20. Cole
“Max checked out a long time ago. Let her go. There are plenty of other girls.” Blake gestures his chin up toward the stands. A group of early twenty-something-year-old women showed up an hour ago to watch us ride. For his sake, I hope they’re at least eighteen.
It’s supposed to rain and I can already feel the dew in the air. It should scare the girls off and probably Blake. He’s only here to further fuck up my life. Rain or shine, I’m riding. I need to stay focused.
“You can have them.” I palm the sweat off my face and pull my multi-colored—red variant—Bell helmet over my ears.
Going home to an empty house or to Mom Dad’s would be worse than riding till my death. Except for Ri. She’s the best reason to leave the dirt. I’ll pick her up later, read her a bedtime story, and sleep on my makeshift bed next to hers. Being next to her feels like I still have a part of Max with me. Riding keeps my mind busy the rest of the time.
“I need a wingman. Don’t hold out on me. Trust me, it’s to your benefit.”
“Last time I listened to your advice Max almost murdered five people.” I adjust my goggles, sitting on my bike, and resting my arms on the handlebars. Blake stands next to his red CRF250X. He only got a bike because of the girls. Luckily for him, the girls he’s attracting are content with him standing next to it like the fuckboy he is. It’s not at all surprising that he’s still using it to get pussy. Some people never change. …Some people never change. I unintentionally run my thumb over the permanent circle wrapped around my fourth finger.
“Five people?”
“Yeah, dumbass.” My attention snaps back to him. “Me, you, Hunter, and those two dancers.” I tighten the D-ring under my chin, adjusting my goggles to place.
“Oh, that was nothing.” He brushes it off.
“Tell that to Hunter. He’s never setting foot in my house again even if Max doesn’t live there.” A cocky smirk pulls half of his face. “I’m going back out there. Have fun with your fans.”
I press the electric start and his last words make it past the growing sound. “Fulfilling their breeding kinks with my sterile sperm.”
Till the day he finds out, he’s not as sterile as he thinks.
Accelerate.
Clutch.
Go. Faster.
Hit the whoops.
Focus.
Focus, focus.
I can’t...I don’t want to quit her. My blood would run cold before I gave up on her coming back, realizing she fucked up. She’ll come crawling back when she realizes how hard it is to be on her own.
Won’t she?
I need her.
She saw me for everything I hid from everyone else.
I need her.
Where is she now?
I need her.
Tell me this is a cruel joke.
Why isn’t she here?
I want her to hear her voice.
I want to wake the fuck up.
Fuck! I need to get out of my head. This isn’t working anymore. And if riding doesn’t help...what will?
Pulling off the side of the track, I lay my bike down and tear off my goggles, whipping them down to the dirt. I spiral out, squatting as I pull my helmet off. My hair mats in sweat, dripping down my forehead.
There are three things in this life that I never want to live without — motocross, Riley, and Max. I never thought losing one would affect all the other two, but my eyes are open as the rain runs down my salty skin.
Wiping the back of my gloved hand across my face, I tug my helmet back on, pick up my goggles, and get back on the bike. Failure isn’t an option. I need to win. I’m going to win.
With or without Max.
A half-empty glass. The liquid tunnels and I keep shaking it. I’m inside that tunnel. I don’t want to listen to Mom blame Max or Carly talk about her new boyfriend, but I’m at this table forced to listen.
“Hey, champ.” Dad pats my arm, taking a seat next to me. “How was it today?”
“Huh?”
“At the track, Cole.” Nearing brows wake me up.
“It went well.”
My parent’s house has an excelled level of comfort lately. From the cherry dining table to the lavender embellished curtains above the kitchen sink, I’m transported to my childhood. It’s fine till I get flashes of Max tip-toeing up the steps behind Mom’s back. I sat at this table many nights watching her glide past, change her torn-up shorts, and walk back down for dinner as if she was upstairs all afternoon. She would sit right here…across from me, where Riley now sits. Mom passes a bowl of mashed potatoes to me and I glance over at Ri. She has a full plate. Mom has been doing more than I ask and if I’m being honest with myself, I need help with her right now. I’m not about to act ungrateful, calling her out for running her mouth. It fucking embarrassing…having your mom talk shit about your soon-to-be ex-wife. “I used the rain as an opportunity to work on mud riding.” I push the bowl away and reel in another—sweet corn fresh off the cob. Too bad I’m not that hungry.
“Smart. You never know when a wrench will get thrown into the plan. Always be prepared.” He takes a spoonful of his mashed potatoes in before passing the bowl to Carly, who already had her plate loaded. She’s lost weight. The baby fat she used to hold has slipped away, replaced by more pronounced cheekbones. I hope she’s not starving herself to give money to some douchebag for beer, weed, and a get-rich-quick scheme. She’s always falling in love with losers. “Excellent, honey,” Dad nods. “Did you add that new garlic seasoning?”
“I did. Do you like it?”
He nods again, giving her a thumbs up. That’s as deep as his emotions get. Typical compliments, structured advice, and calm gestures.
“You’re riding Saturday, right?” Carly asks.
“Yeah,” I reply, licking food from my teeth.
“It’ll be my first time at a race this year.”
Why is she chirpy? It’s one race.
“Being a geologist seems like a busy job,” I sneer, my tired eyes holding her.
“I travel a lot.” She smiles, but I know that glare. She’s lying.
“What was the last place you were at?” I push.
“New Mexico,” she hesitates, tucking a loose curl back.
“And how long are you staying?” Because I can’t wait till you leave again.
“Um, a week.”
Hmm. Interesting.
