It got to the point where I was having a panic attack every time he went out, especially if it was for a competition, but even if hewas just riding by himself. So, he stopped. And I never thanked him for it, because that meant acknowledging that he did it for me. Because I couldn’t control my emotions enough to not take something away from him that he loves.
Instead, neither of us ever discussed it. Just like everything else new and painful that’s slowly filling this house around us. I’m worried that this mountain of unsaid will ultimately smother us. Or is it only going to keep pushing us together, until we’re bound more by the threat of mutual destruction than any real desire?
“I’ll come with you.”
My voice breaks the silence before I’d really formulated the thought. Cade’s eyes widen, just as shocked as I am at the suggestion.
There were a couple of months between when my dad left me—taking my bike with him as his consolation prize—but before I’d let myself acknowledge I never wanted to ride again. I’d gotten a beater dirt bike on the cheap, just to have, and fixed it up as part of my training at the shop. It’s nothing fancy, but it runs.
And when I gradually stopped using it altogether, the idea of getting rid of it felt too much like a final admission of weakness. So I held on to it, sitting next to Cade’s bike he’s had for years, both of them now gathering dust I have to shake off every time I do routine maintenance. I know how much Cade’s bike means to him, which keeps me doing the bare minimum to make sure the engine doesn’t seize up from disuse, even if I secretly hope he never rides it again.
Until this moment, at least. This moment where it feels like he needs it.
Cade and I are still looking at each other. I’m wondering how much needs to be said right now, and if I had to guess, I’d sayhe’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he’ll tell me no. Maybe he wants to be alone.
I don’t know if I can really help him. But I know that watching him suffer like this hurts too much not to try.
“Okay,” he says, finally, his voice oddly flat. “Let’s go.”
It’s getting into the early grip of winter, before the earth gets hard-packed and semi-frozen, instead being wet enough that it’s more like riding on sludge.
The mud out by Cade’s family’s trailer is so bad we had to let some air out of the tires before we left. We keep the bikes there because there’s plenty of space, and all the trails he used to practice on are snaking around his neighbor’s property. No one was home when we parked, thankfully, so we didn’t have to have any awkward conversation. We just pulled out the bikes and our gear and got ready to go.
It all happened in a silence that was a mixture of companionable and tense. I love the quiet, but when it’s coming from Cade, I find it unsettling. He fills my life in a lot of ways, but one of them is definitely a constant stream of conversational chatter. As much as I would never have expected to enjoy it, I do when it’s coming from him. I love how animated he gets when he tells me about something cool that his sisters did, or some new medical thing he just learned that I won’t even pretend to understand.
This stillness from him is so out of character, it has me more worried than the door slamming. I’d almost prefer it if he picked something random to fight with me about, just so he could get this dark energy out of him.
Hopefully, this will help.
I focus on that to get myself out of my head once we head out on the trail. On one hand, every sensation is familiar in this bone-deep way, which is kind of soothing. Even if I immediately start feeling aches and pains in the riding-specific muscles I haven’t used in so long. It’s easy to let myself think about that, and keep my eyes trained on Cade a dozen or so feet in front of me.
Once we pick up speed, I see him whip away a tear off from his goggles to clear his vision, the plastic already spattered in mud, and throw a look back over his shoulder as he shoves it in a pocket. I can’t see his expression, but it’s like I can feel it. It’s written in every line of his body, and the way he’s so alert, body ready to respond to every single bump or twist in the trail.
It’s joyful.
He looks so happy. Don’t ask me how I know that from staring at his back, I just do. I struggle to read people a lot of the time, but I’ve dedicated the last year of my life to learning every expression and gesture Cade produces and interpreting what they mean, and the Cade in front of me is happier than a Golden Retriever launching itself into a lake over and over.
Cade speeds up, and I match his pace. I try to lose myself in the jolting movement, the vibration of the bike underneath me, and the satisfying constant micro-adjustments of my body. It starts to feel like I’m in sync with the bike, and we’re both in sync with the earth underneath us.
We wind through the trees, me following Cade’s lead until we’re so deep it barely feels like we’re on a trail anymore. It’s more like a deer trail, weeds whipping at my legs as weblow past. My abs and thighs ache, and my wrists are already exhausted, but it doesn’t matter. My eye is on my love, and I’m going to chase him down.
Cade’s bright gear is all brown by the time we dismount, and I’m sure I look the same. I don’t think I’ve ever flung that much mud in my life. I’m already dying for a shower, but I can’t fight the budding elation I feel looking at the smile on Cade’s face.
There’s a red imprint from where his goggles were sitting, and the rest of his face is flushed with adrenaline beneath the mud spatter. He’s smiling, though. A real smile, that I’m only now realizing I haven’t seen in a while.
I suddenly don’t care how dirty we both are. All I care about is drinking him in. He’s swaying slightly as he gets his equilibrium on the non-moving ground, looking long and lean in that way that always makes me want to run my hands over him. I can picture the jut and curve of his hipbones under his pants, and the perfect way my hands wrap around them just to shove him into the wall.
We’re in the shed that passes for an extra garage that we put up next to the trailer. It’s enough to protect our bikes from the worst of the elements, but it’s not exactly sturdy. It’s mostly particle board with a little waterproofing slapped on top, and the whole thing shudders with the force of Cade’s body hitting the wall.
I absolutely cannot bring myself to care right now, though. Let the whole damn thing collapse. I’ll build another one. And another. As many as I need to fuck him senseless in.
“I see someone has their motor running,” Cade purrs directly into my mouth, all while he grinds his hips into mine, happy to be pinned between my weight and the wall.
“I will fuck the puns right out of your mouth if that’s what you need, boy.”
I can feel his breath catch, and his body is melting into my arms like hot butter.
“Yes, please.”
