Page 204 of Bend

“Neither am I. I trust you on a bike, but that doesn’t mean I want to watch you disappear onto the same road that took him.”

Thorne drags a hand over his face and starts to pace.

Their fear lands harder than the refusal, because I understand it. I feel the same thing every time I look at their leathers, their helmets, the bikes lined up behind us, but that doesn’t change what I want.

“I know exactly what I’m asking,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I’m scared too, and I’m not trying to prove anything. I’ve ridden the course in practice, I know the bike, I know my limits, and I know when to back off. You’re all choosing to go out there because this race means something now, because you want it to be a tribute to Wolfe. I want to be part of that too.”

Andre studies me for a second before asking, “Is that really what you want, or is this grief talking?”

“It’s what I want.”

Sayshen looks at Andre, then back at me. “She can ride.”

“I know she can,” Andre says, his attention never leaving me. “That’s not the part I’m questioning.”

Talon gives him a sharp look, but Andre keeps going.

“There is an open entry. The organizers cleared Wolfe’s slot for a reserve, but if you take it, you have to take it as part of this team. Officially.”

I stare at him.

“What does that mean?”

“It means you won’t be a mechanic filling in for a rider. You become a Speed Demon, and you take the start he left open.”

The words hit harder than I expect.

I look toward Wolfe’s empty bay before forcing myself to look back at Andre.

“I’m not replacing him.”

“Nobody is,” Andre says immediately. “That isn’t what this is.”

Talon’s shoulders are still rigid, but Sayshen looks more thoughtful now, and even Draygon’s expression has shifted from outright refusal to reluctant worry.

Thorne is the one I look at last.

“You’re asking me to stand here and trust you to ride that course because you need to do it,” I tell him. “I’m asking for the same thing back.”

His eyes stay on mine for a long moment before his jaw tightens.

“I fucking hate that you’re making sense.”

Before anyone can say more, movement at the edge of the bay pulls our attention.

My father is walking toward us with Wolfe’s parents.

Dad takes one look at the group before his eyes land on me.

“What’s going on?”

I answer before anyone else can.

“I want to race.”

His face changes instantly, surprise first, then fear.

Wolfe’s mother looks between me and the bikes before settling her attention on me.