My sister. Huh.
I checked the tiny towel keeping the important bits covered. ‘Mostly. Come on in.’
She burst into the room as she always did, as though a herd of stallions were chasing her. ‘Look, bro-nut, I’ve got to go, but get your shit together, for fuck’s sake!’
Chris backed away, hands raised. ‘I’d rather not be in the crossfire.’
‘Get out while you still can,’ I drawled, rolling my eyes at him.
‘If you don’t want a lecture, then start behaving like a functional adult.’ Her voice was even and there was even a little catch that reminded me of how Mum told me off – as though it pained her too.
‘I’m trying,’ I admitted. ‘I’m not good under pressure.’
She crossed her arms and looked at the ceiling. ‘Nobody’s good with pressure – well, except me. I love it. But that’s not what I meant. I’m talking about Leesa.’
‘What about Leesa?’ I grumbled. ‘You can’t exactly get up on your high horse about a relationship after what you put Seb through last year.’
‘I did notput him throughanything. You, on the other hand…’
She was still annoyed with me for the pranks I pulled on her boyfriend when he was new on the team. I’d felt the vibes between her and Seb right from the beginning and it was my way of testing his mettle, if he was going to go a round with my sister, but I understood she hadn’t been happy about my interference – and I had gone too far on occasion.
‘I just know how unsettling it is to… wonder if someone really likes you.’ She looked faintly embarrassed. ‘Just reel her in or let her go and then get on with the fucking Tour. I can’t stand it.’
‘Because the Tour de France is all about putting my sister out of her misery.’
‘You’rea misery.’
‘And I’m pretty sure Leesa shares your opinion, so you can let the subject drop. The onlyreelinggoing on here will be her social-media clips of me being some kind of tragic figure in this race with a sponsor logo shining out of my fucking arse.’
At least that made her fall silent for long enough to take a breath. ‘It’s worse than I thought,’ she commented eventually.
I laughed. ‘You hadn’t worked that out yet? I’m a disaster this year and she’s going to witness it all and then go home to her new life congratulating herself on getting the hell out of cycling – and away from me.’
Lori considered her words for a long time – another surprise as my big sister was usually an impulsive force of nature. ‘I think I know Leesa a little better than you do—’
I snorted before she’d even finished her sentence. ‘I doubt it. I’ve been taking note of every little thing she does every time the teams were together for the past six years. I know that she hates peanut butter and likes those classical art memes. She can’t blow-dry her hair because of the curls, she wishes she spoke Polish better and I’m pretty sure I’m the only person in the world who’s seen her tattoo all healed up.’
God, it felt good to say that stuff.
Lori’s eyes were wide. ‘Farking hell, Colin. What happened to you?’
‘Nothing,’ I insisted lightly. ‘Nothing new, at any rate. I met her on the 29th of November five-and-a-half years ago. The only thing that’s changed is I now know touching her feels even better than I imagined, which is saying something.’
‘All right, you can shut up now. This is…a lotworse than I thought.’
‘You’re getting the idea,’ I said with a tight smile. ‘She’s going back home after the Tour. Last time I said goodbye to her I ended up breaking her wrist.’ The sarcasm hadn’t quite left me yet.
‘Maybe…’ Lori’s brow knit. ‘What if…?’
I sighed. ‘You think I haven’t run these scenarios? The one certainty is that shehasn’tbeen crushing on me all this time, so that’s that.’
She straightened her shoulders. ‘Come on. You’re a Gallagher. It’s not over ’til you see the finish line and some other guy’s crossed it.’
That metaphor made me grind my teeth. Would there be some other guy in Leesa’s future? Someone else who could get her out of her own head during sex? That might have been my biggest win where she was concerned, that and maybe getting her back on the bike. I’d wasted far too much time making her life difficult because I was allergic to my own feelings.
Another knock at the door startled us both and Lori bounded to open it before I’d even had time to triple-check my loin-towel. Normal people probably didn’t have these discussions almost naked, but then normal people didn’t cycle over 3,000 km in three weeks, with all the accompanying Vaseline and discomfort.
I gave myself a quick rearrange and then a choked cough revealed the full extent of my indignity.
