Chapter 36
Leesa
The finish area was a crush of bikes and bodies, media crew and support staff and heaving, exhausted riders. Squeezing through the crowd, I kept my desperate gaze on the tall figure of Chris, the swannie, up ahead, pushing people out of the way as he barrelled towards the finish line.
My cheeks were cold with tears. I’d barely been able to watch Colin drag himself up the mountain.
Right now I just had to get to him, make sure he was all right and then kiss him and shake him for a stunt that had taken years off my life – and inspired so much pride and heat and admiration I didn’t know what to do with it.
Chris parted the crowd just in time for me to see him with his head bowed over the handlebars, up out of the saddle, pushing once, twice, and toppling over the finish line, unclipping a foot to catch himself.
God, he’d done it. I only hoped it hadn’t cost him too much.
He fell right onto his ass when he dismounted, leaving Nellie to grab the bikes while Chris dragged Colin to one side. He glugged down a recovery drink and then most of a bidon, scrunching his face up with pain as his body slowly wound down.
I stared at him, taking in all the familiar lines of his face, the freckles that only showed up when he was bathed in sweat.
I didn’t know what I was going to do when I couldn’t see his face every day.
That was the thought that propelled me forward, even though I didn’t know what was best for either of us – or if he even wanted to see me.
‘Colin.’
His gaze snapped up. Despite his exhaustion, he straightened, lifting a shaking hand to my hair as I crashed to my knees in front of him.
‘Colin.’
I finally had his face in my hands, his name on my lips and tears streaming down my face.
‘Shhh,’ he responded, a smile tugging at his lips. ‘C’mere, Kubicka,’ he rasped, curling his hand into my hair and pulling me closer.
This was my kiss at the finish line, aching and fearful, tender, sweeping and heady.
His breath on my lips was choppy, his hand stayed tight on my head, holding me where I was as he used all his remaining energy to keep his mouth on mine, sharing adrenaline, endorphins – that moment in time that was only ours and would always be ours.
No matter what happened, how much this hurt when I left, I was glad I loved him – right now.
It couldn’t last. He probably shouldn’t have used his last energy for a kiss anyway and when he drew away with a groan, blinking as though he was trying not to black out, I felt faintly guilty.
He opened his mouth to speak, mumbling groggy words that were not what I expected. ‘Have we ever held hands?’
Flashes from the past few weeks rose in my mind, but not one where we’d done that. ‘I don’t think so.’
I was about to ask him why he wanted to know, offer to hold his hand, but he continued, ‘Like those jellyfish, the ones that are made up of different creatures holding hands.’
Perhaps he wasn’t entirely conscious. ‘A siphonophore?’ I clarified, peering at him in concern. ‘They don’t exactly hold hands.’
His eyelids drifted closed and he leaned back on the barrier behind him. ‘You’re so fucking clever. That’s exactly what I mean.’
‘Colin, why are you talking about jellyfish?’
He didn’t answer, but Chris spoke, interrupting whatever the moment had been. ‘We should get him to a hospital.’
*
My fingernails were bitten-down stubs and I’d only been able to swallow two bites of dinner. Amir, who’d grabbed another bike and just managed to finish within the time cut, Derek, Nellie and the others had all been subdued as they tried to eat as well.
Now I was pacing my room, wondering who I should call to find answers and peering out of my window – not at the darkened silhouettes of the mountains but at the street, waiting for a team car to return either with or without Colin.
When a vehicle finally pulled up, I pressed my nose to the pane, fogging the glass as I tried to identify who was getting out. I needn’t have worried. I’d have recognised those shoulders anywhere.
He was walking. No sign of a bandage – or a cast. He was back at the hotel – surrounded by Angie and the medical staff, but he was back.
My vision blurred for a moment with relief. But it didn’t mean he was still in the Tour.
I would be heartbroken for him if he had to abandon and I would have been crossing everything for him if I’d been as superstitious as the average cyclist. But my parents were doctors and would be horrified at me crossing any body part for a medical outcome, so all I could do was prepare myself to be heartbroken with him, if that’s the answer he’d gotten.
Snatching up my phone to send him a message, the screen flashed up before I’d even unlocked it. A message from Colin, but all he sent was: Sorry.
My stomach flipped as my negative brain immediately assumed he was out of the race.
What are you sorry for?
Biting my lip as I read over the message, I wanted to rush down the corridor to the room he was sharing with Amir to make sure he didn’t misunderstand, but I didn’t want to disturb the doctors and realistically, he was probably butt-naked again by now.
His reply arrived mercifully quickly: Everything.
Are you finally apologising for all the insects?
Don’t eat the cornflakes tomorrow.
I grinned, even though nobody could see me except maybe the five spiders that were within three feet of me at any one time, now relieved we seemed to back in Banterville, our home town. I didn’t know what to do with a serious Colin.
I wasn’t sure what to write back. Asking him how he was sounded trite by text.
Can you please tell me you were impressed today, Magda?
In Banterville, I suspected a joke would pep him up more effectively than the truth of my nail-biting.
Just a sec. I’m bidding on your race-worn.
The fan auction of today’s ripped and stained jersey would probably go higher than my annual salary.
His reply came immediately: Stop making me laugh. It hurts.