“And then where are you going?”
“New York.” She reaches for the corn and adds a scoop to her plate before finishing her carbs. She better not be doing one of those stupid diets. I can’t stand her…nor can I stand to see her fucked over. “To visit my boyfriend.” Her head bobbles as the snotty little brat would. “Jason. You’ll love him.” She faces Mom because she’s the only one at this table that needs to be impressed. “He’s a pilot.”
“Oh, you found a sugar daddy finally? Tell him your talented brother has space for another sponsor.”
“Colson!” Mom scolds. And for the first time in a long time, I don’t fucking care. This week has been a shit show and I’m tired.
“Food was good.” I put my hands on the table, pushing my chair back. “I’ll be in the garage looking at Dad’s four-wheeler.”
“Appreciate it, Cole. Check the plugs.” He continues eating, oblivious to my irritation.
“Colson.” Mom glares at me as I walk by, messing up Riley’s hair. She smiles and wrinkles her little nose.
Dad’s garage is always kept, making it easy to find what I need in the dual bay shop. If I couldn’t find the basic part or tool I need within the red boxes that line the wall, it would be shocking. I don’t waste any time, hastily finding what I need to turn off the noise between my ears.
Working on replacing the spark plugs, I glance up when I hear the door squeak.
“What were you trying to do in there?” Big sister with her hands on her hips, ready to mouth battle.
“Figured I’m drowning, might as well take you down too.” I walk back to the toolbox, tossing the old plugs on the tray.
“I didn’t do a damn thing to you, asshole.”
“I know you’re full of shit, Carly. You weren’t in New Mexico.” Getting back to work, there’s not much she can say to convince me otherwise.
“How would you know where I was at?”
“Because I listened to you lie to her for years.” With a quick glance, I raise my brows at her.
“Well, what about you? You’re getting a divorce.” Put a bullet in my head, Carly.
“Thanks for telling me. I didn’t know.”
She looks around both bays before making her way to the Raptor a few feet away, straddling the blue four-wheeler, and playing with the handles.
“You are petty as fuck,” she finally groans.
“Oh no,” I deadpan. “Carly said a bad word. I’m telling Mom.”
Her mouth twists with hate. “Cole, you suck.”
“So I’ve heard. I’m a terrible husband, an inadequate son, and suck as a brother.”
She sighs, dramatically. “I quit my job…again. I hated it, but I do have a boyfriend who is a pilot. He flies private mostly…and…I started seeing a therapist.”
I glance up, considerably shocked this time. “You’re going to therapy?”
“I never thought I had something to talk about, but I do. It has a name. She called it generational trauma.”
I don’t need the label to know what she’s talking about. Burying myself back in my task, I don’t want to talk about my feelings with her or her shrink, if that’s what she’s getting at…yet…I exhale. “What does that mean? In psychiatric terms?”
“You know how Mom is meticulous about reputation and upholding this unspoken standard? Grandma is the same. Warrens have to be the perfect example. We have to give to the community, we have to…you know how it is.” Her doc couldn’t have explained it this way. “We have to color in lines and I’ve never wanted to.”
Yeah. That’s how I’ve felt my entire life. Max was a safety vest that kept me afloat when I was sinking. I always told her that she needed me. I saved her when she had nobody, but that’s not the truth and it’s why I feel like I can’t breathe. At the kitchen table, concreted in my seat, I ate like a robot, going through the motions on an empty stomach that felt full. Detached, I use motors to keep me moving, to keep my brain from hyper-focusing on the black hole. I needed Max. I need her.
“You’re not alone, Cole.”
My silence annoys her, but I have nothing to say. Nothing I’d admit out loud. I lean against the rear end of the utility quad I’m working on, pulling my phone from my pocket. Max is still on the lock screen, holding Riley on the wooden bench at Noon Valley, in front of the pumpkin patch. I took it last fall.
I should change it.
“You’re not going to find anything new on there.”
My eyes flick to her. “On what? I’m not—”
“You’re checking all her accounts. I bet you’re constantly looking for a text you missed or rereading old ones. Come on, Coley. When was the last time you were happy? Like genuinely happy,” she asks.
I go back to avoiding her. If she makes sense…I don’t want her to. I don’t care how…toxic or whatever our relationship was.
“Cole.”
“What Carly!” I snap. “You told me we had a once-in-a-lifetime love! Do you remember that? Look where that love got me. I don’t want your fucking advice.”
“Don’t put the blame on me. You and Max do have that love. It’s unconditional and raw. You both love so hard, but this is how you handle your problems. You take them out on people close to you. The people you trust and can be completely yourself with, never worrying if you’re upholding the reputation of a Warren.”
My head hangs, holding onto the thought before I speak. “She’s not coming back.”
“Did you ever think that if you worked on yourself, maybe she would? Because if I know Max, she didn’t want to leave. I don’t believe the story Mom is pushing. Max loves you and if she left, it was because she had to.” She hops up, hastily wrapping her arms around me. “I love you, Cole. You can call me whenever you need to.”
I hug her back, not realizing how badly I need it.
“Also, Mom is trying to set you up on a blind date, so now would be a good time to tell her to butt out of your life,” she adds.
Pulling away in disbelief, I could laugh it’s that insensitive. My divorce isn’t even close to final.
“She’s acting like you’re widowed or something.”
“Send her to fucking therapy. The woman has issues.”
And Carly is right. I should have set boundaries years ago. I should have listened to Max. It took her leaving for me, moving away, and going through with…putting our marriage to an end to understand her…I wish it didn’t. If I could go back in time…I can’t go back in time.