Page 22 of Theo (Stone Brothers #6)

NINETEEN

THEO

"H ow are the ribs?" Uncle Hunter asked as he plopped onto the chair next to me.

"They fucking hurt." I'd been sitting still enough at the food table to momentarily forget about the three cracked ribs until my uncle reminded me. The ER doctor had wrapped them, but I'd removed the wrap this morning because it irritated the hell out of me.

Hunter went to clap me hard on the shoulder with his giant hand and then thought better of it. "Been there and yeah, hurts like hell just to breathe. Stella showed me the video. That was one big fucking road gap drop. What was that? A fifty-foot jump?"

"Something like that."

Hunter picked up a hot dog off the platter.

Jaxon and Bridget had put in a volleyball court.

What had started as a summer evening game of volleyball had turned into a full Stone affair.

The moms decided to make food, and they really outdid themselves.

The table was filled from one end to the other.

The volleyball court was pretty fucking cool, too.

Their property had a million-dollar view, and once the house was completely renovated it would be a multi-million-dollar home.

It was still nothing compared to what Bridget was used to.

She'd grown up ultra-rich, and thanks to her dad's dishonesty and shady dealings, Bridget had ended up with most of his fortune.

She considered the money so tainted she'd given a lot of it away to charity, but she and Jaxon still had a pretty sweet life.

One I could only dream of. My sponsorships were nice, but I wasn't going to be living in a multi-million-dollar beach house any time soon.

And now that the video of my last crash had gone viral, those sponsors might just be rethinking my contracts.

I'd made the same gnarly jump three times in practice, but the fourth time, my head wasn't in the game.

I flew through the air, and as I landed my foot slipped off the pedal, a small mistake that caused me to slam hard into the handlebars before flying over those same handlebars and smacking the dirt.

I'd missed a pile of rocks by mere inches.

Dad was white as a sheet by the time he climbed the trail to reach me.

I got lucky, ending up with only a few cracked ribs.

I was also lucky because it was just practice and not a race.

But enough people caught the whole spectacular fuckup on video, and I quickly discovered that your best way to a viral video was to be in a big, stunning wreck.

Hunter shoveled in two hot dogs while barely taking a breath.

"Hunter," Dad called from the volleyball court. "We need you on this side."

My uncle looked at me. "Don't tell anyone this, but I fucking hate volleyball. Dumbass sport, as far as I'm concerned."

Dad whistled for him to join the game.

"Don't look at me," I said. "I sneezed this morning and thought my insides were going to start pouring out of me."

Hunter grabbed another hot dog and inhaled it as he headed toward the game.

Mom came out of the house with a glass of lemonade. "Here. Remember how you used to beg me for lemonade in the summer?"

"Sure do." I took a drink. "Yep, still hits the spot." She sat down next to me.

"How are you feeling, sweetie? Do they still hurt bad?"

"Not as bad. That's the good thing about cracked ribs. They heal fast. I need to get back to the construction site. I'm running out of money."

"I'll send you some money to help out."

"Thanks, Mom." She reached back and picked up a handful of chips.

"Do you want me to fix you a plate?"

"No, I already had some hot dogs. I'm good."

She nibbled a few chips. "Your dad is worried about that fall."

I nodded. "Yeah, I couldn't exactly get back on the horse with these ribs.

I'll be fine." Even as I said it, I wasn't so sure that was true.

A fall like that could really mess with your head, and if you weren't able to get right back on the bike, then that mess only got bigger.

While I'd climbed back on with a broken thumb, a sprained ankle and a few concussions, I'd been in far too much pain after this last crash to even consider it.

"I know that's his worry, but mine is something else altogether." Mom brushed a hair off my forehead.

"I know, Mom."

"Do you? I guess I don't usually see your crashes, but since this one was all over social media, I couldn't miss it.

Wish I had," she said quietly. "You came so close to those rocks, Theo.

