start their career right after high school.
I text him that I got out of work early and want to hit up the track, and when he doesn’t reply I assume he’s already there. Jay spends all his free time at the track. It’s admirable how hard he works.
When I finish closing up shop and walk out to the parking lot, my bike is already magically loaded into my truck bed.
I look around and then spot Rafael climbing into his truck. “Did you do this?” I ask.
He grins at me before closing the truck door and cranking his engine. The window rolls down and he leans out, smacking the side of his truck door with his palm. “Last one to the track has to unload the bikes!”
“Not fair!” I say, laughing. I scramble to jump in my truck but he’s already driving off.
Rafael is a good guy. He’s worked for my dad ever since he graduated high school, and my dad thought he had such a natural talent with bikes that he paid to send him to mechanic school. Now he’s in his thirties and married with two twin boys who want to grow up and be just like their dad. It’s really cute. Every time I see Rafael and his happy family at the track, I know that’s what I want for Jay and me someday. A happy motocross family.
The local motocross track is only a few miles away, which is probably why my dad’s shop gets so much business. They’re a popular track in the state and everyone who goes there drives by Thirty Six Cycles and eventually stops to get their bikes worked on or to buy race fuel or bike parts.
I pay the twenty bucks to ride and then look for Rafael’s truck so I can park next to him. But today’s my lucky day, because I see Jay’s motorhome instead. Jay only lives half an hour from the track, but he likes to bring his motorhome with him during the hot summer months because he can hook it up to the track’s free electricity and have air conditioning. Here on the Gulf Coast, air conditioning is a necessity during the summer.
My headache seems to vanish when I realize he’s here. I haven’t seen him in a few days and I’m missing him terribly. I’ve been so stressed over school starting and now all I want is to relax with my boyfriend and get some laps in on the track.
I park my truck next to his motorhome. His bike is here, so he’s probably inside cooling off. I check my phone. He hasn’t texted me back yet. Weird.
The roar of dirt bikes is louder as I climb out of my truck. There’s at least a dozen people out on the track right now, which is pretty busy for a Tuesday. I love that my favorite sport is getting more popular. It’s the greatest sport on earth. Not to mention, it has the hottest guys.
I smile to myself as I walk up to Jay’s motorhome. I pull open the door and loud music hits me. I guess that’s why he didn’t text me back. He couldn’t hear his phone over all this noise.
I step inside and look around, but he’s not sprawling on the couch like usual.
“Babe?” I say, walking toward the bedroom part of the tiny motorhome. The curtain is pulled back. Shit, I hope he didn’t get hurt and come back here to rest it off.
“Babe?” I say again, pulling back the curtain.
Jay is here, but he’s not hurt.
He’s balls deep in another woman. They don’t even notice me at first. They keep going it at for a few seconds, long enough for me to realize that the slut my boyfriend is banging is Miranda Brown, who has the nickname Track Ho for a reason. She’s been hooking up with every guy she can get her disgusting hands on ever since before we graduated high school.
My entire world seems to blur and then shatter before my eyes. Jay and I have been together for three years. We’re perfect together. We’re happy.
Or so I thought.
My voice feels strangled, but I mange to say something. “What. The. Fuck.”
Now they can hear me. Jay jumps and turns around, eyes wide like a rodent that’s been caught digging in the trash. And honestly, digging in trash is what he’s doing right now.
“Fuck,” he says. There’s so much emotion behind that word—I can’t tell if he’s embarrassed or ashamed or pissed off.
I can feel tears lingering in my eyes, waiting to be unleashed, but the second I lock eyes with Miranda, fury takes their place. She’s grinning.
Grinning.
The bitch.
She’s wanted my boyfriend forever, just like she wants every guy who is even remotely talented at motocross. She doesn’t even ride bikes herself. She just rides the riders.
I’m going to be sick.
“Jenn,” Jay finally says after ten painful seconds of silence. Again, I can’t tell the emotion behind his voice. You’d think he would start pleading with me, giving me those clichéd lines of it’s not what it looks like.
I shake my head. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to keep seeing it.
I just want to be out of here.
I turn on my heel and race out of the motorhome, slamming the door closed behind me. I jump back in my truck and take off, not caring that I just wasted twenty dollars to ride. I can’t seem to care about anything right now.
All I know is that I am never dating a motocross guy again.
Chapter 3
When I wake up, it takes me a second to remember where I am. I’m not always home very often, but this has never happened before. Probably from the new furniture in my room and the fact that I now wake up in immense pain in my right wrist. I must have tossed and turned a lot to make it hurt this bad.
