Chapter Twelve
Echo
By the time I pull into the garage behind Wolfe, I’ve managed to convince myself I’m completely normal about everything.
Which is impressive considering twenty minutes ago I was sitting in his lap on a beach telling him not to give up on another man while he had his hands on my hips.
Super normal.
Very healthy.
Nothing to unpack there.
I kill the engine and pull off my helmet, shaking my hair loose as Wolfe parks beside me.
He catches me looking at him.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
His mouth pulls into a grin. “Bullshit.”
I swing off my bike. “You’re awfully cocky for someone who was pining on a beach this morning.”
“For fuck’s sake.”
I laugh and head for the open garage doors before he can retaliate.
The place is already loud.
Revel is sitting backward on a rolling stool, spinning himself in slow circles while Reign stands beside one of the bikes looking like he’s seriously considering kicking him off it.
Draygon’s leaning against a workstation with his arms crossed. Sayshen and Talon are by the tool cabinets talking about something that sounds suspiciously like suspension settings, and Thorne is across the garage drinking from a bottle of water.
My steps slow without permission.
Thorne looks over.
Our eyes meet.
And there it is again.
That fucking weirdness.
Not anger exactly. But something is still sitting between us, and after talking to Wolfe this morning, I’m even more aware of it.
They’re both hurt. They both want eachother, and I’m caught somewhere in the middle while also wanting both of them.
Oh, and Draygon.
Can’t forget Draygon.
Jesus Christ.
I need a hobby that doesn’t involve emotionally unavailable motorcycle racers.
Actually, no, I need a fucking convent.
“You two finally decided to show up,” Talon says.
I look at the clock on the wall.
“Literally three minutes early.”
“Still cutting it close.”
“Okay, Dad.”
Sayshen snorts.
Talon gives me a flat look. “Don’t.”
“What? You’ve got the attitude for it.”
Revel spins past on the stool. “I mean, I never had a dad, but if I had to build one from scratch, I’m pretty sure he’d be exactly this fucking miserable.”
The garage goes quiet for half a beat.
Revel keeps spinning.
“What?” He shrugs. “I’m saying he fits the job.”
Talon reaches out and catches the back of his shirt, stopping the stool dead.
Revel nearly slides off.
“Fuck, dude.”
“Keep talking.”
Revel looks at me. “See? Strong paternal energy.”
I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself laughing.
This is still weird sometimes.
Not them being idiots. I’m getting used to that frighteningly fast actually.
It’s being here in general.
Standing in the Speed Demons garage like I belong here, with the crew.
A few weeks ago, I was sitting alone in some shitty motel wondering whether coming to Tampa was the biggest mistake of my life. Now I’ve somehow got a workstation, a job, two brothers, several new friends, and three men making my personal life look like somebody threw gasoline on a dumpster fire.
Progress, I guess.
Wolfe comes up beside me and bumps his shoulder into mine, his hand brushing lightly against my lower back as he leans closer.
“You good, wa?yé?a?”
There he goes again.
I tilt my head up at him. “Do you ever stop checking on people?”
“Nope.” His mouth pulls into that easy grin. “Not the ones I care about.”
I narrow my eyes, fighting my own smile. “Well, that’s rather annoying.”
“And yet,” he says, nudging me again, “you keep me around.”
I laugh under my breath, then catch on to the word he used. “Wait. What does wa?yé?a—”
The office door bangs open.
Andre steps into the garage with a folder tucked under his arm.
Wolfe’s grin widens as he straightens. “Guess you’ll have to wonder.”
“Oh, fuck you.”
“Later, maybe.”
What a cocky bastard.
My mouth drops open just as Andre calls, “Everybody in.”
The entire room changes.
Revel immediately stops spinning.
That alone tells me this is serious.
“Unfortunately,” Revel says, looking at Reign.
“Fuck you.”
Andre points toward the center of the garage. “Bring it in.”
We gather around him.
I end up between Sayshen and Draygon, with Wolfe just behind me. Thorne hangs off to the side beside Reign, arms folded across his chest.
Andre looks around at all of us.
“I got a call late last night.”
Revel raises his hand.
Andre looks at him, already tired. “What?”
Revel leans back on the stool, completely serious for all of half a second. “How late?”
Andre’s eyes narrow.
Revel lifts both hands. “I’m just asking. You’re always on our asses about getting eight hours, being rested, proper recovery and all that shit. So I’m curious if Coach actually practices what he preaches.”
Sayshen snorts.
Reign drops his head, laughing under his breath, while Wolfe shakes his head like he knew exactly where this was going.
Andre just stares at Revel.
Revel grins. “What? Accountability matters.”
“Are you finished?”
“Depends. Did you get eight hours?”
Talon mutters, “Jesus Christ.”
