Page 37

Chapter twenty-three

Lennon

I poke my head out the door to watch the floats make their way down Main Street. Usually, I’d be standing with my friends who set up camp on the sidewalk in front of Dex’s bar another block over, but my heart isn’t in it today.

Aside from the fact that half the group is now made up of couples, they’d all be wearing their best red, white and blue outfits, reveling in the opportunity to dress up for the Fourth of July holiday.

Even though he was never here for a costume event, the top hats, light up blazers, and sparkly dresses are close enough to costumes to make my mind drift to Axel, and the way he seemed open to donning something ridiculous whenever the town found a reason to.

I spot Beck’s blond head drifting down the center of the street, surrounded by about a dozen little girls in flag inspired tutus.

He’s taught dance at the local studio for years, having grown up taking his mom’s classes as a child, and leads his little minions in a routine for this parade each year.

It’s one of the best floats—the little princesses are so preoccupied with grinning and waving they sometimes forget to dance—and I find myself smiling despite my apathy. Guess my heart isn’t all stone.

A few floats later, I see Blake with a group of little kids decked out in their mountain bike gear.

Between their pads and helmets, they’re so weighted down with equipment they can hardly wave, but they, too, seem to be enjoying themselves.

It’s the first time their little club has had a float, and no one seems to be eating it up more than Blake himself.

He randomly lifts kids in his arms and helps them wave at their parents, grinning from ear to ear.

Something about seeing my friends surrounded by little ones has me noticing how many families are around, and while I swear I’m not feeling anything like a biological clock—I don’t think guys have those—I am more aware than ever of the fact that I’d rather be watching this procession in Axel’s arms than from the little alcove leading to Murphy’s front door.

We were so close to… something. Commitment. A future. Then he had to go and shatter it by asking me for the one thing I swore never to compromise on. Damn him for getting my hopes up. Damn him for making me fall for him. Damn him for making me want him and no one else.

Town is full of tourists right now, men and women all looking for a good time, but I can’t even find the desire to look at anyone much less contemplate sharing a bed with them. I know it’s cliché, and I hate myself for even thinking it, but I have a nagging suspicion Axel ruined me for anyone else.

Love really is a bitch. Even when I didn’t let it control me, it threatens to ruin everything.

Did I screw up? I forfeited one future for another, but was that wrong?

I’m not sure how it could be seeing as I kept a promise I made to myself.

Yet that promise never made me feel as empty as I do now, which makes me wonder if it would’ve been better to break it.

Too late, Lennon. What’s done is done. With a heavy sigh, I retreat inside to get ready for the rest of the day, knowing it’s futile to keep asking that question.

Once the parade is finished and the crowd breaks up, people start to trickle in for lunch.

Blake, Ryder, and Deacon take their usual spots at the counter and order beers, though by the look of it, Ryder’s already had his fill.

I wonder briefly if I should refuse, but when I realize he looks how I feel, I make a mental note to monitor him and set a pint in front of each of them.

Beck rushes in having finished his float duties and stands next to me behind the bar as he ties on his serving apron. “Is it weird that after herding all those littles around serving tables feels like it’ll be relaxing?” he asks me.

“Not to me. Then again, you all keep telling me it’s not normal to like work as much as I do.”

“You’re right, I should ask someone else.” He jogs off to where the guys are sitting at the end of the bar to pester them with his philosophical musings. It almost brings a smile to my lips. At least someone is happy around here.

Behind the bar I zone in on work, mixing and serving drinks on autopilot as the comfortable hum of half a dozen conversations fill my ears.

I don’t really hear them, I just know they keep the silence away.

Which in turn, keeps my mind from conjuring up memories of Axel.

It’s an effective way to keep the heartbreak at bay, until suddenly his name is echoing around me.

I spin around, searching for the source only to realize it’s coming from behind me and over my head, filtering from the TV mounted behind the bar .

“After an incredible start a few weeks ago, reigning champ, Axel Olsen, floundered, failing to finish his last competition,” an announcer says.

“That’s right, Teddy,” another man agrees, “and that’s a big deal because each event counts toward your overall score. Last week’s low score ate into his comfortable lead, and another poor showing will force him to claw back from behind.”

“That’s uncharacteristic for Axel, isn’t it? He’s typically a consistent rider.”

“Well, everyone has good and bad days, but you’re right Teddy, a bad day for Axel typically means a score in the high eighties, not the high sixties.”

The camera cuts to Axel, sitting on his bike as he waits his turn, and though I’ve only ever seen him in this position once, I can easily tell that his posture is different. Rigid when it should be relaxed.

“Worried about your boy?” Blake’s voice jerks my gaze from the TV.

“He’s not mine.” I spin away from the screen and start washing glasses to keep my hands busy.

I catch Blake’s eyebrows lift from the corner of my eye. “You sure about that?”

“Yes, actually. I’m sure things between us have run their course.”

“I disagree,” Deacon pipes up. Shit, I thought he was too busy ogling the table of girls across the room to be paying attention. “If he was done with you, his riding wouldn’t be suffering, but it is.”

“The announcer just said everyone has bad days.” I take the order ticket one of the servers hands me.

“He also said Axel’s bad days are the equivalent of a good day for other riders.” Blake smiles coyly.

“He did not say that. ”

“Not in those words, no. But that’s what he meant. We watch enough of these competitions to know.” Deacon gestures between him and Blake. I look to Ryder for support, but he’s staring vacantly at the screen.

