Page 33

Chapter 33

APRIL

A group of about thirty riders waited outside Just Tri. Bicycles were nearby and loaded with water, electrolytes, and nutrition for a hundred-mile ride. It had been quite the turnout, which was great. There was better visibility for cars in numbers, but my eyes roamed over the crowd, looking for my coach.

We’d spent the last couple of weeks nearly inseparable since our relay. For the most part, it was lighthearted and fun. We trained together and took Chuck on walks. Gabriel taught me a little Spanish here and there and came over on a few of his days off to help replace my half-broken baseboards.

I got a new part in for his bike, and we hung out in my garage while I put it on. Gabe had convinced me to play my current audiobook over the Bluetooth speaker in my garage. My cheeks flamed for about half an hour straight until Gabe turned it off and carried me over his shoulder to the bedroom.

He took me to his favorite food trucks, was bossy about my water intake, and gave me mind-numbingly good massages that were only slightly painful. I was sure I’d never had as much fun with anyone else, but there was this nagging warning in the back of my mind—quiet but repetitive: This isn’t casual anymore.

I didn’t even know when we’d crossed the line of something more, but we had. Or I had, at least. It was like when you back up from your parking space at work after the longest day. Then suddenly, you are pulling into your driveway. You can’t remember a single stoplight or detail from the drive. All you know is you’re home.

I didn’t dare broach the subject with Gabe. After learning his apprehension for relationships was less about personal life preferences and more about protecting others, I felt this urge to help him realize there wasn’t anything wrong with him, but it would take baby steps. We’d have to ease into it bit by bit. Still, I was hopeful.

By the time I spotted Gabe in the crowd, he was already weaving his way toward me. The congestion outside the shop delayed our rendezvous. Then Dan, one of his athletes, intercepted him.

About an arm’s length from me, I could hear Dan say. “I saw Jamal. I’m going to ride like hell today, Coach.”

“Thanks,” Gabe said. “Just don’t overdo it. The last thing we need is an injury two weeks out from Ironman.”

Dan gave a little salute before guiding his bike away.

“Who’s Jamal?” I asked, looking in the crowd for a new face.

“He—” Gabe tried to get to me, but as he went to step forward, Ned pulled his bike between us and stopped to chat with another group of riders. “He’s on the board for Triple Threat. He lives in North Houston, so we rarely see him here.”

“What does him being here mean for you?”

Gabe shrugged. “Officially, nothing. But I’d be lying if I said I don’t feel a little bit of pressure to perform today.”

I nodded. “Like having a supervisor looking over your shoulder.”

Gabe laughed. “Exactly.”

“Okay, so what I’m hearing is that Team Torres is burning this century ride to the ground.”

“It’s okay, April. We can stick to the plan. A hundred miles is a long distance to go all out.”

“Okay, so we don’t go all out. We just push ourselves a little.”

His gaze pulled away from me, landing on Clay, who was guffawing with a man I didn’t recognize. “Is that him?” I asked.

Gabe nodded.

“Oh, yeah.” I walked around Ned’s bike, trying once again to make it to Gabe. “It’s happening.” I stopped short. The path was blocked by a ladder that had been left out—Trevor was trying to wrap up as much maintenance work as possible before he left. He still hadn’t found a replacement to run the shoe section, and he was paying for his guilt by running himself ragged at the shop. Honestly, I was starting to worry about what we’d do after Trevor left, but I’d never tell him that.

Undeterred by the obstruction, Gabe ducked right under the ladder to get to me.

I blanched.

His smile dropped when he looked at my face. “What?”

“You just walked under a ladder.”

His eyebrows furrowed before it clicked. “Oh! Shit.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Superstitious, right. I forgot that ladders are a thing.”

“Work with me, here, Gabe!” My fingers flew to the butterfly on my chest. I needed all the magic I could get. Unfortunately, the curves against my thumb did little to soothe the dread. “How are we supposed to do well when you are collecting bad luck? ”

“I’m sorry,” he said. “If it makes you feel better, I won’t ride with you today.”

“You’re damn right you won’t ride with me.” He frowned, but I continued. “You are going to go fast. Stop worrying about being a coach for a second and show off as an athlete.”

