Chapter 28
Jax
I know Bentley wants that shelter, and I know she wants it badly. I wish I could give it to her, but I just don’t know how. What I do know how to do, however, is ride freestyle BMX, something I happen to do really fucking well.
And that’s what I’m doing now. I’m up in Cairns for a demo. Bentley stayed home, she was elbow-deep in information about the different grants and shit they could get from the government for the shelter. It’s the first time I’ve been to something like this on my own in, well, ever. I’m so used to looking down from the top of the Big Air ramp and being able to spot Mav on the sidelines. It’s funny, when he left a year and a half ago to move to the Coast, I was so pissed at him. I thought he was breaking away from us and leaving me behind. Now here I am, having done the same thing, but for a wildly different reason. In my line of work, I never think about what happens if something goes wrong. It almost seems like tempting fate to do something like that. Then I was faced with the reality of dealing with the biggest hurdle of my career. I’m not going to lie, it was hard. Being that badly broken was something I was not used to at all. All things considered, I think I handled it pretty well, the tanty that took me to the Gold Coast aside. I would’ve been happy had that been the worst thing to happen to me. Never did I even consider the possibility my father would take what happened as the worst thing.
By taking that line of thinking, he then brought on something so earth-shattering, it broke me to the core. My family was everything to me. They were my whole world, the things that kept me grounded, made me whole. They were the ones who gave me the confidence to come out here and do what I do, knowing that no matter what happened, they would be there to break my fall. But not anymore. No, Bentley’s the one who’s taken on that role now. She’s my whole world, and I know I’m a lucky fucker she chose me. Or maybe I just wore her down. Either way, I’m going to take it. She has given me so much, and I want to give her the world in return. But again, I don’t know how to do that. So for the moment, I’ll stick to what I know.
I roll down the Big Air ramp, and everything is feeling good. My double backflip over the first gap is perfect, but as I hit the vert, the wind picks up. A moment of panic hits me, and images of my Extreme Games run flash through my mind. In the end I dead sailor it, getting some good air off the lip of the ramp, but not attempting to pull any tricks.
“What the fuck was that?” Dean says when I pull off into the rider area.
“What was what?” I ask, taking off my helmet.
“That, what you just pulled, or didn’t pull, should I say?”
“The wind picked up,” I say, shrugging. Even someone with half a brain knows that for any extreme bike sport, wind is the enemy.
“So?” he says, arms folded across his chest.
“I’m not going to pull a trick without knowing how far I’m likely to drift or where I’m going to land,” I say.
“Why the fuck not?” Just then the unmistakable sound of someone trying to do just that fills the air. The crowd is silent while the rider is being attended to.
“That’s why,” I say, pointing.
“Since when did you get all responsible?”
“I always have been. Freestyle BMX is a series of calculated risks; this was one I didn’t want to take.”
Dean shakes his head in disappointment. “And here I was thinking that crash of yours rid you of all sense.”
“Hang on,” I say, “I thought I was a risky investment. Isn’t that why you bought Bishop on board? So you could hedge your bets?”
He shrugs. “Bishop is done. He’s unoriginal and is pulling tricks that were impressive two years ago and now are tired. He hasn’t placed in a comp since Vegas. I’m done with him.”
“Just like that?”
Again, he shrugs. “That’s business.” It’s at this moment I realise that what Bishop and I do will never be more than business to Dean. He doesn’t live and breathe freestyle like we do. Hell, I doubt he even likes it.
“Do you even like freestyle BMX?” I ask. “Or any extreme sport?”
“More of a single horse power kind of guy,” he says.
“Seriously?” I ask. “So why the fuck are you in this industry?”
“The money is better. Teens are reckless with their spending and are easily led. Horse racing is expensive, and so damn hard to predict. With extreme sports, there’s always someone new coming up, so if I pick a dud, I can drop him in an instant.”
And there it is, the ugly truth about Dean Toms. My family may not be hooked up the way he is, but what we do have, we back with our heart and soul. I take my keys out of my backpack and unhook the Lexus fob. “Here,” I say, handing it to him. I dig out the parking ticket for the airport too. “It’s parked in the long-term lot at Coolangatta.”
“What?” he sputters.
“I’ve been thinking. This”—I motion between us—“isn’t working for me anymore.”
He scoffs. “Be real, Jax.”
“I am,” I say. “You were a port in the storm for me and I’m incredibly thankful for everything you’ve done for me, but I’m afraid I just can’t work with someone who doesn’t live and breathe this sport. Plus, your careless disregard for my safety just then leads me to believe that you are not abiding by the duty of care clause under my contract.” I may have been doing some reading for Bentley, and it may have managed to get stuck in my thick head. Who would’ve known it would come in handy? “And so, Dean,” I sneer, “I’ll be terminating my contract for that reason.”
“And just who do you think you’ll be riding for?” he asks, his expression smug. “You think your family will take you back?”
This time, it’s my turn to shrug. “Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe I’ll retire. What I do know, though, is whatever I do, it won’t be with you.” I pick up my helmet and head towards the lift to take me to the top of the ramp again, flipping him off as I go.
Once I get up there, I stand there for a while, just looking out, in case I never get to be up here again. I get ready to roll in, but before I do, I take a second to amp up the crowd. With their roars in my ears, I drop in.
I end up getting home late. Much later than I expected, especially since I had to get a taxi, seeing as I gave my car back to Dean. Bentley is already in bed, fast asleep. I take her in; her long hair, currently red, orange, and yellow, is all over the place, a calm, peaceful look on her face. I pull out the box I got when I went shopping while I was away, and pull out the ring I bought. Cost me a pretty penny too. It’s a square-cut, three-carat solitaire on a platinum band. Carefully, so as not to wake her, I slide it on the ring finger of her left hand. I know it’ll be a hell of a surprise when she wakes up, but I’m confident that ring will be there for the rest of our lives.
