Chapter 25
We crossed the border into California this morning.
Reid seems a fraction lighter—a little more himself—but he’s still not quite here.
We actually spoke at breakfast—finally—but as soon as I brought up the competition, he shut down and changed the topic.
I knew he probably would after I asked him if his knee was bothering him but I had to try.
I’ve been worried about his knee, since I swear I’ve seen him favoring his good leg more than usual.
He’s been so hot and cold I’m hardly surprised when he randomly calls me. “We should stop at a diner for lunch.”
“You think?”
“Yeah, we deserve a break from cooking.”
This feels like an olive branch so I take it, but the diner he chooses is terrible—genuinely and truly terrible. I can barely choke down another bite of my food. It’s too salty while somehow also being flavorless.
Reid spits out his soggy sandwich as laughter tumbles out of him. I missed that sound. Leaning into the moment and to him, I whisper across the table, “Can we please leave?”
He throws a couple twenties onto the table and we bolt. Reid grabs my hand and we race back to the vans as though we’ve just committed a crime. We’re giggling like school kids, and I’m drunk on it.
The laughter lightens the air between us for once, and I try my best to hang onto it. My phone dings in my pocket as he opens my driver’s side door for me. It’s Chloe. As soon as I see her name I’m tossed back into reality and the air is all heavy again.
Reid sees it on my face before I have to say a word. The moment is officially gone. His thick hands are in his hair, and he’s shifting his weight left to right. “How is she?”
I shrug. “The same.”
She was flown back home a few days ago—they transferred her to a rehabilitation center in Colorado. It cost a fortune. Thankfully, her family can afford it, but I feel sick thinking of all the riders who wouldn’t be able to if it happened to them.
I’m antsy for the season to end—antsy to get back to Colorado and do whatever I can for Chloe.
I want to make up for being so distant these last few years, but I’m not sure how to do it.
Her legs don’t work. I’m certain our lackluster friendship is the last of her worries, but it’s the one thing actually within my control.
My knuckles turn white as I follow Reid out of the parking lot.
I can’t wait to see Parker tonight. He shares the same inner sunshine that his sister does, but he’s much more aware.
Parker always knows when to push and when to pull.
I never compare myself to him; not the way I do with Riley.
It’s a little easier to enjoy his rays—I could use a tan.
The coast is coming into view, and as I roll the windows down a salty sea breeze wafts in and fills the car with fresh perspective.
One last race this season and I’m done until next year.
If I manage to scrape by without any injuries, I can relax this winter and return with more confidence and less anxiety.
LA traffic is just as brutal as everyone says it is. It might even be worse. We haven’t moved an inch in approximately an hour, or at least it feels that way.
My phone rings. It’s Reid again. “Can we get In-N-Out?”
I can’t help but laugh—he sounds like the old Reid. “Sure we can.” I’m still hungry after our lackluster lunch.
Without a turn signal, he shoots his way across four lanes of traffic—I follow. There’s a cacophony of beeping surrounding us, but Reid doesn’t seem to care.
It takes way longer than it should for me to make my own way across, but it’s worth it once that iconic bright yellow and red sign comes into view. These burgers are unmatched—quintessential California.
Reid makes it there a whole five minutes before me. I get stuck behind an old guy and a public transit bus…purgatory. I wouldn’t expect anything less from the 405.
When I finally park, I spot Reid on the hood of his van, shoveling a cheeseburger down his throat. “Sorry, I couldn’t wait.”
He hands me another delightfully greasy creation and tucks some napkins into my shirt. I lean up against the van, and he leans down to put a strawberry milkshake in front of my face.
I hum. “My favorite.”
Reid looks pleased with himself. “I know.”
The only sound between us is the slurping. It feels like it did when we were kids, simple and sweet. I don’t give a shit anymore about eating too many desserts—I’m training so much that a few hundred extra calories won’t matter.
The tension is still there between us—heavy and unspoken—but things feel looser the closer we get to LA. We’ve both accepted that whatever happens, happens. There’s really not much we can do to change it. We ride our best, and we either fail or succeed.
“So, we’re gonna meet up with Parker and camp at his spot. It’s shady, so hopefully it’s not too hot.”
That’s unlikely—it’s super fucking hot here, even though it’s September. The marine layer is doing nothing to cool us off either. Hopefully the further we get from LA traffic, the less the heat will hang in the smog.
We’re each slurping on our shakes still.
The dessert is divine and fuels me enough to continue driving.
In some ways, driving is more tiring than riding.
Driving is so brain-numbingly boring. Next season I’m going to have to consider flying in for every race.
I love Willa, but I’m certain now that this on-the-road lifestyle isn’t for me long term.
It’s romantic for a weekend, maybe even a month. After that it’s downright abuse.
Reid doesn’t have the same complaints, and he thrives out here. He’s a true free spirit, in ways I can only dream of. Reid expertly leads the way out of the parking lot until we’re back on the road again. At least the traffic has eased up some…
We’re finally moving for once. The camping spot Parker sent us a pin for is only twenty minutes away. As we make our way past Long Beach, everything starts to open up. The shoreline comes into view, and I can finally breathe again.
