Chapter 2
In the middle of dinner, Reid waltzes in the front door. He’s still thoroughly sullied in mud. I’m not sure what he was doing for the past two hours. Kicking off his worn-out mountain biking shoes by the door, he saunters into the dining room.
Reid bends down, pulling Josie into a crushing hug as he asks, “You guys started without me?”
Damien smacks him on the back of the head with a pair of tongs. “Go shower before you hug my daughter or no steak for you.”
“Damn, tough crowd.” He throws up his hands as if he’s in trouble as he walks off to shower.
I can finally eat my steak in peace.
Damien brings over some sort of pie. I can’t eat that.
I’m already heavier than most of the girls in my division.
It would slow me down on the uphills and make it harder to nail my jumps.
He glares at me intensely as if he already knows what I was going to say.
Reluctantly, I grab the spoon and take a small bite.
My grumpy cousin is nodding at me. I’m rolling my eyes through my reply, “Chill. I can handle my own meal plan just fine.”
As annoying as it is, I do love how worried he gets—he always keeps an eye out for me in a way that my parents and sister never do.
My parents hate that I like riding bikes at all, let alone competitively.
They would have preferred that I turned out like my twin, Aster.
We may look identical but we could not be more different.
We both have dark blonde hair that’s mostly straight but becomes a giant puffball whenever there’s some moisture in the air.
Our eyes are eerily similar, a honey brown shade that looks a bit golden in the direct sun.
She’s skinnier than me—something my mother never fails to mention.
Aster and her partner, Mackenzie, fit the Fairfax mold perfectly.
They obsess over massive white couches and investment portfolios.
She’s the one who my parents bring along on networking trips and ask to sit in on company meetings.
I’d rather bang my head against the counter than go to one of those, but it hurts that they don’t want me there nevertheless.
Once they realized that they got the perfect daughter with Aster, they kind of gave up on me. Not that I could blame them—I never made much of an effort, spending all of my time with Damien’s mom before she died. Even Reid’s mom, our live-in chef, is more of a mother to me than my own is.
I’m mostly over it. But on days like today—when I’m scared and want to cry on my mother’s shoulder—it hurts more than it should.
It’s a tricky sort of thing, grieving someone who is very much still alive.
I feel guilty sometimes, like I should have a relationship with her just because I can. Damien doesn’t have that luxury.
Damien used to go with Reid and compete too, when he wasn’t off climbing some high peak, but all that stopped after his wife died.
It’s a shame, he was insanely talented. Damien is good at almost everything.
Now, we’re lucky if we can even get him to go on a hike.
I know he misses it though, his dark eyes give it away when he thinks I’m not looking.
Reid comes down as we finish our desserts and scarfs down his steak with an intense focus that is somewhat concerning. He’s probably exhausted. Looking at him and the small scrapes on his forearms makes me feel even more nervous for my ride tomorrow.
I love mountain biking, more than anything really. Seriously, I do. But that doesn’t mean it’s not scary.
Biking is the only time I can finally turn my brain off and be present.
It’s the only time I’m able to stop thinking and feel something.
Convincing myself to get on the bike and let go is the hard part.
The idea of actually putting my all into competing this year makes my stomach turn.
This is exactly what I have always wanted, so I’m not sure why it feels so bad.
It’s hard to say whether that means I’m on the right track or the wrong one.
My chair slides behind me, and I make the excuse that I want to do the dishes. Damien follows and asks, “Addie are you gonna be okay?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.”
“No, not with the dishes.” He grabs the sponge out of my hand and turns me so that I’m facing him. “I mean out on the road alone.”
“I won’t be alone. Reid will be there.”
His gaze is intense, trepidation drifting off of him. With arms folded across his broad chest, he warns, “I know, but with the panic attacks and everything.”
I’m annoyed now. There’s enough self doubt coursing through me to last a lifetime. I grab the sponge and return to busying myself with the dishes. “I’m a big girl, Damien. They’re under control.”
They are most certainly not under control, but he doesn’t need to know that. He probably already does though—he always knows.
“I just want to make sure you actually want to do this.” His voice is gentle—it puts me on edge.
My lip is trembling. I nod softly and close my eyes as I will the feelings to recede.
He’s imploring me with his eyes. “You’re going to eat enough? And sleep enough?” Counting on his fingers, Damien continues ranting. “You should get a hotel every so often to make sure you sleep well. It’s important to have rest days, but you also need to train. Does Reid have a program for you?”
“I’ve got it.” My voice is clipped.
The message is received—he leaves me alone, finally. I do my best to steady my breathing. As peace is almost within my grasp, Reid walks over and adds his dish to the sink. He throws a towel over his shoulder and smiles. “I’ll dry.”
“We have a dishwasher.”
I’m being a bitch and I know it, but I also can’t seem to stop.
“Okay fine, I’ll put them in the dishwasher then. I’m very good at putting things in dishwashers.”
He is, in fact, subpar when it comes to loading the dishwasher, but we’ll be setting off for a six month road trip tomorrow, and I don’t want to kick it off with fighting. We’ll be in separate vans, but we decided to sign up for all the same events so that we could ‘be a team’ as Reid says.
For the third time, a cup he placed falls on its side. He chuckles. “Ok, I lied.”
“No shit. How about I do the dishes while we’re on the road.” I can’t help but laugh too.
We’ll have to do the dishes in my van anyways—his doesn’t even have a kitchenette.
Reid’s van is a piece of shit, and that’s putting it kindly.
He nicknamed it the ‘shaky shanty’. The name is spot on.
Half of the time, I’m not sure how it still runs.