I sit up and reach for last night’s bottled water off the shiny new nightstand. I down a pain pill and then reach for my phone.
Luckily, my sister’s phone rings this time when I call her instead of going straight to voicemail like yesterday.
“Bro,” she answers with a smile in her voice. She calls me Bro when she’s being a goofball. “What’s up?”
It’s good to hear Bella’s voice again. My mom and step-dad have never been very lovey-dovey parents and my older brother
Mikey hasn’t been much of a brother to me since right before he got arrested. Back then I was finally getting fast enough to challenge him on the track and he didn’t like that. Mikey was born with a natural motocross talent. I had to work for mine.
But Bella has always been my sweet little sister. She’s the sane one of the family.
“I’m just sitting here at home,” I tell her. “And I’m wondering where you are.”
“I’m at home.”
“No, you’re not,” I say.
She snorts. “I’m at my home. Grandma’s is home to me now.”
My wrist is killing me, so I fall back in bed. “Since when did you decide to move there? We barely saw her when we were growing up.”
Bella’s voice softens. “I don’t know, Aiden. Grandma and I are pen pals. I used to write to her all the time and she would write back. So I guess I’m just closer to her than anyone else in the family.”
“Wow…I can’t believe I didn’t know that.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know,” she says. Her voice is a little sadder than normal. “You’re always gone. That’s why I left. I got sick of being stuck in that huge house with Mikey and his gross girlfriend. Mom and Dad are never home and I’m just sick of it.”
“What about school?” I say. Bella has gone to the same Orlando private school her entire life.
“I quit,” She says simply. “Mom was pissed, but whatever. I homeschool myself online now. It’s through a state college and it’s really cool because I get college credit for my AP classes.”
“Wow,” I say again. My sixteen year old sister is all grown up. She’s doing stuff on her own now. And part of the reason she left is because of me. “I’m sorry, Bells. I should have come home more often.”
“It’s not your fault,” she says. “I’m proud of you. You’re living your dream as a fancy professional motocross guy. All my friends think you’re super hot.”
I chuckle. “They don’t want me now. I’m broken and worthless.”
“Wait, what?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“Oh my god, Aiden, what happened?” My sister shrieks.
I have to admit, it feels good to have someone care about me. Lately I feel like my only worth is to Team Loco and if I’m broken then I’m worth nothing. I tell her about how I broke my wrist racing and now I’m benched for at least six weeks but probably longer.
“Aiden!” Bella chastises better than my mom does. “You should have told me sooner!”
“It just happened,” I say quickly. “About a week ago. I spent some time with the guys since I couldn’t race but then I decided to come home and focus on healing. I can’t be travelling every week for no reason. But now I’m home and the one person I wanted to see is in Cajun town.”
“Hey, Cajun food is amazing,” Bella says with a laugh. “Do you want to come stay with Grandma and me?”
The only thing I remember about the very few trips we took to Louisiana in my childhood was that it’s hot as hell and boring as hell. But I look around my room in this house and realize there’s nothing going for me here, either. I miss my sister.
“Is there room for me? Would Grandma mind?”
“There’s tons of room. Grandma has a four bedroom house. I mean, it’s nothing like Mom and Dad’s manor, but it’s cool. She’s on like twenty acres of land in this small town called Breaux Valley and I like it here. It’s not crazy like Orlando.”
“And what about Grandma? Would she mind?”
“Bro, she would love to see you. She loves all of us. Except maybe Mom who she’s mad at because she never calls or visits. But come over. Get a flight here, like today.”
I grin and look around my room. All the important stuff I own is still packed in my giant suitcase and all I have to do is throw in my phone charger and bottle of pills and I’m ready to hit the road.
“I’ll text you when my flight lands,” I say.
She lets out a squee of excitement. “Can wait to see you, Aiden!”
“Me too,” I say.
Bella seems even shorter than I remember. Her long brown hair has been cut into a shoulder length style. She jumps up and down, waving at me from across the terminal at this small Louisiana airport. It feels good to have someone excited to see me. For the last year my whole life has been motocross. Races and practice and working out. The other guys on Team Loco have become my best friends and my new family, but let’s face it—we’re just a group of guys who race motocross. We’re not a mushy-feelings type of family. And while I’m manly as hell on the race track, sometimes you just need a long bear hug from your sister.
“I missed you, kid,” I say, wrapping my arms tightly around her.
“I missed you more,” she says, her voice all muffled from being squished against my chest. When we finally pull away, she smiles up at me. She does seem happier than ever now that she’s here instead of being cooped up at our parent’s house.