“Don’t pin Axel’s successes or failures on me.” I fill a pint glass with beer and set it on a serving tray.

“Are you saying there’s no correlation between the fact that he pulled off the highest score in the history of the sport while you were there with him?” Deacon scoffs.

“Do you even know what correlation means?” I snap.

He shoots me a wounded look. “Just because I dig dirt for a living doesn’t make me an idiot. I spent four years in college to earn a piece of paper that says I’m pretty good at it.”

“Sorry.” I run a nervous hand through my hair. “I just don’t like you guys accusing me of messing with Axel’s career.”

“We’re not accusing you of anything.” Blake shakes his head solemnly. “We are suggesting that he seems off, and the timing of that correlates with you coming back here.”

“And your point is?” I reach for a cocktail shaker just as one of my servers places a full drink on the bar.

“This was supposed to be a lager, not an IPA.” She bites her lip and blinks at me.

“Shit.” I set the full glass in front of Blake and put a lager on the girl’s tray.

“The point is,” he continues, “I think you had a bigger impact on him than expected.”

“Even if that’s true, I can’t do anything about it.”

“Can’t, or don’t want to?” Blake’s challenge makes my breath catch in my throat.

“Why are you guys on my case about this? ”

“In case you haven’t noticed.” Deacon points at the beer sitting in front of Blake. “You’re off your game, same as your boy.”

“I messed up one drink,” I grumble, reaching for another order ticket.

“That’s just as rare for you as his low score is for him.” Deacon tips back the last of his beer and holds out his glass for a refill. I snatch it with an eye roll and fill it from the tap on the wall before turning my attention to the next order.

“And here we go, Axel Olsen is ready to take his run.”

“Hey man, remember Axel? He’s up.” Blake nudges Ryder and points at the TV. Ryder’s eyes seem to focus slightly, as if he’s reaching for a memory he can’t quite grasp. Then he nods his head a fraction.

I follow his gaze and stare up at the screen just in time to see the first jump. Axel twists in the air so his body is closer to the ground than the bike itself, for a second anyway, then he rights it and lands cleanly on the downslope of the jump.

The rest of the run flows much like it did when I was there, but on the last jump the bike wobbles so bad on the landing that he’s forced to hop off it sideways before it topples over.

I slap my hand to my mouth as soon as I realize he’s in trouble, exhaling slowly as he throws his helmet down and seems to walk in circles without any pain.

“Fuck.” Ryder surprises me by speaking, something I haven’t really heard him do since he lost his brother. Then the empty gaze is back as he holds out his glass for a refill. Maybe just one more.

“Does that mean his season is over?” I look to the guys as I give Ryder his drink.

“Not necessarily, but it’ll be hard to win the whole thing if he doesn’t figure out how to stay on his bike for a full run by the next event,” Blake says.

“Well, he’s a pro, so I’m sure he’ll be fine,” I say, not knowing if I’m trying to convince Blake or myself.

“It doesn’t work like that.” We all spin to face Ryder, mouths hanging open. Has he been paying attention this whole time?

“What doesn’t work like that?” I set my hand on his arm and crouch lower to try to meet his downward cast eyes.

“Grief. You can’t just decide not to feel it. And it’ll trump his love of riding until it goes away. If it ever does.”

Of all the times in my life I thought my heart would beat out of my chest, none compare to the heavy thud pounding inside me right now.

“Ryder, like I said, Axel’s a pro,” I insist. “Even if he misses me, he wouldn’t let that interfere with his career.”

“Told you it doesn’t work like that,” Ryder mumbles. “Time doesn’t wait.”

“I think that’s our cue to get him home,” Blake says to Deacon, who nods in return.

Deacon wraps an arm around Ryder’s waist and helps him to the door while Blake fishes for his wallet.

“Don’t.” I wave him away. “It’s on the house.”

Blake nods and starts to go, then turns back to me. “You know, just cause he’s drunk as shit doesn’t mean he’s wrong.”

“I know, I know. You already said Axel’s off his game. Obviously, Ryder agrees.” I wipe my forehead with the back of my wrist, mopping up the anxious sweat I can feel gathering at my hairline.

Blake shakes his head. “Ryder doesn’t think Axel’s off, he thinks he doesn’t care anymore. There’s a difference.”

“What am I supposed to do about that?” I set my hands on my hips.

"If things have really run their course, nothing. But from where I’m sitting, you guys still have some shit to figure out.”

“If that’s what Axel wants, he knows where to find me. ”

“Everyone knows where to find you, Lennon. Maybe that’s the problem.” He gives me a sad smile.

“What are you saying?” I pull my brows together.

“I’m saying there’s a big world outside this restaurant, and he seems like a good guy to have in it.”

I let my eyes drift back to the TV as Blake walks away, just in time to see a clip of Axel and I standing together after the first race.

There are people hovering around us, looking for an opening to talk to him, but his eyes are focused on me, same as mine are on him, leaving no doubt how we feel about each other. What I walked away from.

Will I ever have that again?

A month ago, the answer wouldn’t have mattered. Then again, a month ago I didn’t think I was capable of falling in love.

I think back to what Ryder said as he was leaving. Time doesn’t wait . Does that mean I’ve already missed my chance, or do I still have time to admit maybe I was wrong?