His frown was still in place. “I was looking forward to riding with you today.”

“Me too, but keep your eyes on the prize, Torres. You are so close to A-Team.”

He narrowed his eyes, considering. “Fine.” He reached over to fix my necklace. As his hand slid the clasp to my back, his deep voice rumbled by my ear. “But you are coming over tonight.”

Heat blossomed in my lower belly. “Deal,” I answered, breathless before the ride had even begun.

He smirked. “That is, if we make it back after the whole ladder thing.” I glared at him, but he kept going. “Who knows? A tsunami could engulf Texas.”

I laughed at the ridiculousness of it.

“Or a swarm of locusts could get us,” he continued.

“A rogue dust storm could roll in,” I added, and somehow, blowing my superstitions out of proportion made them seem silly, small.

Gabe laughed. “Exactly. Anything could happen.”

After hours of riding, I was over it. My ass hurt. My head felt like a bowling ball on my shoulders, and my legs were ready for me to pick a new hobby—I wondered if I’d be any good at cross-stitching or maybe knitting.

But I kept going, and I kept fighting the urge to slow down. I thought of all the times and ways Gabe had shown up for me. The least I could do was showcase his coaching abilities by holding my own.

“Rider up!” someone in our group called. I veered to the right to see. Of course, it was Gabe, kneeling in the grass as he checked out a wheel. The universe was cashing in on that bad luck. I thought of Clay somewhere ahead, trading jokes with Jamal, and sighed.

“I’ll help him!” I called.

I unclipped from my pedals and pulled over. “What happened?”

Gabe’s eyebrows popped up in surprise. “You’ve been hauling ass. I only just stopped a few minutes ago.”

My legs felt like they belonged to a wooden puppet as I knelt. It didn’t take long for me to locate the problem. A busted spoke waggled in the wind.

“See! I knew that fucking ladder would get us,” I grumbled as I went back to my saddle bag for supplies.

Gabe laughed. “It was a pothole, actually.”

I leveled him a look. “Hold the bike still for me,” I said before wrapping the loose spoke around a neighbor.

“Anything else you need?” Gabe asked. “I could hold your water bottle over your head so you can drink out of it like a gerbil.”

I barked out a laugh. “All I ask is that you avoid any other potholes or ladders on the way home.” I secured the spoke with a tie-wrap. “We can replace this as soon as we get back to the shop.”

“No more holes or bad luck. Got it.”

I watched a gust of wind roll through the field, then looked behind us in the direction it had come from. A dark wall of clouds loomed on the horizon. I straightened and dusted my hands on my sweaty tri-suit. “Did you happen to catch the weather today? ”

“Fifteen percent chance of rain.”

I nodded toward the sky behind him. “That doesn’t look like fifteen percent.”

Gabe turned. “We’d better get going. We’ve got what? Twenty more miles to beat that storm?” We both mounted our bikes. Gabe looked over at me. “Well, a busted spoke and a thunderstorm are still better than locusts, right?”

“It’s too early to count out locusts,” I grumbled.

For forty minutes, we booked it. But at mile ninety, we started feeling drops.

“This is going to get bad,” Gabe said. “Let’s stop there.” He nodded toward a barn that looked to have survived the Great Depression with its waist-high grass and leaning frame. The structure belonged in a horror film.

“Let me get this straight,” I panted, wiping my face on my shoulder, trying to get the raindrops off my lashes. “You wouldn’t let me ride my bike through a short stretch of woods after Billie’s party, but you’re okay with chilling in the Texas Chainsaw barn?”

Gabe laughed loud and deep. “I’m surprised you remember anything about that night.”

“Just bits and pieces,” I admitted.

“You’re right. I wouldn’t let you wander the woods alone . But there are two of us—safety in numbers.”

“I think the serial unaliver would just see us as a two-for-one deal.”

“Seeing as I walked under a ladder earlier, being hung on a meat hook seems like the next plausible event for us,” he deadpanned.

“I pick storm over meat hook.”

“Okay, come on. There’s a donut shop probably a mile or two down the road. But we’re going to have to move fast, okay?”

