Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

Declan

"Don't ask me how the doctor went." I slid into the front seat of my dad's truck at the Portland medical complex he'd given me a ride to. Between my healing right leg and the TBI, the doctors continued to advise against me driving, which was a pain in the neck. Dad had actually asked off from work for the occasion, which was one of the reasons I was in a foul mood at this complete waste of time. I'd much rather he use a day off for something productive.

"That good?" Dad asked, mouth twitching like he wasn't sure whether to smile as he teased. While I was in my appointments, he'd gone to one of those big warehouse stores Mount Hope didn't have, and the backseat was piled high with paper goods, pet food, and assorted snack items.

"The doctor—the neurology specialist worth driving all this fucking way for—refuses to sign off me being able to ride again. As of now, I'm still in the tour's concussion protocol and unable to ride or race. And because it was a TBI, they are being even more strict than usual about deciding whether I'm healed enough." I thumped my head against the seat back. "Also, the doctor has had how many years of school? And yet no ability to predict when I might be cleared, nor does he have a clue what might work on these motherfucking headaches."

"Wow." Dad shook his head as he stopped for a busy pedestrian crosswalk. Unlike Mount Hope, Portland in February was cold and rainy with no trace of snow. "I thought we weren't talking about your appointments?"

"I'll shut up." I clamped my lips shut.

"That's not what I meant." Dad released a sigh like my drama was taxing, which it likely was. "Rant away."

"Fine." Talking to my dad wasn't at all like the easy comfort I enjoyed with Jonas. With him, I could complain and feel better because of Jonas's calm presence and judgment-free attitude. But my dad was right here, and we had a long-ass drive back to Mount Hope. "It's February. Everyone is gearing up for the start of the season. The racing team is asking when I'll be ready, and I don't have a clue. At least the orthopedist is better than the neurologist. She graduated me to the cane and more intense PT. Treadmill time. Woo-hoo."

"That's great." Dad completely missed my sarcasm. "You need to celebrate each bit of progress."

"Why?" I threw up my hands as we merged onto I-84, heading east to Mount Hope. And to Jonas, who was at work but, with any luck, would be back in time to help me not think about any of this for a little while. However, I couldn't think about future make-out sessions and how they made me feel while in the truck with my dad, so I resumed complaining. "I'm not any closer to getting back out there. I'm stuck in Mount Hope?—"

"I was under the impression you weren't hating the town," Dad said mildly like he wasn't in the middle of an all-out campaign to get me to stay. "The kids love having you around, and you seem to have made a friend in Jonas."

This would be yet another great moment to confess that Jonas was way more than a friend, but I was a chickenshit who didn't need another lecture. Also, the thought of coming out to my dad made everything else seem all too real. Once I told him, I might as well tell my mom in one of our sporadic phone conversations. Ditto my genius sister, who would undoubtedly say she'd always known. And once the rest of the Murphys knew, well, it was a short ride through the whoops to the whole damn world.

"I don't hate the people in town," I said instead. "I hate being trapped. I'm bored as fuck. Too much TV brings the headaches on. Ditto reading. The occupational therapist suggested I take up a craft. Uh-huh, as if."

"Knitting not happening?" Dad laughed at his own joke. I didn't. "I'm kidding. Never known you to sit still. Maybe it's time to think about what you'll do if you can't race? Take some classes at the community college?"

Oh, fuck no. I was so not ready to have this conversation. "What would you do if you couldn't be a firefighter?"

"I…I don't know." Dad went predictably pale and stricken. The son of a firefighter, he'd never imagined a different life for himself, whereas I'd never wanted to follow the family legacy. I'd wanted to blaze my own path, and now that was in jeopardy.

"Exactly." I shot him a pointed look. "Riding isn't a job. It's my life."

With that, we drifted into awkward silence, first me, then him fiddling with the stereo. Music made my pounding headache worse, but trying to eke out more conversation with Dad was even less appealing. We arrived back in Mount Hope as the too-early dusk settled over the town and neighborhood lights came on as folks returned home from work and school.

"You don't have to walk me in," I said as we exited the truck. Not for the first time, I noticed we had a similar manner of gesturing when we wanted to minimize a conflict. "I'm sorry for being so cranky."

"It's okay. You're allowed." There it was. He made the same gesture, the same resolute expression with the addition of a half-smile. Dad always had smiled easier than me, something I'd always envied him for. Despite my protest, Dad headed up the back steps with me. "And Denver volunteered us to help Wren with dinner tonight. Almost everyone will be home, so it's a chance to catch up and see what everyone's been up to."

I suppressed an inner groan because the last thing I wanted was for him to know what Jonas and I had been up to lately. "Cool."

I would have much rather been alone with Jonas and not thought about a damn thing. But Jonas wasn't home yet, and being alone wasn't an option, so I suffered through my dad kissing Denver hello while I washed my hands at the kitchen sink.

"Okay, Chef, put me to work," I told Denver. Ever since my accident, I'd been making more of an effort to be friendly with Dad's boyfriend. Anyone who'd dropped everything to come with Dad to the hospital deserved respect. Clearly, he planned on sticking around. "What can I make?"