After more hesitation, the dots coming and going a few times, he wrote: You can have the race-worn. Put it under your pillow when you sleep.
That sounded more like the Colin I knew.
I’m glad you’re mostly conscious now. For a moment there, I thought you wanted to retrain as a marine biologist.
The jellyfish thing is kind of hard to explain by text.
I figured as much. Shouldn’t you be listening to the doctors or something?
They’re whispering about me in the corner.
The shot of nerves was cold when I thought about the medical advice from the team doctors.
I’m bored actually. Wanna come keep me company?
There was no way I could say no to that casual invitation, but I strung him along for a moment. I’m not entertaining you already?
Just get in here.
Will I be mentally scarred by the sight of you?
You weren’t before. I’m waiting!
So bossy!
I wouldn’t let him guess that I skipped down the corridor, but I slowed my steps when I saw Tony standing outside, speaking to Alan. They looked up – guiltily, if I had to judge – when they saw me.
‘He, uh, asked to see me,’ I volunteered before anyone asked.
‘O’ course he did,’ Tony said, his smile tightening.
‘What? Have they finished the tests? Have they found anything?’
Tony hesitated, which wasn’t good.
‘What?’
‘The scan didn’t show a clear break, but there could be bruising or a hairline fracture in the lower arm. We’re just not sure it’s best if he continues with the Tour. It was a heavy crash.’
I’d seen the replay. Tony wasn’t wrong.
‘I thought something had gone wrong with the two of ya,’ Tony added, his eyes a little wild.
Giving half a nod in a non-answer, I just said, ‘Nothing was ever “right”, but I seem to be here anyway.’
He just studied me in response, for long enough to seed prickles at my hairline. ‘You goin’ in? You might want to prepare yourself.’
‘I’m familiar with the amount of nudity in this sport,’ I responded wryly, but Tony didn’t smile.
‘I meant his face.’
With a gulp and a tense nod, I stepped cautiously inside – stopping short when I caught sight of him sprawled shirtless on the bed.
There was an ugly lump slowly turning purple above his left eye, one part dressed with gauze and medical tape.
He had cuts and scratches everywhere I looked, which really was everywhere, because my eyes were drawn to all the familiar bits of his body.
‘You summoned me,’ I said.
His face brightened in an instant as he turned to me. I searched his expression for some gentle mocking, finding none, which was disconcerting.
He snagged my T-shirt and tugged until I was closer. ‘My best idea all day.’ There was a lightness in his tone, as though he truly meant what he said. Maybe we weren’t in Banterville after all.
‘What’s up with you?’
He looked away with a self-deprecating chuckle. ‘A few things became clear when I was flat on my back on the mountain today,’ he explained, his voice gravelly. ‘We’ve known each other a long time, haven’t we?’
‘We have.’ I wasn’t sure what else to say in reply. ‘A lot of years of pranks.’
I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen that smile before. It was playful, yes, but also… vulnerable? ‘Did you hate it? Hate me?’
That he seemed to expect an answer put me off balance. ‘I never hated you. Some of your pranks went too far.’
‘Fair,’ he said, crossing his arms.
‘Some of them were funny,’ I admitted without really meaning to. ‘At least they are with hindsight. Why? Are you giving it all up?’
‘I thought about it.’ Peering at me, a smile grew on his face. ‘But the truth is, I like pranking you.’
Heat rose to my cheeks.
‘And I think maybe if you trust me, you’ll like me pranking you too.’
‘Trust is a big word,’ I blurted out, my lungs suddenly tight. It was just as big as the word that seemed to be growing roots in my feelings about him – maybe even bigger.
‘I know,’ he said softly. ‘It’s just that I don’t want to prank anyone but you, Kubicka.’
I couldn’t say anything in reply, my thoughts swimming, too much hope and confusion and dismay.
‘I’m just giving you fair warning,’ he said, peering at me with half a smile that suggested he had some idea of the stricken feelings creating a cocktail in my chest.
‘Avoid the cornflakes tomorrow. I remember,’ I squeaked, trying to find even ground between us.
‘And don’t forget to check your socks,’ he added in a whisper.
Tony and Alan had slipped into the room and Colin glanced at them before beckoning me even closer and lifting his hand, holding it a foot above the bed.
‘Jellyfish,’ was all he said at first, shaking his hand at me.
While I wasn’t certain about the metaphor, it was clear what he wanted. I opened my fingers and pressed my palm to his.
His rough, warm hand closed around mine, strong fingers, thick knuckles, a callus or two. After a few heartbeats where he studied our hands as intently as I did, he jimmied his fingers between mine.
My breath stalled as the raw intimacy of the gesture crept over me. Even when he’d held me and got in my head during sex, I hadn’t felt this close to him.
Feeling his eyes on me, I met his gaze for a quick smile and then he shifted, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat to catch Tony’s attention. His dad’s eyes fell immediately to our joined hands, but his only reaction was a quick lift of his brow.
‘I appreciate your concerns, but this is my Tour and I want to start tomorrow. I have no interest in running myself into the ground. I’ll abandon if and when I need to. But I’m lining up tomorrow morning – and hopefully every morning until Paris. We’re not done yet.’