I nodded and pushed my already-worn legs.

Gabe wasn’t the only one to have thought of using the donut shop for shelter. A row of bicycles leaned against the front of the building and wrapped around the side. We picked an open spot toward the back and ran in—even though we were already thoroughly soaked.

The shop owner came from behind the counter with a pair of mismatched towels. “My wife brought a stack of these when I told her we had some wet cyclists in for donuts.”

“Thanks, Aaron.” Gabe handed one to me as Aaron talked about how much better his lats were feeling after Gabe’s massage. I laughed as I toweled off. The guy massaged the whole flippin’ town.

Semi-dry, Gabe and I sat in a booth together. I kept having to remind myself that Gabe was my coach here and not my fuck buddy, but when I shivered violently, he put a long arm over my shoulders. “Do you want me to call Trevor to pick you up?” he asked.

“No,” I said, teeth chattering. “We have less than ten miles.”

“I’d just hate for you to get pneumonia.” He cocked his head. “You know, since I stepped under that ladder.”

I opened my mouth to say something when Jamal stopped at our booth. I tried to slide out from under Gabe’s arm, but he held tight. I thought of our conversation at his apartment about emailing the board. Though I know he didn’t actually tell the board we were fucking, this felt like an equivalent. Or, at least, proof that he wasn’t worried about Clay telling on us.

“I don’t think I’ve introduced myself,” Jamal said, putting out a hand for me to shake. “I’m Jamal Hudson. I work for Triple Threat.”

I shook his hand, surprised he wanted to speak to me of all people. “April Baird,” I said, but I got the impression he already knew my name.

“Congratulations on your recent Ironman. I heard you made podium.”

“Oh.” I blushed. “Gabe and Beck are the ones who really carried the team.”

Jamal shook his head. “Now, don’t go underselling yourself. The bike is the longest stretch, and you held your own.” He smiled. “And when one of our athletes does good, it makes the whole team look good. So, thank you.”

Gabe’s dimples were out. The sight made my heart catch. “Well, I do have a pretty great coach.”

Jamal looked delighted. “There’s no denying that.” He eyed where Gabe’s arm draped across my shoulder. “You two stay warm and take it easy on the ride back. Only two weeks before race day.”

After Jamal was out of earshot, I turned to Gabe. It felt like the excitement would leap out of my chest, like one of those spring-loaded snakes in a can. “A-Team is totally yours!”

The power could have gone out, and Gabe’s smile would have kept the room illuminated. “I told you, April, you are doing an amazing job.”

“That’s it!” I squirmed out of his arm.

“Where are you going?”

“I have some money in my saddle bag. We’re celebrating with donuts.”

It was down to a sprinkle when I made it outside. I rounded the corner and nearly ran smack into Clay’s chest.

We both backed up. His eyes widened as he looked at me, then they darted away. “Excuse me,” he mumbled, stepping around me with red cheeks.

The reaction seemed weird, but I realized I’d probably just narrowly missed him peeing on the side of the building. They had bathrooms inside, but after eighty-odd miles, there’d been a constant line at the door.

Oh, to be a man and not have to wait in a restroom line. I rolled my eyes as I dug out a crumpled five from my saddle bag.

Two donuts later, the rain had stopped entirely. I was stiff but ready to close the distance between me, a hot shower, and Gabe’s bed. Just as the group started to take off, an athlete of Gabe’s asked him about that week’s training plan. Gabe waved me on.

It wasn’t like Gabe would have any trouble catching up to me, so I followed the group. We fell into line on the bike lane like a flock of birds. My right shoe snapped easily into my pedal. I shifted my weight to clip into the left side, but my foot found empty space. The world went sideways.

Wind whooshed past my ears, and my stomach flipped with a falling sensation. Colors blurred together until I hit the pavement rolling. Then, it was washed out by white-hot pain.

My back might as well have been tarred to the road. I couldn’t move, couldn’t even inflate my lungs after the hit. I gasped, trying to gulp for air like a fish on land.

When tires screeched across wet road, all I could do was squeeze my eyes shut and wonder if those were the last sounds my mom heard too.