Chapter 17
?
— Colt —
I’d never been more nervous in my life, which was ridiculous. I’d been riding since I was four years old, had taught dozens of prospects over the years, had ridden through situations that should have killed me. Two kids on dirt bikes in a controlled field should have been nothing.
But these weren’t just any kids. These were my sons. And their mama was watching from the edge of the field, arms crossed, ready to swoop in and end everything if I screwed up.
“Okay.” I crouched down in front of the boys, who were still vibrating with excitement. “First things first. What’s the most important rule?”
“Helmets!” Knox shouted.
“Listening to you!” Luca added.
“Both good answers.” I picked up the helmets I’d brought—kid-sized, top of the line, nothing but the best for my boys. “Helmets first, always. Never get on a bike without one. That’s non-negotiable.”
“What’s non-negotiable?” Knox asked.
“Means it’s not up for arguing or discussion. Ever.”
Luca’s chin lifted. “Helmets. Non-negotiable.”
“Helmets, non-negotiable,” Knox echoed.
I helped Knox strap on his helmet, checking the fit, making sure it was snug but not too tight. Then Luca’s. Both boys stood there looking like little astronauts, grinning at each other.
“Now. These bikes—” I gestured to the two small dirt bikes I’d borrowed from Handful, who’d got them for his nephews.
“—are designed for beginners. Low power, easy to control. But they’re still machines, and machines need to be respected.
You don’t mess around, you don’t show off, you don’t do anything I haven’t taught you. Understood?”
“Yes,” they chorused.
“Good. Let’s start with the basics.”
I spent the first hour not letting them ride at all. Just sitting on the bikes, learning the controls. Where the throttle was, where the brakes were, how to balance. They fidgeted and whined a little, but they did what I said.
“Can we actually ride now?” Knox finally burst out. “We know all the parts!”
“Knowing the parts and knowing how to use them are different things.” I stood back, hands on my hips. “But yeah, I think you’re ready for a slow lap. Knox, you’re up first. Luca, watch and learn.”
I walked beside Knox as he puttered around the field, going so slow a turtle could have beaten him. His face was scrunched with concentration, his small hands white-knuckled on the handlebars.
“Ease up on the grip,” I said. “You want to hold it, not strangle it. Relaxed hands give you better control.”
Knox adjusted, and the bike smoothed out. A grin spread across his face. “I’m doing it! I’m doing it! I’m riding!”
“You’re doing great, buddy. Keep your eyes forward, watch where you’re going, not where you’ve been.”
By the time we finished the lap, Knox was beaming so hard I thought his face might split. “That was amazing! Can I go again? Can I go faster?”
“Let your brother have a turn first. Then we’ll see about faster.”
Luca was more cautious than Knox—he approached the bike like it might bite him, climbed on carefully, tested the controls twice before he tried moving.
It was a reversal of their usual roles. But once he got going, something clicked.
His natural instincts kicked in, and by the end of his first lap, he was handling the bike like he’d been doing it for months.
“You’re a natural,” I told him, and watched his face light up with pride.
We spent three hours in the field. By the end, both boys were doing laps on their own, still slow, still careful, but confident. Happy. Alive in a way I’d never seen them before.
Lilac was still watching from the edge of the field, but at some point her crossed arms had relaxed. Indira had appeared beside her—I hadn’t clocked when—the two of them standing close at the fence line. Lilac was almost smiling.
“One more lap!” Knox begged. “Please, just one more!”
“Your mama’s the boss. Ask her.”
Both boys turned to Lilac, identical expressions of pleading on their faces.
“One more,” she called out. “Then we’re going home. You’ve got reading homework.”
They groaned but didn’t argue, taking off for one final lap around the field. I walked over to where Lilac was standing, keeping my distance but close enough to talk.
“They did good,” I said.
“They did.” She was watching them, her expression soft in a way I hadn’t seen before. “You’re good with them.”
“I’ve had practice. Not with kids, but—” I shrugged. “Teaching people to ride is teaching people to ride. Patience and repetition.”
“It’s more than that.” She finally looked at me. “You’re patient with them in ways that have nothing to do with bikes. You listen when they talk. You don’t dismiss them or talk over them. You treat them like people, not just children.”
I didn’t know what to say to that. “They are people.”
“I know. But not everyone sees it that way.” She paused. “A lot of adults don’t. They see kids and assume they don’t have thoughts or feelings that matter.”
“Their thoughts and feelings matter to me. They’re my sons.” The words still felt new, precious. “Everything about them matters to me.”
