Hopefully it doesn’t rain again tomorrow for the women’s event. I enjoy riding in mud, but I’m not nearly as confident as Reid when it comes to rain or lack of visibility. I’m even more nervous after seeing some of the guys drop out today.
Reid drove here in his own van, so the rest of us are headed home without him. We load up into Damien’s perfectly clean SUV. Opting to sit in the back with Josie, I read her The Very Hungry Caterpillar again and again until she starts to drift off to sleep. Damien’s going to be pissed when he realizes she’s sleeping. He likes to keep her on a schedule, and car naps are not featured on those plans. Josie looks pretty damn cute with her little hand propped up by her cheek, though. Plus, it’s always fun to ruffle his controlled patience.
2
In the middle of dinner, Reid waltzes in the front door. He’s still thoroughly sullied in mud. I’m not sure what he was doing for the past two hours. Kicking off his worn-out mountain biking shoes by the door, he saunters into the dining room.
Reid bends down, pulling Josie into a crushing hug as he asks, “You guys started without me?”
Damien smacks him on the back of the head with a pair of tongs. “Go shower before you hug my daughter or no steak for you.”
“Damn, tough crowd.” He throws up his hands as if he’s in trouble as he walks off to shower.
I can finally eat my steak in peace.
Damien brings over some sort of pie. I can’t eat that. I’m already heavier than most of the girls in my division. It would slow me down on the uphills and make it harder to nail my jumps. He glares at me intensely as if he already knows what I was going to say. Reluctantly, I grab the spoon and take a small bite.
My grumpy cousin is nodding at me. I’m rolling my eyesthrough my reply, “Chill. I can handle my own meal plan just fine.”
As annoying as it is, I do love how worried he gets—he always keeps an eye out for me in a way that my parents and sister never do. My parents hate that I like riding bikes at all, let alone competitively. They would have preferred that I turned out like my twin, Aster. We may look identical but we could not be more different. We both have dark blonde hair that’s mostly straight but becomes a giant puffball whenever there’s some moisture in the air. Our eyes are eerily similar, a honey brown shade that looks a bit golden in the direct sun. She’s skinnier than me—something my mother never fails to mention.
Aster and her partner, Mackenzie, fit the Fairfax mold perfectly. They obsess over massive white couches and investment portfolios. She’s the one who my parents bring along on networking trips and ask to sit in on company meetings. I’d rather bang my head against the counter than go to one of those, but it hurts that they don’t want me there nevertheless.
Once they realized that they got the perfect daughter with Aster, they kind of gave up on me. Not that I could blame them—I never made much of an effort, spending all of my time with Damien’s mom before she died. Even Reid’s mom, our live-in chef, is more of a mother to me than my own is.
I’m mostly over it. But on days like today—when I’m scared and want to cry on my mother’s shoulder—it hurts more than it should. It’s a tricky sort of thing, grieving someone who is very much still alive. I feel guilty sometimes, like I should have a relationship with her just because I can. Damien doesn’t have that luxury.
Damien used to go with Reid and compete too, when he wasn’t off climbing some high peak, but all that stopped after his wife died. It’s a shame, he was insanely talented. Damien is good at almost everything. Now, we’re lucky if we can even get him togo on a hike. I know he misses it though, his dark eyes give it away when he thinks I’m not looking.
Reid comes down as we finish our desserts and scarfs down his steak with an intense focus that is somewhat concerning. He’s probably exhausted. Looking at him and the small scrapes on his forearms makes me feel even more nervous for my ride tomorrow.
I love mountain biking, more than anything really. Seriously, I do. But that doesn’t mean it’s not scary.
Biking is the only time I can finally turn my brain off and be present. It’s the only time I’m able to stop thinking and feel something. Convincing myself to get on the bike and let go is the hard part. The idea of actually putting my all into competing this year makes my stomach turn. This is exactly what I have always wanted, so I’m not sure why it feels so bad.
It’s hard to say whether that means I’m on the right track or the wrong one.
My chair slides behind me, and I make the excuse that I want to do the dishes. Damien follows and asks, “Addie are you gonna be okay?”
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine.”
“No, not with the dishes.” He grabs the sponge out of my hand and turns me so that I’m facing him. “I mean out on the road alone.”
“I won’t be alone. Reid will be there.”
His gaze is intense, trepidation drifting off of him. With arms folded across his broad chest, he warns, “I know, but with the panic attacks and everything.”
I’m annoyed now. There’s enough self doubt coursing through me to last a lifetime. I grab the sponge and return to busying myself with the dishes. “I’m a big girl, Damien. They’re under control.”
They are most certainly not under control, but he doesn’tneed to know that. He probably already does though—he always knows.
“I just want to make sure you actually want to do this.” His voice is gentle—it puts me on edge.
My lip is trembling. I nod softly and close my eyes as I will the feelings to recede.
He’s imploring me with his eyes. “You’re going to eat enough? And sleep enough?” Counting on his fingers, Damien continues ranting. “You should get a hotel every so often to make sure you sleep well. It’s important to have rest days, but you also need to train. Does Reid have a program for you?”
“I’ve got it.” My voice is clipped.
