Page 35

Chapter 35

APRIL

A s far as recovery went, Gabe was the best possible nurse. Sure, he was a little fussy about my water intake and changing my bandages often enough, but he made us tortilla soup and always had cut-up fruit and veggies nearby.

He tried to get me to stay home from work, but I didn’t have to explain to him that small-business owners rarely got the privilege to call in. After hours at the shop, I came home to him, and we watched a movie marathon with my head in his lap. He lightly stroked my hair while Chuck snored at my feet. It felt awfully domestic for a relationship that was supposed to be casual, and it gave me hope—a window into what could be.

The next day, I risked a look at my bike. It wasn’t as banged up as I feared. The frame had some scratches. Other than that, I just needed to replace the lost pedal.

I could have been hit by a car because a few miserable screws had come loose. I wondered how long I’d been riding with the pedal barely hanging on, and it made me feel like a shitty mechanic that I hadn’t felt a difference in the ride.

More than anything, the wreck had felt like a warning shot—one last chance to back out of Ironman. The idea made me nauseous, but it also gave me a sort of mad determination to finish what I’d started. I had come so far. This wasn’t going to be what stopped me. I was going to complete an Ironman or die trying.

I wasn’t the only one affected by the wreck. The dark circles under Gabe’s eyes told me that despite going to bed with me at a reasonable hour every night, he wasn’t doing much sleeping. Then there was the staring out into space over long periods of time, and the delayed responses—always a beat too late with his reactions.

I knew the feelings were a lot for him. So, I tried my best to create a safe space while he processed. I could be the calm while his mind and heart went to war.

Which is why I tried to talk him out of Clay’s party. The last thing he needed was to be bombarded with conversation and questions. However, he had his other athletes to think about. Ironman was only a week out. This would be the last time he’d see most of them before the big day. It’s not like he would impart some game-changing wisdom at the party, but it was about morale. That, I understood. So, when we got to the party, I led him to the kitchen, which had Trevor, queso, and fewer people. The only drawback to the location—it’s also where the elite crowd was hanging, meaning we were in for a debate about shoes or the aerodynamics of helmets or some other shit that would maybe add or shave off a whopping three minutes from your thirteen hours of racing.

“Why are you here?” I whispered to Trevor as Clay argued very animatedly with Ned. The excess from Clay’s sweatshirt flapped as he waved his arms .

“I came for the queso,” Trevor answered, dipping his chip into the bowl.

I dipped my own and took a bite of liquid gold. “Mmmm. Mkay. That might be worth this conversation.”

“Time will tell,” Trevor said, eyeing Clay. “Do you think they would notice if we walked off with the bowl?”

I nearly choked on my chip, and Gabe unscrewed a water bottle cap for me.

“Hey,” Trevor said, looking at Gabe. “I’m glad you’re here.” He dusted his hands on his shirt and stood up straight. “The no-kill shelter has room for Chuck now. So, let me know a day that works for you, and I’ll pick him up.”

Gabe’s chip stopped on the way to his mouth.

Chuck: my big-headed buddy. The one who snored and gave too many slobbery kisses and looked like he was smiling when he panted. No. There was no way he was going to a shelter, no-kill or not. I started to say I’d take him, but Gabe beat me to it.

“I’m sorry. I should have said something sooner, but I’m keeping Chuck.”

That moment when the sun breaks through the clouds after a storm—that’s how my heart felt.

Trevor smiled. “No need to apologize. I’m glad he found a home with a good guy.”

Those words might have seemed simple enough to someone else, but I watched the impact on Gabe. Maybe if enough people told him, he’d start to believe it.

Trevor’s attention flicked between Clay and Ned, who had moved onto the topic of shoes. “They really will argue to the death over any topic.”

“Trevor, don’t—”

But he was already joining the debate about the latest model of Hokas. I wasn’t going to survive the conversation without a buzz. “I need a beer.”

Gabe obliged, pulling options from the ice chest for me. Corona won. “It’s not a twist off.”

“Clay, where is a bottle opener?” I asked, not caring that I interrupted their argument.