When I wake up the next morning, the first thing I notice is Bentley’s bare left hand.
“You took your ring off,” I say, my voice still thick with sleep.
“I don’t recall ever saying yes to wearing it,” she says, “or being asked to wear it in the first place.”
Hmmm, she doesn’t seem impressed. This wasn’t how things worked out in my head. “Is this because I didn’t do the whole get-down-on-one-knee thing?” I ask.
“No, it’s because you didn’t ask in the first place.”
“Okay, so if I ask now, will you wear it?”
“No,” she says.
“What do you mean no?”
“I mean no, I won’t marry you.”
“Why not?” I ask, genuinely puzzled. Here I am, BMX god extraordinaire, who bought his woman one hell of a kick-arse ring, and she’s saying no? To me?
“Because I don’t want to get married,” she says.
“To me?”
She shakes her head. “To anyone. I think the whole marriage thing is antiquated.”
“So it’s not a no to me so much,” I say, trying to put this in terms that are relevant to me.
She cups my face. “No, it’s not a no to you specifically. Well, it is, but it’s more the institution than you, the person.”
“So you would marry me if it wasn’t so, what was the word you used? Antiquated?”
“Sure,” she says flippantly. “But marriage is what it is. I become your wife. I take your name. Where am I in all of that? By saying yes to you, I don’t want to say goodbye to me. I’m afraid that by marrying you I might lose myself.”
I feel my heart soften just that little bit towards the woman who is my world. “What happens if we had separate bank accounts and you kept your last name?”
“It’s more than just that,” she says, giving me a small smile.
“So tell me.”
“It’s just, I don’t feel the need to have a piece of paper tying me to you for the rest of my life.”
“Okay, fair enough, I can get that,” I say. “Can I tell you what it means to me?”
“Sure.”
I take a deep breath. “My nan and Pa were together for eighteen months before she died. My ma and Pop were together almost ten years before she died. We have kind of shitty luck when it comes to women,” I say.
“Okay,” she says, clearly not getting where I’m going with this.
“My brothers and I have grown up with this hanging over our heads. It took Reed a lot to get over it with Bria, and Park… I don’t think he’ll ever get over it, not after losing Chris’s mum too. To me, marriage is about keeping you close and letting you and the world know that for as long as you are on this earth, you are part of our family.”
“Okay, that was lovely,” she says.
“So will you wear the ring now?” I ask.
“I’ve been through a lot of stuff too, Jax. What happened with Ethan… it stripped me of who I was. It’s taken a lot for me to get to the point where I’m happy with what I see in the mirror. I don’t want to lose that. I can’t lose that. Not again.”
“I’m not asking you to give up who you are,” I tell her.
“I know you’re not, but a part of me feels like I have to choose between you and me.”
“I’m asking you to be a part of my family!” I shout. “That’s not asking you to choose. It’s about bringing you into a part of something that is the core of who I am.”
She sighs. “It’s nothing against you, Jax. This is all about me and my hang-ups. Please don’t be like this.”
“Like what? I ask you to marry me, and you give me some bullshit women’s lib argument. I want to be with you, Bentley, for the rest of my life, and right now I have no fucking clue what you want.”
She sighs again. “I just want you, without all the bells and whistles. Isn’t that what really matters? You and me together?”
I run a hand through my hair. While I’m majorly bummed she didn’t jump at the chance to be my wife, as well as the fact that we’re not having engaged-people sex right now, I understand her reasoning. I’ll even accept it, for now. This doesn’t mean I’m giving up. I still want to see that ring on her finger. Just quietly, I reckon I’ve got a chance of getting it there soon, too. “I hope you mean that, ’cause I split from Dean yesterday, so a lot of those bells and whistles will probably be disappearing soon.”
That stops her in her tracks. “You what?”
“I realised he wasn’t in it for the right reasons. He dropped Bishop too, so now he has no one.”
“Wow. So what now?”
I shrug. “I dunno. I thought I was going to be planning a wedding, but clearly that’s not going to happen… although,” I say, a mischievous gleam in my eye, “I still reckon with a little bit of time and my special persuasive powers I could get you to agree.”
“Special persuasive powers?” she asks, doubtful.
“Oh yeah,” I say as I crawl over her. “I’m all about persuasion.” She leans back easily, her legs falling open. “Shall I show you how persuasive I can be?”
“Give it your best shot, dude.”
“Now will you marry me?” I ask, as I roll off her, both of us panting and covered in a sheen of sweat.
“Good try,” she says, patting my stomach, “but the answer’s still no.”
Hmm, this might be more difficult than getting her to go out with me in the first place. “You know what,” I say, leaning up on my elbow and facing her, “challenge accepted.”
“What? No, Jax, there is no challenge.”
“Your mouth is saying that, but I can tell you don’t mean it, so game on, darlin’. No one can resist me, not even you.”
“You’re really not giving up?” she asks, a touch of fear in her eyes.
“Nope. I will have you wearing that ring and I will be calling you wifey.” She huffs out a breath. “Give in yet?” I ask, hopeful. She shakes her head. “Never mind,” I say, getting up. “I can wait, and I’m determined. I’m like a little lost puppy who follows you around everywhere.”
“That’s really how you want me to accept your proposal?” she asks. “Purely to stop you moping around the place or because you annoyed the shit out of me?”
“Whatever it takes, wifey. Come on, Buttons,” I say to the cat, who has been watching us for the past fifteen minutes, “let’s get you some breakfast and let wifey-mummy have some alone time.” Bentley sighs as I scoop up the cat, but I know she’ll be wearing my ring eventually.