Chapter 23
Jax
When I woke up this morning, Bentley was already gone. I feel a pang in my chest that I missed her, but I know I haven’t exactly been great company these past three weeks. To be honest, I don’t even know why she’s still here, still with me. Or why she hasn’t kicked my arse to the curb, given this is her house. I keep thinking I should get up and do something, you know, cook or clean, but I just can’t bring myself to get out of bed except to get something to eat, drink, or to shower. It’s not that I want to be this broken, depressed mess, but every time I go to get up, I keep thinking that if my own family doesn’t want me, then who will?
But still, I can’t leave it alone.
“Hello,” his gruff voice says as he answers the phone.
“Hey, Pop,” I say. My voice sounds weak, defeated. It sounds like I feel.
“Jax.”
“I just…,” I start. “I just wanted to call and ask you, no, plead with you, to change your mind.”
He sighs. “Jax—”
“Please,” I plead. “This is who I am, who we are, don’t take that away from me.”
“I’m sorry, Jax.”
“No you’re not,” I spit.
“Truly I am. I wish it didn’t have to be this way.”
“It doesn’t!” I shout. “You’re the one who’s making it this way!”
“The risk is too great, Jax. Who knows what damage you’ll do if you crash and hit your head again? I won’t be responsible for that. I can’t have that hanging over my head too.”
Too? What does he mean, too? “What do you mean? What else are you responsible for?”
“Your mother,” he says.
“Mum had cancer,” I tell him. “How the fuck was that your fault?”
“I should’ve known something was wrong, gone and got her checked out.”
“How could you possibly have known there was something wrong?” I ask. “Ovarian cancer is hard to detect, they say so all the time, let alone twenty years ago.”
“Still,” he says.
I shake my head. “That’s bullshit. I get you miss her, fuck, we all do, but her getting cancer, her dying wasn’t your fault. Just like any injury we get isn’t your fault.”
“It may not be, but I’m the one who allows you lot to do what you do. I’m the one who pushed you all into bikes in the first place.”
“Pfft,” I say. “You didn’t push any of us. If I remember right, you were the one who was always pulling me off Park’s and Reed’s bikes when I was barely able to climb onto them.”
He laughs. “You always were a daredevil.”
“I still am,” I tell him.
He sighs. “But you don’t have to be. You have the ability to connect with so many people, and you know what it takes to be the best.” He takes a breath. “I want you to come on board as a talent scout. You’d be a natural.”
I let that statement sit there for a bit, anger welling up inside me. “I’m not done yet, and I’ll die before I sit there and choose the next guy to take my place.”
“It’s better this way,” he says.
“For you and your conscience,” I say, “but it would kill me. It is killing me. You’ve completely broken me.”
“You’ll get over it,” he says, “just like Reed did when he gave up racing.”
“I’m not Reed, Pop. I can’t just give up something I love, and bounce back like it’s nothing. Riding is who I am.”
“You can learn to be someone different.”
“Is that really what you want?” I ask. “For me to be someone different?”
“If it keeps you safe and well, then yes.”
“I might be safe if I’m not riding, but I’ll never be well.” I sigh, knowing it’s pointless to reason with him. “So that’s it?” I ask. “I’m officially done with Ryan Racing?”
“As a rider, yes, but—”
I cut him off. “That’s the only position I’m interested in.”
“Jax, please consider—”
“Why should I consider anything when you won’t consider where I’m coming from?”
“I only want what’s best for you,” he says.
“Then you don’t know shit about me if you think this is it,” I say, and hang up.
A few hours later, Bentley comes back.
“Hey,” I say, initiating conversation for the first time in weeks.
She stops, shocked, but recovers quickly. “Hey yourself.”
“Where’d you go today? I missed you.”
She melts a little bit. “I missed you too.”
I pat the bed for her to climb on. She does, and snuggles into my side. “You seem….” She trails off.
“Yeah,” I say.
“So what’s up?”
I blow out a breath. “I called Pop.”