"Salad," Denver said at the same time Dad said, "You don't need to help."

"I want to help." I clomped my way to the fridge with my cane and yanked out a package of mixed lettuce. "Trust me, salad isn't that taxing."

"Excellent." Denver had a too-hearty tone as he shot Dad a look. "Happy for the help. Here's a cucumber you can add."

"Sorry." Dad came over to the island where I was chopping cucumber on a cutting board. "It feels like I'm always saying the wrong thing with you."

"You're not." I exhaled hard. I would be hard-pressed to deny we'd always been an awkward pair, but I'd never once doubted his love. "Or at least not intentionally. You care. I get it."

Right then, John, the football-playing teen, came in with a gust of chilly air.

"Hey! I was hoping you'd be here." He sidled over to the island.

"Me?" I was surprised because, unlike Rowan, John hadn't shown much interest in my presence.

"Yeah. A couple of guys on the team are looking to do some motocross this off-season. I told them you lived with us, and they were super stoked. Would you want to meet them?"

"Uh…" I wanted to say no, but at the same time, I had a personal rule to never be mean to fans. But hell, this was Mount Hope, and I wasn't supposed to be famous here. Guilt crawled up my back, lodging in the base of my neck as the resurgence of my headache. I supposed I should be happy my name was still out there. The sport hadn't forgotten about me. Yet. "Maybe?"

"Awesome." John beamed like I'd given an enthusiastic yes. "There's a booster fundraiser coming up. Movie night. Perhaps you could come to that? Give my friends some advice?"

"Maybe," I said again, distracted by Jonas arriving home.

"Something smells great." He greeted everyone with a wide smile. It must have been an administrative day because he wore dress pants and a crisp blue shirt with a tie I wanted to remove with my teeth, nibbling his neck in the process.

But I couldn't do that, couldn't even risk a nod or a lingering look. Jealousy joined guilt in contributing to my growing headache. Why did my dad and Denver get to corner the market on PDA? I wanted that too.

"What you smell is dinner." Wren gestured at all the cooking prep. "Firehouse spaghetti, garlic bread, vegetables, and Declan made a salad."

"Awesome." Jonas darted his gaze toward me long enough for a quick, silent acknowledgment that we couldn't wait to be alone.

"I'll set the table." Jonas headed toward the dining room.

Grabbing my cane, I opened my mouth to volunteer to help, but John got there first, damn his quicker feet. "I'll help."

Yet again, I was stuck watching Jonas from a distance, including at dinner, as I ended up between my dad and John, who kept pumping me for riding tips for his friends.

"We need them in one piece for next football season."

"They might want a different second sport." My mouth twisted, my tone turning old and jaded. "Injuries are simply part of motocross."

"Football too." John shrugged. "Everything fun has risks."

"Word." I glanced over at Jonas, who was in conversation with Eric. He was the most fun risk I'd taken in a long time.

After everyone had their food, a very bouncy Rowan clinked his water glass. "I have a big announcement."

"The drama club drama is over?" John rolled his eyes in the way only a sibling could.

"No, this is much bigger than petty high school sh—stuff." Rowan sniffed, angular nose pointing at the chandelier. "And Dad already knows, but the rest of you don't."

"Better tell us before you detonate," Denver advised.

"I'm going to LA," Rowan all but chirped. "That new show loved my audition and singing, and they're flying me out for an in-person interview and read-through next weekend."

"Valentine's?" Wren made a disgusted face. "Thank God that's the weekend of the state science fair competition. I'll be gone all weekend."

"Way to make it about you." Rowan glowered at Wren.

"I'm just saying I won't have time to miss you or hear about how much you hate Valentine's Day." Wren's tone was all logical, but Rowan looked far from appeased.

"Heck. I forgot about the science fair." Eric released a groan. "I was thinking of going with Rowan."

"Because you don't trust me in LA alone."

"Because you need an outside opinion, especially since you've got a head full of stars and aren't exactly known for your street smarts," Eric countered.

"You should go with Wren on the science fair trip." Rowan's face scrunched up, making him look far younger and on the verge of a legit tantrum.

"Hey, I'm off that weekend." My dad, ever the peacemaker, spoke up. "Denver and I could go watch Wren, so you can go with Rowan."

Denver blinked, clearly not having been consulted about whether he'd like to spend Valentine's Day weekend with a bunch of teen science geniuses.

"Yeah, that would work," he mumbled. "Can you feed the cats, John?"

"I would, but that's the same weekend I'm snowboarding with Scotty and a bunch of the team. Who needs Valentine's?"

Me. Suddenly, I had a desperate need for the holiday I'd never had much use for before. "I could feed the cats."

"You could, or you could come with Denver and me if you don't want to be home alone."

"He won't be alone." Jonas managed to sound as casual as if he were reporting the number of plates needed for dinner. "I'll be around. We can toss on a movie or something if we get lonely for the rest of you."

Or something. It took all my willpower not to grin. "We'll be fine."

I can't wait.