Andre points at him. “One more word and you’re running conditioning alone.”
Revel immediately shuts his mouth, still grinning.
“Thought so.”
Andre opens the folder.
“We’ve been offered a last-minute entry into the Isle of Man TT.”
For a second, nobody says anything.
Then the garage erupts.
Revel looks like someone just told him Christmas is happening twice this year.
“The fucking TT?”
Andre lifts his voice over them. “Calm the fuck down.”
Nobody calms the fuck down.
Not that I blame them, even I know enough about racing to understand why they’re losing their minds.
The Isle of Man TT.
I’ve watched videos.
Everybody who likes motorcycles has watched videos.
Riders flying through towns at speeds that make absolutely no sense, clipping past stone walls, houses, curbs and fucking lamp posts like death is just another competitor trying to keep up.
There are racetracks.
Then there’s that.
“Wait,” I say, looking at Andre. “Like… actually racing it?”
“Yeah.” He nods once. “First time for the Speed Demons.”
Revel lets out a low whistle while Sayshen grins like he’s already halfway there.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “Okay. That’s huge.”
Andre closes the folder against his palm.
“The invitation came through one of our European sponsors. A team dropped out, a slot opened up, and our name got put forward. Everything moved fast.”
“How fast?” Draygon asks.
Andre looks at him.
“We fly out in two days.”
The room goes quiet again.
I blink. “Two days?”
“Yep.”
Sayshen lets out a disbelieving laugh and drags a hand over his mouth. “Fuck me. Two days.”
Reign is already grinning, both hands pushing back through his hair. “Ireland. Fuck, this is gonna be sick.”
Talon looks over at him. “Isle of Man.”
Reign gives him a flat look. “You know what I fucking mean.”
“Do you?”
“Shut up.”
Thorne shifts his weight and looks back at Andre, excitement still there even if he’s trying harder than the others to act normal. “What exactly are we riding?”
“Bikes will be waiting for us. Specs, setup sheets, everything you need will be sent over today.” Andre taps the folder against his palm. “We’ll have limited time once we land, so nobody’s treating this like some vacation.”
His eyes move straight to Revel.
Revel slowly puts a hand to his chest. “Why the fuck are you looking at me like I’ve already done something?”
Andre gives him a look. “Because I’ve met you.”
A few of the guys laugh.
Revel shakes his head. “That’s profiling.”
“Accurate profiling,” Wolfe says from behind me.
Revel points at him. “See, normally I’d tell you to get fucked, but it’s basically your birthday, so I’m choosing maturity.”
Wolfe nods solemnly. “Very big of you.”
“Thank you. I’m growing.”
Talon snorts. “Debatable.”
Revel looks offended. “Why is everyone attacking me today?”
Andre shakes his head.
“Listen to me, because I’m only saying this once.”
That gets everybody quiet.
“The TT is not one of our normal weekends. You fuck up on a circuit, you usually have runoff, gravel, barriers designed to absorb impact. Over there, you’ve got stone walls, buildings, trees, curbs and roads that were never built for racing.”
The excitement in the room settles slightly.
Not gone, just sharpened.
Andre looks around the group.
“It is one of the most dangerous races in the world. I know every single one of you likes risk. It’s basically a fucking prerequisite for this team. But I need your heads screwed on straight for this.”
Talon nods first.
Andre continues. “No stupid shit. No trying to impress each other, or turning practice into a dick-measuring contest. You learn the course. You listen to the people who know it, respect the conditions, and if something feels wrong with the bike, you fucking say something.”
His eyes move to me.
“Which brings me to you.”
I blink. “Why does that sound threatening?”
A couple of the guys laugh.
Andre doesn’t.
“I want you coming with us.”
My brows lift.
“Me?”
He gestures toward the bikes behind us. “We’re going into unfamiliar territory with bikes you haven’t worked on before and almost no room for mistakes.
I want somebody with the team who knows these riders, knows what they complain about, and can tell the difference between an actual mechanical issue and Revel saying something feels weird because the moon is in fucking retrograde. ”
Revel looks offended. “That happened once.”
“It should’ve happened zero fucking times.”
I laugh.
Andre looks back at me. “You’ve proven yourself here. I trust you with the bikes and my riders. If something goes wrong, I want you there.”
That lands harder than I expect.
Not the trip, or even the race.
But the fact that Andre trusts me.
I’ve spent so much of my life feeling like the person who showed up after everything important already happened.
Late to my own family, to my brothers and this entire fucking world they built without me.
But Andre isn’t asking whether I belong.
He’s telling me I do.
I swallow past the stupid little lump trying to form in my throat.
“Okay,” I say. “Got it, I’ll make sure I’m ready,”
Sayshen grins beside me. “Oh shit, Sissy Shaw goes international.”
I elbow him. “Never call me that again.”