The Effects of Falling (The Weight of Rain Duet Book 2) (27 page)

Another year of defeat until he revived my confidence with a new skill.

Learning acceptance and how it felt to be accepted.

Eleven years of feelings that have led to an incomparable exhaustion.

Thousands of thoughts taking millions of minutes.

So many emotions are swirling in my mind, yet I don’t feel the effects of a single one. All I feel is a gap in my chest where my heart used to be.

I
PULL UP
to Uncle Toby’s shop and take a deep breath.

For the past two days, Kash and I have worked tirelessly at pretending nothing is wrong, that nothing ever happened, and we’re back to being friends. I know he feels the differences as strongly as I do. Everything feels off, and the harder we work to ignore it, the more prominent that feeling becomes.

Coaching is the last thing I want to be doing, but staying at the Knights or going home are my alternatives, and neither option is preferable.

“Don’t fuck with my stereo,” Uncle Toby says as I clear the doorway.

I flip him off, not bothering with any exaggerated or teasing gesture, just allowing my flag of dismissal to fly high, while I cross to the doors to the box.

The music is louder than normal as it plays old eighties rock, his own way of flipping me off. In the bike closet, I choose a heavier bike and clip a helmet into place. The clock allots me thirty minutes of free time until the class will arrive. Two riders are inside, practicing until they’ll be kicked off by my students. I still don’t have any desire to do anything besides ride around in hopes that the gears will allow this array of thoughts to fall into place.

I pedal, and pedal, and pedal, and don’t lose a single ounce of distress before my first student enters the box. It’s Bentley, his red hair as bright as his smile. He fastens his helmet and rides around, joy carving each of his features as he gets his first taste of big air. I remember that feeling, the one where it seemed like I had waited forever, counting down the seconds to get to experience the freeing familiarity that came with riding. I miss it.

Stopping at the edge, I push my bike over the lip and rest it against the wall as I prepare for the next hour.

Uncle Toby used to make me practice fundamentals twice a week. They were practices I usually loathed because the simple actions often felt more complicated after doing it a dozen times. I would compare the feeling of each movement, constantly questioning if I was improving or digressing, and then I would start watching others, critiquing, comparing, wondering who was a stronger rider. I hate to admit that I long ago realized the reason he used to do it.

As more students arrive, the two who stayed to get in extra time leave without a word. Luke, the obnoxious kid who could use a few blowouts to humble him, is ragging on Austin for missing his pedal when making a landing. Bentley quietly yammers something, his face defensive, assuring me he’s telling Luke to shut up in a likely offensive manner.

Lisa appears in the box, her lips pursed. I wish she wanted to be here. It’s the only thing that keeps me from considering investing in more time with her.

Chase, the rock star of the group, is the last to enter, and I’m grateful Tommy isn’t accompanying him.

I clap to gather their attention and wait for them to ride to my side. “Who rode their bike around this week?” I ask.

“It rained most of the week,” Luke objects.

“Yeah, it, like, poured at my house,” Johnny agrees.

I stare at each of them, waiting for a better excuse. “If you’re going to allow the weather to stop you, than you’d better save your parents the money of putting you through classes, because believe me, there are far bigger obstacles than the rain.”

Turning to look at the others, I stop on Lisa. “Did you ride this week?”

Her lips remain pursed as she nods with a tight jerk of her head.

“Where?”

“School. A few parks. Through downtown.” She shrugs, never meeting my gaze.

“Good. What about you?” I ask Austin.

His long arms cross over his elongated frame that is tented with a shirt three sizes too big. “Bentley and I rode all the hills in the back of my house, took some trails, and went to the skate park three times.”

I nod, giving Bentley a look of approval, and then I sweep my attention to Chase. “Did you ride this week, Chase?”

He grins as he nods. “I ride every day, Coach.”

I believe him. He’s a natural. Riding comes as expected to him as walking and is as necessary as breathing. He doesn’t practice because I’m demanding it, but because it’s a requirement for his own sanity. It is how I know he will be going places.

“Good.” I sit back on the seat of my bike and look over each of them. “Who went home and Googled me?”

Each of their heads dips, revealing they have. If they hadn’t, they’d just nod like a bunch of clueless assholes.

“Falling is always a possibility, even when you do everything to prevent it, but part of my job is making sure you guys are trained to minimize those chances and help you know what to do if you can’t correct it.”

Luke groans.

I shoot him a glare. “I know you think you know everything, but I can promise you, even in eleven years, you won’t, especially when you allow everything to be an excuse.”

His lips twist, trying to hide a smirk that makes me want to toss him out of the class and smash his bike. Assholes like him are not only a danger to themselves, but also to everyone else they ride with.

I keep my stare on him. “We’re going to practice our fundamentals today, because as much as we all hate them, they. Will. Save. Your. Asses.” Pressing my lips together, I look over them again. “You can’t be afraid to ride, but you need to learn your boundaries and limits and then slowly work to push them. If you don’t know them, you
will
get hurt.”

No one looks excited to begin, but I’m sure they’ve each watched my wreck on YouTube a dozen times; therefore, they don’t argue when I deal out instructions that have them lining up to begin.

The frustrations that begin to mar their faces has me verbalizing more praises and assurances and then none, needing them to believe in themselves and their abilities.

“I
KNOW THESE
practices aren’t fun. They’re hard work, and they don’t feel nearly as rewarding, but I’m proud of you guys for sticking with it and working so hard. You did a great job, and you should all be proud of yourselves. Next week we’ll do something more fun, but I need you to all commit to practicing this week while you’re not here, even if it’s only an hour a day.” I make sure to look pointedly at Luke and Johnny. “If you guys want to ride for awhile, the box is open for the next twenty-five minutes until the next class begins.”