His eyes roamed over the counter. “Someone must have grabbed the one I had out.” He pointed to a drawer across the kitchen. “There should be one in there,” he said before diving back into the argument.

I crossed the kitchen and checked the drawer Clay had pointed to. It was full of silverware, but no bottle opener was in sight. The next was Clay’s junk drawer. I started to close it, but something caught my eye—a random bike pedal.

I lifted it for inspection. Clay didn’t use that brand on his bike, but I did. I had the pedal’s twin at home. The hammering of my pulse drowned out the rest of the party.

A hand on my shoulder made me look up. Gabe’s eyes locked onto the pedal. He plucked it from my hand, eyebrows furrowed. I could see the gears already spinning—dots connecting.

“I—” I covered my mouth with my hand as I recounted what happened right before my wreck. “At the donut shop. Clay had been by my bike. While we were inside.” Suddenly, the embarrassment on Clay’s face made perfect sense. He had almost been caught—but not peeing on the building. He’d tampered with my bike.

I watched the information click in Gabe, but instead of a lightbulb turning on, it was like one shutting off.

“Gabriel?” I asked, my chest heaving .

I watched his jaw work, watched him struggle to keep his emotions in check. Finally, he pivoted.

“Gabe, wait!”

“It’s fine,” he said. “We’re just going to talk.” His voice was a forced calm. The anger thrashed beneath though, like a jungle cat restrained by ropes.

The guys were still arguing over shoes when Gabe tossed the pedal on the island. It slid across the granite until it stopped in front of Clay.

“Why do you have that?” The question hadn’t been asked in an accusatory manner, but I noticed the way Gabe stood ramrod straight, how his eyes lasered into Clay.

Clay’s eyes fell on the pedal and widened. “I—That—” His face grew redder by the second.

“Why do you have April’s pedal?” Gabe repeated, his voice deadly quiet.

“I found it at the donut shop,” he said, trying to sound casual but missing the target by a mile.

“Then why didn’t you try to return it? Everyone on that ride knew she was missing a pedal.”

“I was going to. I just hadn’t had the chance—”

“I don’t believe you,” Gabe said, his voice louder.

“Everything has just been so busy with Ironman coming—”

“Bullshit!” Gabe yelled.

The room stopped moving. I swear the entire party held a collective breath. Clay swallowed before murmuring, “I never expected her to get hurt.”

Gabe’s throat made a choking noise. I put a hand on his arm, but honestly, I was having a hard time staying grounded myself .

“Wait,” Trevor said, giving a humorless laugh like he was pretty sure he knew exactly what was going on, but that couldn’t be right. He had to have missed something. “Are you saying you messed with her bike?”

“She’s a mechanic. I thought it would be a silly little inconvenience,” Clay said, his voice climbing higher and higher.

“What was your end goal?” Trevor asked. “Delay a ride? Or wreck her bike?”

“No! That’s not what—”

“Because if you fucked up her bike enough, she couldn’t race with it, right? So, A-Team would be yours.”

“No!” Clay tried to laugh, but it was strained. “You are reading too much into things. It was supposed to be funny.”

“She could have died,” Gabe said, his tone venomous.

“I didn’t think she was going to roll out in front of traffic!”

Gabe growled something quiet in Spanish before switching back to English. “It’s obvious you weren’t thinking!”

There was a charge in the air, so I tried to intervene—to snuff it out before it grew into something that couldn’t be controlled.

“Hey, hey! Okay.” I stood in front of Gabe, wishing for once he wasn’t so tall, so I could block his view of Clay. But I wasn’t, so I opted for a hand on his chest. Gabe’s jaw was set, and he looked ready to lay hands on Clay. There would be no coming back from that. Gabe would become the monster he’d always feared. I would lose him.

“Gabe, look at me.” It took a moment for him to process my request, and when he finally did, his eyes were still wide. “I want to go home. Can you please take me home?” A muscle in his jaw ticked, but his features softened, if only by a little.

He looked back at Clay, but he was at least calmer when he said, “You don’t deserve to be a coach.”

He took my hand, and relief washed over me with each step we took from Clay.