“You’re my favorite family member,” she says.
“You’re mine,” I say back. “Can we get some food on the way home, I’m freaking starving.”
She laughs and takes me outside to the parking area. “Yeah we can eat. Cajun food!”
I roll my eyes. Bella stops in front of an older model Ford Taurus. It’s white, with chipped paint and missing hubcaps. I lift an eyebrow because there’s no way she’s about to get inside of this thing—but yes, she does.
She opens the driver’s side door and slides into the ancient car. It’s at least twenty years old. I pop open the passenger door and lean in.
“Are you serious? This is seriously your car?”
She rolls her eyes and starts the engine. I put my stuff in the backseat and then sit up front next to her. “Why would you drive this POS when our parents would be happy to buy you a new car?”
She bites her bottom lip and gives a little shrug.
“Well?” I say. “It’s this Grandma’s car or something?” It certainly looks like an old lady’s car.
She sighs. “Apparently you haven’t talked to Mom.”
“Not really,” I say. “I mean she comments on my Instagram every now and then but I can’t remember the last time we talked.” My mom seems like she spent her whole life waiting for her kids to be grown so she could go live a life without them. Like I said, we aren’t very touchy feely family.
Bella pulls onto the main road, which isn’t saying much because we’re surrounded by trees and empty land. “When I left I told them I didn’t want their help anymore. I said all they do is throw money at me and I didn’t want it. I wanted a relationship with them or nothing at all.”
“Holy shit,” I say. “That was bold.”
She snorts. “Mom decided to cut me off financially to prove a point or something… So.. no car for me. Grandma lets me drive her car.”
I scrunch up my nose. “Bella, I’ll buy a car for you.”
“It’s fine.” She adjusts the air vent to where it’s blowing on her but the air isn’t exactly cold. I’m already beginning to sweat, which is going to make my cast itchy as hell. “I’m fine sharing a car with Grandma.”
I give her a look. She shrugs. “Seriously, I’m fine.”
“I think we should buy you a car,” I say. “Something safer at least. It doesn’t even have to be fancy but I can’t have you –or Grandma for that matter—driving such a clunker.”
“Grandma doesn’t drive much.” Bella glances over at me. “But… there is this one car…”
“Where?”
“It’s a used car and it’s ten thousand dollars.”
“How used?” I ask.
“Not very. It’s like five years old.”
“I’d rather get you a new car. Something safe and reliable.”
“This is a reliable car, I promise. Mr. Doherty checked it out before putting it up for sale and he owns a mechanic shop and everything and said he’d give a warranty on it.”
I can’t help but smirk. “If you’re so happy wit
h driving this piece of shit, why do you know all this information about this other car?”
She grins. “Well… I was hoping to save up enough money to buy it myself. But it’ll probably sell soon. It’s a nice car and it’s priced right and everyone trusts Mr. Doherty.” She wiggles her eyebrows. “It’s a Camaro.”
“I’m sold. Let’s go get it.”
She shakes her head. “No… I can’t take your money, Aiden. I’ve got four thousand saved up and I was thinking of asking him to do a payment plan for me.”
“Just let me buy it.”
“I can’t take your money, Aiden.”
“Why not?” I say. “I have barely any bills and no girlfriend to spend my money on. I get paid pretty well with Team Loco so just let me do this for you. I love you, sis. I want to do something nice for you.”
Her shoulders fall, but I can tell in the way she presses her lips together that she’s trying to hide a smile. She’s going to relent, I can tell. “Fine…” she says, her lips splitting into a grin.
“Whoop,” I say, smacking the dashboard of this ugly car. “I am an amazing big brother.”
“Don’t go getting a big head,” she says. “You weren’t even there for my last birthday!”
“But I sent you that new MacBook,” I say.
She grins. “That was a pretty badass present. Plus it’s okay that you’re gone all the time because my friends think it’s awesome that I’m related to you.” She bats her eyelashes and makes her voice all high pitched. “Oh my God, Aiden is soooo hot, Bella! You have to introduce me to him!”
“Your friends are too young for me, but I’m flattered.”
She slows down and puts her blinker on as we approach a large building called Thirty Six Cycles.
“They have a bike shop out here?” I ask.
“They have a dirt bike track here too,” she says, pointing to the road in front of us even though I can’t see anything. “It’s about three miles that way. I drive past it every day getting to Grandma’s. That’s why all my new Louisiana friends are obsessed with you because they live in a motocross town.”