They nod and then break away, some diving directly back into the cement pit while others head toward their parents who have come to get them.

Tommy is leaning against the doorway, his gaze focused on me. As soon as I acknowledge him with a brief smile, he kicks off the wall and strides over to me, wreaking havoc on my already distressed emotions.

“Coaching suits you. You could do this for the pros.”

“I kind of already do
…”

He nods, his attention falling to the ground as though he’s embarrassed, or doesn’t know what to say. The bruise on his jaw has turned a dark green with purple shadows.

“So
…”
he begins, “are you hungry?”

“I don’t really like beer,” I blurt.

Tommy’s eyes are wide with surprise, his forehead creased. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

I shrug. “I don’t hate it. I just prefer wine.”

“Red or white?”

“Red.”

He smiles. “I don’t know much about wine, but I’d be willing to let you teach me, Coach.”

I scoff. “Flattery will get you everywhere with certain people but barely past hello with me.”

The smile that makes his lips thin because it’s so wide brightens his eyes. “Duly noted.”

“I hope you know I’m driving this time.”

“I’d like to say I’m shocked
…”

The easy joy Tommy brought ceases.

My throat closes.

My heart pauses.

I look over my shoulder toward the doorway, feeling his stare.

Kash and Mercedes are standing beside Uncle Toby who is talking rapidly, using more words than I’ve likely heard him use in several years combined. Mercedes is looking around, but Kash’s eyes are locked on me like laser beams. I shift uneasily, and take a step back from Tommy. Toby visibly sighs, his shoulders dropping as he looks over to me and slowly shakes his head with disapproval. I have no idea if it’s because he thinks I’m an idiot for hanging out with Tommy or because he fears drama in his shop.

Anticipation boils in my stomach, waiting for Kash’s reaction. He places a palm on Mercedes’ shoulder and whispers something in her ear before stalking toward us. With each of his measured and purposeful steps, my heart thuds louder, and my teeth bite down harder on the inside of my cheek. His shoulders are squared, and his lips are pressed into a firm line that doesn’t reveal a single hint of what he will say or do.

My weight shifts twice before he reaches my side. Then, Kash smiles, using every ounce of his power that he damn well knows affects me. It steals my breath, my thoughts, and every ounce of my attention.

“Hey.” He isn’t greeting both of us. His voice is quiet, reserved, and like his smile, it is intended only for me.

“Hey.” My eyes remain fixated on his, feeling the familiar comfort he exudes slow my heart. “You got Mercedes in.”

“Yeah, she’s kind of nervous, so I talked to Toby and offered to help out, so I could be here.”

“I figured you’d be slammed with trying to get ready for the big event coming up,” Tommy chimes in.

Kash’s gaze stays on me for several seconds after Tommy’s comment. Then, he turns, his smile less sincere. “I have some pretty impressive coaches in my corner. They’ll make sure I’m ready.”

It’s rare for me to even be concerned about Kash and how he will do leading up to an event because I have never seen a better rider in all the years that I was a competitor and now a spectator. The only person who comes close is King, and I’m assuming half of that is due to genetics, and the other half is because they constantly practice together.

Likely, Tommy’s words were merely a mind game. I have no idea if he was invited to the event, though I should because we should now be evaluating the competition to know what to expect and where Kash and King will shine their brightest.

“What happened?” Kash brushes his fingers along his own jaw where Tommy’s bruise is prominently showcased. “Bars get you?” He’s referring to the handlebars, making a passive-aggressive dig in return.

Tommy gapes for only a second, and then a smug smile tugs his lips into a smile. He knows with this simple question that I never did tell Kash about the accident, and with that, he is now questioning the validity and significance of my and Kash’s relationship that has often been painted as something far more intimate and serious by the media.

“You know, learning a lesson.”

My eyes narrow. It was far more than merely learning a lesson. It was negligence at its finest.

Tommy’s eyes expand with my irate expression aimed on him, and his cocky smirk grows more playful as it becomes more genuine. “Thankfully, I’m a
very
fast learner.”

Kash’s eyebrows rise. “I sure hope so if you walk out of each lesson looking like that.”

Tommy laughs. “Well, it’s too bad you’re on coach duty. Summer and I are going to go grab some dinner and learn about wine.”

If there was ever a pain equivalent to the day I crashed, it would be now. Kash isn’t even looking at me to deliver the blow. Still, it’s an ugly and lethal mixture of shame, guilt, anger, and blame with a sour underlying dose of hope.

When Kash finally looks at me, the same facade of a smile lies to me, attempting to say that it’s okay when I know it isn’t. He swallows and places a hand on the small of my back where it fits like a glove, warming me, assuring me, growing that hopefulness and drowning some of the bitterness consuming me.

“That sounds like a good time.”

It does?

My spine straightens.

Kash’s hand doesn’t feel so comfortable and natural.

“Dad!” Mercedes rushes over, bouncing with uncontrollable excitement. “This place is awesome! That girl has been riding for five years! That one,” she points to a girl with two long braids down her back, “recognized you! She said you’re her idol! These are my people!”

Kash smiles, placing his free hand on her back. “Good!” He sounds relieved, but he doesn’t look it.

Uncle Toby approaches us, his teeth working his bottom lip. “I was thinking of taking a page from this kid,” he nods to me, “and having the class do fundamentals today. They’ve gone two weeks without them, and need to get one in. Maybe it would be better if you came back next week to show them what all those hours of fundamentals can accomplish?”

We all look to Kash expectantly. He now has the perfect excuse to come with us without looking like it is even his idea. While I wish he had come up with a solution himself, I am relieved Uncle Toby is providing him with one.