Lilac was quiet for a long moment. The boys finished their lap and came racing toward us, faces flushed, eyes bright.
“Did you see us?” Knox demanded. “Did you see how fast I went?”
“You weren’t supposed to go fast,” Lilac reminded him, but she was smiling.
“Faster than the first lap,” he amended. “That counts.”
Luca pulled off his helmet, his hair sticking up in all directions. “Can we come back again? Please?”
“We’ll see.” Lilac reached out and smoothed down his hair. “Let’s get you home and fed first. And you definitely need baths. You’re covered in dirt.”
“Battle dirt,” Knox announced proudly. “From riding.”
The boys watched as I loaded the bikes into my truck, then stood back as Lilac buckled them into her car. Before she closed Luca’s door, he looked at me.
“Thanks,” he said. “That was… that was really fun.”
“Anytime, kid.”
He nodded. “Maybe we can do it again? If that’s okay?” he asked, so quietly I almost didn’t hear it.
“It’s more than okay.” My voice came out rough. “I’d like that.”
Lilac closed the door and turned to face me. For a moment we just stood there, the setting sun casting long shadows across the field.
“Thank you,” she said. “The boys had a great time.”
“You don’t have to thank me. They’re my sons. Spending time with them isn’t a favor—it’s a gift.”
She studied my face like she was looking for something. I didn’t know if she found it. “Want to risk another round with them next weekend?” she asked finally.
“I’ll be here.”
She nodded once, then got in her car and drove away.
?
That night, I was nursing a beer at the clubhouse bar when Handful dropped onto the stool beside me.
“Heard the lesson went well.” He signaled for a drink. “Kids are naturals, according to my sources.”
“Your sources being Indira, who watched with Lilac?”
“Something like that.” He grinned. “Knox give you trouble with the throttle? My youngest nephew white-knuckles it every first lap. Takes him three or four laps to ease up.”
“Same problem. Talked him through it.”
“Good. Those bikes have some miles on them. They’ll treat the boys right. How’d it feel? Teaching your boys to ride?”
I took a long pull from my beer, trying to find words for what had happened today. The pride when they got it right. The fear when they wobbled.
“Like nothing I’ve ever felt before,” I admitted. “Like I finally understand why my old man was so hard on me about riding. He wasn’t trying to make me into a perfect rider. He was trying to keep me alive.”
“And now you’re doing the same thing for your kids.”
“Trying to.” I set down my beer. “They’re six and a half. I missed years, Handful. Years of firsts. First words, first steps, first day of school. I can’t get those back.”
“No,” he agreed. “But you can be there for the rest of them. First time on a bike. First time they beat you at cards—which, knowing you, won’t be long. First time they call you dad. First time they tell you they love you.”
“They’re not there yet.”
“They’ll get there.” He clapped me on the shoulder. “Bring them by the clubhouse sometime. My nephews love it here. Something about watching grown men act like idiots is apparently very relatable to boys.”
I almost smiled. “I’ll think about it.”
“And cut yourself some slack, brother. You’re doing good,” Handful said before picking up his beer and wandering off.
I hoped he was right. Because my boys were everything. They were worth every bruise to my ego, every moment of doubt, every night spent wondering if I was doing this right. They were worth it all.
?
Two days later, the boys came to the clubhouse for the first time.
It wasn’t planned. Lilac had a doctor’s appointment and Betty was at a church function, and somehow I’d become the backup childcare option.
At least, that’s what they told me. But Indira was usually in the office on a weekday, and she’d shown up here twenty minutes before Lilac. That told me this wasn’t quite as unplanned as they were making out.
Indira caught me working that out and gave me a look.
“Don’t make a big deal out of it,” she said. “She’s trying, for the sake of those boys. You need to let her do that without turning it into a moment.”
I closed my mouth. Good advice.
“She texted me,” she added. “I told her I’d be here.” She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t have to.
When Lilac pulled up, some of the tension in her face eased the moment she saw Indira standing with me in the parking lot.
“They’ve never been here before,” she said, her eyes moving over the building. “I’m trusting you to keep it… appropriate.”
“I’ll have Handful hide the porn and put away the weapons.” At her look, I held up my hands. “Kidding. Mostly. The guys know to be on their best behavior.”
“I’ll be here the whole time,” Indira said. “I’ve got them.”
Lilac’s expression changed. She looked at Indira for a long moment—something passing between them that I wasn’t part of—then nodded once.