I know you love racing and flying down that mountain and the crazier the trail the better, but this could have been so much worse. "

"Can't do that in sports, Mom. You can't do the what if thing or you make yourself crazy. I'm good on a bike, and frankly, I'm not that fucking good at anything else."

"Not true." She smiled at me. "You're good at being my kid." She leaned over and kissed my cheek. "I want you to be happy and to achieve all those dreamy goals you've been carrying around since you got your first bike. But your health and well-being are important too. You've had a lot of injuries."

"So has Mac, and he doesn't even race."

Mom rolled her eyes. "That's because your brother has no common sense, and he has given me too many gray hairs to count. Well, I'm going to walk down to the game and watch. How about you?"

"Think I'll watch from here. Feels good sitting still."

"Jules is frosting some brownies. She'll bring them out soon."

"Another good reason to stay up here." She turned to walk away. "Hey, Mom?"

She looked back.

"I'm not sure how much longer I'll race, but it won't be forever. I promise."

She smiled and blew me a kiss.

The screen door slid open, and the fudgy aroma of brownies drifted my way. "You better have piled on that frosting, Jules."

She reached the table. I moved aside a bowl of salad, and she set the pan of brownies down. I didn't hesitate to grab one. "Just what the doctor ordered." I took a massive bite.

Jules stood nearby, arms crossed, waiting for me to finish it. "Well? Enough frosting?"

"It'll do."

Stella reached the table. "Oh my god, the fucking testosterone on that court. Too many bitchy competitors for me. I'm out. Plus, I want a brownie." She reached into the pan and lifted one out. "Did you tell him?" she asked before taking a bite.

I looked at Jules. "Tell me what?"

Jules gave Stella an annoyed brow arch. Stella swallowed the bite, licked her lip and then shrugged. "Oops. I just figured you'd tell him."

I looked at Jules again, and whatever it was, she didn't look anxious to spill the beans.

"Don't tell me, the video has passed a million views. I already knew that, but thanks for kicking a guy when he's down and hunched over like a broken old man."

"Ahh, you poor baby." Stella reached forward to pinch my cheek, but I blocked her.

Jules was unusually quiet as she pretended to suddenly be interested in the game across the way.

"So, what's up, Jules? I guess this isn't about the video."

Stella lit the first spark but then just as quickly walked away to avoid the fire. Jules scowled at her as she strolled off. I patted the seat next to me. "Sit and spill, cousin."

Jules sat reluctantly. "It's not that big a deal. I just thought with your crash and you not feeling great that you wouldn't need to hear?—"

"Jules, stop. Just fucking tell me."

"Lacey is back in Trayton." She blurted it fast, apparently thinking it wouldn't have as much impact, but it had plenty.

"For a visit?" I asked.

Jules shrugged as if she wasn't sure.

"Jules?"

"I think she's here for a while. She asked me to have coffee next week, and she also told me that she didn't want me to tell you she was in town."

"Well, that's fucking great."

"You forced it out of me," she insisted.

"Not that part. The part about her not wanting me to know. Guess that tells me where I stand in all this. 'Don't tell the fucking loser that I'm here. I don't want to see him.'"

"I don't think that was her reasoning at all.

" Jules reached back and picked up another brownie.

She handed it to me, but I waved it away.

"Darn, thought I could butter you up with buttercream.

" She laughed at her joke. "I don't know everything that happened because she didn't say and she's no longer posting on social media, but I think she moved in with her parents for now, so the marriage must be over. "

"Right, the marriage she never wanted but ran back to after a few hours with me. She decided she was better off in a crappy marriage to a dick than—" Jules pressed her fingers against my mouth.

"Shut up, Mr. Pity. None of that is true, and you know it. Look, I'll have coffee with her and see if I can get details."

I shook my head. "Not fucking interested."

"Yes, you are."

"Nope. I've got a race in two weeks, and I plan to be there to win it.

I don't need her fucking with my head anymore.

She made her choice. It wasn't me, and I'm not falling for that trick again.

I'm done with Lacey Michaels. I want nothing to do with her.

And you know what? Grab me another one of those fucking brownies. "