Her head whips around so fast her hair whacks me in the face. She’s gone for a blue/green/yellow combo at the moment. “Sorry,” she says. “What happened?” She has a hopeful look in her eyes.
“I’m done. Officially.”
Her shoulders slump. “I’m sorry, Jax.”
I shrug. “I just wanted to try, you know? Just once more to see if I could get through to him.”
“It didn’t work?”
I shake my head. “He gave me some bullshit excuse about not wanting to be responsible for any injury I have in the future.”
“But it’s a part of the sport,” she says.
“I know. He does too.”
“So he’s not budging?”
“Nope.”
“What now?” she asks.
I shrug again. “I don’t know.”
“Do you still want to ride?”
I nod. “I do. I love it, it’s who I am, and I’m nowhere near done,” I say.
“So theoretically,” she says, playing with the hem of her top, “if there was another team that wanted to sign you, would you take them up on that?”
I shift so I’m looking her in the eyes. “What do you know?”
“Okay, you wanted to know where I was today right?” she asks, and I’m confused as to what the hell that has to do with the conversation we’re having, but I go with it.
“Ah, yeah?” I say, but it comes out like a question.
“I met with Dean Toms,” she says.
“You what?” I ask.
She grabs my wrist in an attempt to calm me down. “I met with Dean.”
“Why?”
“Because I was sick of seeing you so broken. I couldn’t take it anymore, Jax,” she says, and my heart breaks, and swells with love at the same time.
I hug her to me. “I’m so sorry, darlin’,” I say into her hair.
She clings tight to me. “It’s not your fault.”
“I love you so much, Bentley.”
She pulls back and cups my face. “And I love you.”
“So what did dirtbag Dean have to say for himself?”
“He really wants you on his team, Jax. What he’s promising, it’s really fucking impressive.”
“Like what?”
“Everything. He reckons he can take your career and catapult it into the stratosphere.”
“Really?” I ask, still in disbelief that she would actually do this for me.
She nods. “He wants you bad, Jax.”
“Well, who doesn’t?” I joke, and earn myself a playful shove.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“I don’t know. It’d be weird to be riding for someone other than my family, but….” I trail off. “What do you think?”
She blows out a breath. “I think you’re a rider who loves what he does and still has a shitload to give. If your family doesn’t want to be a part of it, then I think you should go somewhere with people who appreciate your skills, and not only want to utilise them, but make you into a star.”
“A bigger star,” I correct.
She rolls her eyes. “Right, a bigger star.”
“But Dean,” I say. “Maybe I should wait a bit, you know, see if anyone else is willing to take me on.” Beside me, she fidgets. “What else do you know?”
“Nothing, just that the offer Dean has put forth is pretty impressive.”
“Bentley….”
She blows out a breath. “Mav and I went to some of the other teams on the circuit. We thought it would be a no-brainer, you being who you are and all.”
“But?”
“But your pop had already gone to them, begged them not to take you on.”
“He what?”
“He’s just trying to protect you, to keep you safe in his own way,” she says, and it kills me to hear her defend him.
“So Dean really is my only choice.”
She nods. “He’s a creep, no doubt about it, but he seems to know what he’s doing and he wants to do it for you.”
I think about what she’s saying. It’ll be strange not having the Ryan Racing logo on my bike, but what other choice do I have? I don’t want to stop riding and as much as I’m not a fan of Dean Toms, he’s the only one who’s offering me a way to keep doing that. Plus, if he comes through with everything that Bentley said, then it’s a pretty sweet deal. I’m not going to lie, Dean creeps me out a bit and the DeanStars are a bit on the wanky side of things but it’s an offer, right? I mean, wearing some dicky uniform while I ride isn’t going to be too much of a big deal. And what do I care about some gimmicky branding and a fucking awful slogan? Those things aren’t going to affect my riding, they just give me the ability to stay on my bike.
“So we’re doing this?” I ask.
“I’m in if you’re in.”
“Can you pass me my phone?”