Page 30 of Theo (Stone Brothers #6)

TWENTY-FIVE

THEO

"H ow you feeling?" Dad put his hand on my shoulder.

"I'd feel a lot better if you didn't keep asking me how I'm feeling."

Dad lifted his hand off my shoulder. "Oops, sorry. I won't ask again."

"Look, I'm not going to lie. That huge road gap is front and center in my mind, but if I can't get past it, then I might as well give up right now.

" The doctor had given me the okay to get back on the trails.

I'd been practicing all morning on some of the shorter, less intense routes, but now it was time to test out my skills on the big run.

Sponsors were already starting to get shaky about their support for my racing.

It didn't help that my crash had been taped and viewed millions of times online.

That also didn't help my head. When you crash, you replay it in your head and some of the sharp edges get dulled by your own recall.

A wipeout on a turn starts to seem more like just a bad spill.

Overshooting a jump that results in a bad landing becomes a slight miscalculation that can easily be fixed on the next run.

But seeing a spectacular, injury-resulting crash on video and complete with sound effects like me groaning in pain and the audience gasping in horror, there was no way to erase it with positive thoughts.

I crashed hard, and I was just inches from a rock garden, one with boulders that would have compounded my injuries greatly.

The video might have been amusing for people viewing it, but for me, and, unfortunately for my mom, it was a stark reminder that I was in a dangerous sport.

One wrong move could result in disaster.

Mom had been working hard to get me to consider giving it up.

And Lacey had been nudging me that way too but with far less mom intensity.

Cormac was sitting on a rock wall with his water bottle.

"You've got this, bro." He nodded once, and I nodded back.

He hadn't been overanalyzing my state of mind like my dad, but Cormac knew this was chewing me up inside.

He'd had enough crashes on bikes, skateboards and snowboards to know that they could mess with your head.

And sometimes, you can't just get back on the horse.

Sometimes you're too out of the game to even think about it.

I glanced at Dad, and it seemed he was working hard to not look worried.

I nodded to him like I'd done with Cormac and jammed my feet on the pedals.

It was a blistering hot day on the mountainside, and my riding pants were sticking to me with sweat.

My helmet was cooking my brain, too. I pushed down on the pedal and took off.

The start of the trail went well, but I knew I was nowhere near a winning time. I was feeling things out. I needed to get the layout, the obstacles, the turns and the drops mapped out in my mind. The race was next week.

I was sticking every turn. The bike and I were like one.

I was feeling good until I turned the last corner before the road jump.

I could see the road below out of the corner of my eye.

It was a strip of shabby asphalt, an old service road, that stretched through a deep crevice in the mountain.

To get to the other half of the trail I had to jump off the rock ledge, arc over the road and jutting rocks and land on the trail below.

It was a fifty-foot jump and one that had never really bothered me before the crash.

My heart was already smacking my newly healed ribs hard, but it sped up more as the rock ledge came into view.

A rider had to pedal fast to hit it at the right speed to clear the asphalt and rocks.

My pulse was pounding in my ears and sweat dripped behind my goggles, burning my eyes.

I pedaled hard and got the bike moving. The jump ledge turned its rock lip up in front of me.

As I pedaled toward it, that stupid fucking video crept into my head.

I slowed and laid the bike down to avoid going off the steep edge.

The bike wheels were still spinning as I sat there on the gray sheet of granite. I was done. My career was fucking over. That jump had just become my boogeyman, and I didn't know how to clear my head of it.

I snatched the bike off the ground and walked it back up the difficult trail. It was much harder going that direction and walking. Dad was standing at the top of the trail staring down at me with that supportive dad look, but I knew he was disappointed.

I reached the top. Cormac was still sitting on the wall. He didn't say a word, which was probably a good call.

"We've probably worked you too hard today," Dad said.

I let my bike and my helmet drop to the dirt. "Or I'm just too fucked up in the head. Think it's that one. And, yeah, I'm done for the day. In fact, I'm just done."

Dad picked up the bike and helmet. "Mac, start packing the truck." He caught up to me. "We've all been there."

"So don't go thinking I'm something special?"

"Yeah, you're not. Like I said, we've all hit obstacles like this. And a little less attitude would help cuz I've been standing out in this hot fucking sun all morning trying to be a dad and a coach, and I keep getting my teeth kicked in for it."

I stopped and raked my fingers through my wet hair. "Yeah, sorry. I'm being an asshole." I looked at him. "Not sure I can get past this, Dad. This one really got to me."

"You'll get past it if you want it bad enough."

"Fuck that." I waved my arm toward the trail. "Of course I fucking want it badly. But I'm not going to win if I tiptoe around that jump, am I?"

Dad smiled. "No but that's a pretty good visual. You barreling down the trail and then you stop, pick up your bike, hop up on tiptoes and carry it around the jump."

I smiled too. "Glad I at least amused you today."

"C'mon, bud, let's go home. Your mom said she made enchiladas, and I'm fucking starved.

Invite Lacey over and give yourself a night off from thinking about it.

Then you can give it some real thought." Dad headed toward the truck but then stopped and turned back to me.

"You know, this is all your decision. Don't factor me into the equation at all.

I love being your coach and support staff, but if you decide to give it all up, I'll still be your support staff.

" He pulled the brim of his cap lower and headed to the truck.

My dad and his brothers grew up with a shitty dad, but all of them were fucking amazing as parents.

It was almost as if their dad had shown them everything not to do and that had given them the blueprint for doing it right.

One thing was damn sure, Dad had never had a support staff.

Other than his brothers and, eventually, Mom, he never had any support period.