Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Declan

"Time is running out." Joey's voice in my ear made me wince on multiple levels. I shouldn't have picked up the phone, but I was sitting at the breakfast nook, noodling with my latest puzzle while I waited to leave for the football fundraiser. Boredom. Got me every time.

"I know." I'd been avoiding calls from the team, but Joey had known I wouldn't continue to send one of my oldest supporters to voicemail. And I hated this for him, hated that he'd drawn the short straw to seek an update, and hated that he was also in a holding pattern, waiting for me to be race-ready. We were nearing the end of February. Time was indeed of the essence. "It's the doctors at this point. I'm still having headaches, so they don't want to release me from the concussion protocol. The doctors keep saying I'm not ready to ride or race."

"But you could ride if they signed off?" Joey pressed. Outside, the early evening chill had arrived, or maybe that was simply my reaction to the question.

"Yeah. My foot feels almost normal. No more cane." I'd graduated to walking in supportive shoes, no boot, at last. Like the first shoots of green showing up for spring, I could feel my old self returning. "I'm done with PT after this week."

In fact, I was back to doing something resembling actual cardio and weight training. However, I could do without the headache and light sensitivity that intense cardio inevitably brought on. Weights were good as long as I didn't push the overhead lifts.

"Good, good." Joey made a sucking sound like he had a piece of gum in his mouth. I clicked another two puzzle pieces in place while waiting for him to continue. "That's why the manufacturer wants a second opinion on your head."

"Like another doctor?" I groaned. The last thing I wanted was more appointments. And yeah, my doctor in Portland frustrated me, but for all I complained, I did trust the dude.

"Yep. They've got someone here in Arizona for you to see." Joey sounded unusually matter-of-fact and businesslike. "The team wants you to come on down so everyone can get on the same page as far as the season and your future."

Oh fuck. I should have anticipated being summoned sooner, but instead, I physically recoiled in my chair, my body moving back as if I'd taken a punch to the stomach.

"When?" My voice sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a mine shaft.

"Next week. Tanya's gonna be in touch to book your flight." He mentioned the long-suffering assistant to the team who handled all our travel details and administrative duties. "Here's to hoping the next trip is a one-way. We need you back, brother."

"Yeah." My tone remained hollow as my brain spun. I should have been relieved that I was this much closer to getting back to racing and that a second opinion might be the solution, but I was filled with a cold, drippy dread.

"Between you and me, Cyrus isn't half the rider you are." Joey's voice was hearty, the same one he used for every pre-race pep talk. "He's not fearless enough. Needs to give ‘em a tug."

"Oh, I know how to tug ‘em." I gave the stock reply, born of years of bantering, but inside, the word fearless kept rattling around. I wasn't sure if I could ever be truly fearless out there again. No one other than Jonas knew that I'd been having nightmares, and even he didn't know that I kept replaying the little snippets of the accident I could remember. Merely remembering the jolt of hitting the rut was enough to turn my stomach. I must have been convincing enough because Joey chuckled.

"I know you do. You've got brass stones. No one attacks the start like you. You've got that fire, so we just gotta get you back on the bike." He was my number one hype person, and God knew I needed it right then.

"Yep." I had to work to keep my voice confident. Thankfully, I heard footsteps coming down from upstairs. "Listen, I gotta run. I'm going to this high school football fundraiser."

"Look at you, living the small-town life." Joey whistled. "Gotta be bored silly, unless the local girls are taking good care of you." He laughed at his own joke. I didn't, but he continued anyway, "Damn, you're gonna be so happy to get back on tour for the season."

"You know it." I hoped Joey was right, but as I hung up the phone, my main emotion was relief. I pocketed the phone and shook my hands out, trying to let go of the tension of the call as John loped into the kitchen. "Hey, John. You ready?"

"Yep. Nice puzzle." He nodded at my work-in-progress, another mystery puzzle, this one a treasure hunt. When Jonas was around, he helped me with the puzzles, but I'd found a certain satisfaction in doing them by myself as well.

"The others will meet us there, I guess." He shrugged before grabbing car keys off a hook by the backdoor. "Seems like everyone pulled overtime the same night."

"It happens." My tone was pragmatic, but in reality, I was also a little frustrated by the unpredictability of Jonas's hours in particular. He always apologized and tried hard to make it up to me when he had to cancel plans, but I still hated not knowing exactly when I'd see him. I'd been looking forward to going to this movie night fundraiser with him, both because I enjoyed his company and as a buffer for these teen fans John wanted to introduce me too.

Predictably, the guys into dirt bikes were full of questions as they crowded around John and me.

"Which tires do you like for sand?" One of the kids, a skinny guy with glasses who apparently was the kicker for the football team, had the Notes app open on his phone and was legit writing down my answers.

"Everyone says you're a born mudder." Another guy, a brash giant who had to be some sort of tackle or lineman, wasn't taking notes as much as pumping me for stories. "What's the worst track you've raced?"

"Who was your first sponsor?" The third wannabe rider was a cocky dude, short but sturdy. He had dark hair, not red, otherwise I would have bet he was a distant Murphy cousin. "Yeah, give us the hookup on how to get free shit."

"Hard work." I didn't have to force my smile. These guys were earnest in the way most fifteen- to eighteen-year-olds were, bragging about different rides and tracks they'd attempted. The giant kid had brought a motocross shirt for me to sign, which was cool. I'd forgotten how good a little hero worship could feel, how validating it was to be pumped for information and recognized for my success.

I hated some parts of being famous, and over the last few months, I'd focused more on those negatives. It was nice to feel a few flashes of my old self, reminders of how good it could feel to work a fan zone or appearance.