Thankfully, since our race is even further away, we won’t have to drive back towards LA until we head home.
Although if Reid loses his spot at Red Bull, I want to ask him if he’d be down to drive back through to Yosemite.
We could see Riley, maybe summit Half Dome.
I’ve always wanted to do that, even though I hate rock climbing.
A bunch of vans are parked in a giant lot right up against a beach. There’s soft music coming from one of them, and surfboards are piled up everywhere. Before I can even park, I spot Parker’s bleach blonde hair as he jogs towards me.
He’s pulling me into a crushing hug before I’m all the way out of the door. “Oh Addie, it’s so good to see you.”
I love Parker like a brother. He’s the epitome of all things good, like sprinkles on an ice cream cone.
Parker takes positive things and somehow makes them even more positive—a golden retriever if there ever was one.
He’s much more considerate than his sister.
Parker notices everyone’s emotions all of the time and is always trying to keep an eye on everybody.
“It’s good to see you too.”
Reid pulls Parker into an easy hug. They’ve always been close, and I sincerely hope Parker can talk him out of his funk. Maybe he can say something or see something I can’t.
Parker throws his arm over my shoulder. “Come on guys, let me introduce you to everyone.”
He leads us towards a small forest. There are bright yellow picnic tables scattered about, and a bunch of surfer dudes sitting around eating kebabs. One is waxing his board, and another is grilling more food. It looks like a commune.
Parker would find himself somewhere like this. He looks happy and healthy, so who gives a damn?
Reid grabs two kebabs, shoving one into my hand even though we literally just ate. I push it back to him immediately, but I do accept the seltzer someone gives me. Unfortunately it’s lukewarm, and the flavor is disappointing to say the least.
I’m starting to feel a twinge homesick.
It’s September—I should be drinking cider and chasing after golden leaves, yet here I am with sand in my socks sweating my ass off. It feels wrong.
The California sunset makes it all worth it.
Palm trees stand against the pinks and oranges in the sky.
I sit there and watch the colors slowly fade away, so enthralled by the display I miss the sound of Parker walking towards me.
Riley’s brother sits next to me and hands me another drink as he asks, “It’s a nice spot, right? ”
“Yeah. It is.” I look back to realize the campground has turned into a party. There’s at least thirty people gathered around the dimly lit space, and there’s a blazing fire in the middle of them all.
He wastes no time getting to the meat of the conversation. “So, what’s going on with you and Reid?”
My drink goes down wrong, and I cough. “Nothing, we’re just focused on riding.”
“Addie, I saw his crash. If you can call it that.” He pauses to scoff. “That’s not normal Reid behavior. And you guys haven’t spoken much since you got here.”
“We’ve been on the road together for months. We just ran out of things to say.”
“Reid can have a conversation with a wall. Be serious, you know you can trust me.”
I’m not sure if he’s picking up on my sadness or if it hurts him that much to imagine me not trusting him—nonetheless his blue eyes glimmer a little.
“It’s just been awkward lately. I think we’re spending too much time together. Tensions are high.”
Things have thawed slightly between us, but there’s still something off. I’m not sure we can go back to how our friendship was before the incident in Whistler.
He nudges me and smirks. “Oh yeah? What kind of tensions?”
“Get your head out of the gutter.”
“But seriously, did one of you finally make a move?” Parker’s eyes go wide. “Was it Reid?”
His phrasing stops me in my tracks. Why would he assume either of us would make a move? And why would he guess Reid? It makes no sense to me. I’m stunned as I say, “No.”
“Don’t lie, Delly.”
He’s the only one who calls me that. My cheeks are pink and my secrets are out. “Nothing happened, really. He was just trying to prove something.”
Parker lets the conversation stall there, and we sit in comfortable silence enjoying the stars above us. I can only see one or two from all of the pollution, but I can trust they’re there, and the thought brings me a sense of calm.
Reid joins us on the log, and it tips slightly. Parker jumps up. “Looks like this log is built for two.”
I don’t miss his very obvious wink, but I hope Reid does. His towering frame is too close for comfort.
“What, are you afraid to fall off again or something?” I tease.
He smiles. “Yeah, Addie. Something like that.”
Reid steals a sip of my drink, and I take a piece of pineapple off of his kebab. My heart is thudding, but I try to match it with the pace of the waves before he speaks again. “Addie, I’m sorry for what I did in Whistler.”
“You don’t have to apologize for that.”
“I do. I shouldn’t have done it like that.”
My breath catches at those last two words. “It’s really okay.”
He’s getting up as he says, “I’ll do better.”
I’m not sure what ‘better’ means. Before I can dissect the meaning of his words, he grabs my hand and drags me to the center of the picnic tables where people are swaying softly to a Hozier song. Reid keeps dragging me forward, but I dig my heels into the dirt. “I can’t dance, you know that.”
“I’ll lead.”
So I let him. We sway together in the sea breeze.