We tried to get him to work on it more in the off season, but he wasn’t interested and he wouldn’t let Damien buy him a new one either.
My van, a brand new Mercedes sprinter, is pretty fucking sweet.
Reid affectionately named it ‘Willa the Wagon’.
It took almost a year to design, and half of a year to assemble.
I hired the best of the best to work on the heating, cooling, and general design.
Somehow, they managed to cram a shower in there—it doubles as a bike wash station.
The kitchenette is full service too, with a stove, mini fridge, and even an espresso machine.
Reid proposed that we travel together, and he would do all the gross maintenance on Willa in exchange for letting him use my shower.
It made sense, it really did. I guess it still does.
Two friends teaming up to make life on the road a little easier and a lot safer.
I don’t think I’d have the courage to leave the driveway if he wasn’t coming along.
Damien is a big fan of the plan, but Delaney knows exactly why I’m worried. My crush has been simmering for the better part of my life, and now this road trip is about to fan the flame.
We silently work on the dishes together until I reach into the sink and realize there’s nothing left. Reid brushes his hands together, looking satisfied with himself. “What’s your strategy for tomorrow?”
“To not crash.” I’m not even trying to be snarky, that’s the extent of my strategy right now.
He nudges me. “Come on, let’s go soak and we can talk about it.”
The absolute last thing I need right now is to brush knees with Reid in the hot tub, but I nod anyways. I’ve always had a hard time saying no to him.
Staring at myself for too long in the mirror, I notice the nasty bruise across the lower half of my rib cage. I took a bad fall a few weeks ago—my tire rolled over a root the wrong way and my torso rammed into my handlebars.
I’m annoyed it still hasn’t gone away. Maybe Damien is right, and I really am too breakable for mountain biking. Reid’s cuts and bruises seem to evaporate overnight.
My favorite robe won’t make it into my luggage for the trip. It’s objectively a waste of space, but I will miss it. I so wish I could be one of those carefree girls who could go weeks and weeks without a shower but I did, unfortunately, inherit my love of the finer things from my parents.
Mud and dirt don’t bother me one bit, but I appreciate a steamy hot shower to wash it off after a long day. You’d think that is to be expected, but some people in the outdoor world pride themselves on their ability to lack basic hygiene.
So I like soft shit—sue me.
The robe feels so good on my skin, and I don’t want to take it off. There’s this silly sense of grief clouding me over having to leave it behind.
I hope I can get in the hot tub before Reid, that way I don’t have to undress in front of him. He never does me the decency of looking away. It always makes me feel like my body is unimpressive compared to what he’s used to, so boring that my curves have no effect on him.
To my dismay, he’s already in the hot tub, with his big arms sprawled across the hard sides.
He’s chugging a giant mason jar full of slightly blue liquid, probably electrolytes.
I approach the edge slowly and try to ease into the warm water while shrugging my robe off of my shoulders. About half of it is soaking wet now.
Reid is laughing at me. “Why didn’t you take it off before you got in?”
Letting myself sink all the way up to my nose, I splash water at him with more force than necessary. He scoots himself over closer to me, bumping my leg with his. Shivers trail up my spine, and I squish myself as far into the corner of the hot tub as I can.
“I was just going to offer you some electrolytes.”
“You know I don’t like the brand you use.”
“Oh Addie. So, so needy.” His smirk is diabolical.
I splash the fucker again. “I didn’t ask for any!”
“You have to hydrate for tomorrow.”
“Don’t bring up tomorrow, please.” I’m pleading with my eyes.
Reid’s face turns from playful to perturbed as he asks, “Are you worried about riding?”
My face speaks for me.
His leg is nearly brushing mine as he inches closer and pulls my head against his shoulder. “Addie, you have more talent in your pinky toe than those girls have in their whole bodies. You’ll crush.”
“I feel more like I’ll crash.”
“You can’t think like that. You have to envision the landing, or you’ll never hit it.”
“I’m just worried about the rain. It was scary watching you today.”
Reid shifts to face me and pulls me in for a hug. It feels better than it should.
When we separate, he’s staring down at my chest. I’m about to scold him when the rough pad of his thumb skates gently against my bruised ribs.
I suck in a breath.
Usually, I love hot water, but I feel a bit like I’m boiling now. Swallowing hard, I yank my body as far away from him as I can. My swollen ribs grind against my skin and I wince.
He’s right back beside me and I can’t escape him this time. Reid studies the blue marks as I try to assure him, “I’m fine, I swear.”
“I feel like this should be healed by now. I didn’t realize it still hurt.”
“Yeah I know. It’s annoying as hell that I’m the safe one and somehow I still get more injured than you.”
His worry has transformed back to his cool confidence yet again. He motions to himself as he grins. “You know me, the legendary Hasty Hastings.”
I pull myself away again and move to turn on the bubbles. I’m not exactly sure what I think bubbles are going to do, but it feels like maybe their presence will diffuse the tension. I’m brave and show some of my true feelings. “I don’t care about Hasty. I care about Reid.”
Reid motions down to his chest. “Look, I’m in one piece.”
I desperately want to reach out and touch him, to prove to myself he really is okay. I brush it off instead. “Yeah, this time you are.”
“I’ll always do my best to come home safe.”
“We won’t even have a home til like Thanksgiving,” I sigh.
“Well, we always have a home, we’re just temporarily forcing ourselves to be without it.”
I can’t help but snort a little. “Oh Reid, you make it sound so romantic.”
“You know me, a hopeless romantic.” He drums his fingers lightly against the hot tub.
Oh how I wish that were true. The Reid I know is a player in every sense of the word.