Eventually, the loud noises in the crowded gym started to get to me, all the questions along with the dozens of other conversations swirling around as we waited for the movie to start. A dull ache started in my temples, and the lights seemed about a hundred watts brighter.

"Hey, man, you okay?" John asked, tapping my arm.

"Yeah, just a headache."

"My mom gets those." The nerdy kicker finally put away his note-taking app. "Caffeine helps. You want a soda?"

"Sure." I handed over some cash for the concession stand and sank onto a nearby folding chair, grateful for a few minutes of semi-quiet. However, my solitude was short-lived as my dad's friend and the town football coach, Tony, wandered over to sit next to me.

"I saw you talking with the guys. That was nice of you." Tony nodded at me. "All they've been able to talk about since football season ended is dirt bikes and racing, but they're good kids."

"Yeah." I glanced across the gym where Tony's guy, Caleb, was manning one of the concession stands with his younger brother. Caleb kept smiling and joking, and I didn't miss the fond look he shot Tony. "None of the players…" I paused because I'd wanted to ask this question for weeks now, but I didn't want to misstep. However, it was now or never as far as chances. "The players or their folks don't hassle you? About Caleb?"

"First, I wouldn't stand for that." Tony adopted a sharp tone before softening. "And second, no. It's a different generation than when I played ball in high school, for sure. Most of the press about the team and me has been good. Just don't read the comment sections."

"Yeah." My voice came out weak and distant. I lived in dread of comment sections. Hell, I could all too easily imagine neutrally worded announcements or gossip being picked apart by amateur motocross commenters and internet trolls alike. "Maybe the world is changing."

"It is." Tony nodded, peering at me like he might see dirt on my face or something. "You okay?"

"Sick of being asked that." I groaned. Tony was a nice guy and didn't deserve my snapping. "Sorry. I'm fine. Just a lot on my mind tonight."

"Anything in particular?" Tony managed to appear older and wiser but also approachable and compassionate as he leaned toward me. "We could step outside."

"Nah." I clenched my hands to stop them from shaking. Tony's offer didn't mean he'd guessed a damn thing, but ever since Maren had walked in on Jonas and me, I'd been steeling myself for the next discovery. "I'm cool."

"Suit yourself." Tony moved along before the movie started. The group of guys interested in riding returned with sodas and food, but the beginning of the family film about talking pets was enough distraction to keep their questions to a minimum. During the intermission, my dad finally showed up, shower damp hair and breathless as usual from being triple-booked.

"Hey, Dad."

"Hey, yourself." He grinned and grabbed an empty chair near me. "See? I made it by the second half of the movie."

"Good for you." I tried to return his smile, but my mouth refused to move. I was tired, tired of this day, tired of always having a damn headache, tired of this fundraiser, tired of my dad always running behind, and tired of pretending like everything was peachy.

"You okay?" Dad leaned forward, exactly as Tony had, staring into my eyes. "Head hurting again?"

"Nah," I lied. If I was headed to Arizona next week, I needed to get good at minimizing my symptoms in a hurry. No one liked a whiner. "Just a lot of noise and more people here than I expected."

"I remember when you were a kid. You hated crowds." Dad shook his head, eyes misty, clearly lost in a memory. "Now you race in front of fifty thousand fans on the regular."

"Yep." This whole evening had been a big reminder of who I was. I wasn't the sporty, introverted kid anymore. I was Declan Murphy. I'd made a name for myself. I was, as Joey said, fearless. I attacked. I didn't hide away in small towns like one of the rom-coms Jonas and Rowan loved. "Some of the kids here were fans. Talking to them was cool. Made me even more eager to get back out there."

"Don't be in too big of a rush," Dad cautioned in what would be the perfect opening to tell him my news about going back to Arizona. Strangely, I wanted to talk it over with Jonas first, not chance him finding out via secondhand gossip. Also, despite the fact that my mid-twenties loomed, my dad's warnings always managed to make me feel like an impatient and uncertain eight-year-old.

Instead, naturally, I did what I did best and changed the subject. "Any of the others coming?"

"The kids are over there." Dad pointed out Wren and Rowan sitting near the front, holding large bowls of popcorn. Like me, Rowan was also in waiting mode, hoping to hear about the show soon, so I'd endured a lot of decorating talk the past few weeks. "Eric is on the way, but Jonas is stuck at the hospital. They're so short-staffed lately. He's having to cover NP hours and admin work."

"Yeah." Maybe I should have told my dad my news. If Jonas was alerting others about his schedule first, maybe I was less of a priority than I'd thought. I tapped my fingers against my phone in my pocket. "Guess it means Jonas is good at what he does."

"That, and the guy is incapable of saying no to a damn thing," Dad added.

I had no doubts Jonas was an amazing leader and nurse practitioner, but I still had to nod my agreement. My teeth gritted every time he said yes to another shift. Also, was I one of those things he couldn't say no to? Afterall, I was the one who'd pressed for more kissing and usually sought him out first. What if he'd be happy about my news? More time for work, at least.

"Think you can give me a ride home after the movie?" I asked Dad, both as a matter of practicality and to force my mind away from Jonas.

"Of course." Dad grinned, the same wide Murphy grin my grandpa had, the same eyes as mine sparkling. "Glad you asked."

Dad would be sad when I went back to Arizona. Oh, he wouldn't say anything, stoic to the end, but he'd miss me. And I hadn't exactly done a great job of spending time with him while I was here. Now, time was running out on numerous fronts.

"Maybe I can stop in and see the cats for a moment." I made the offer sound casual, but Dad's obvious pleasure was serious stuff. Maybe I needed to look beyond our personality differences and make more of an effort.

"I'd like that." He nodded, grinning even wider. "Denver doesn't drink, but I've got a way better root beer than the generic soda they're serving here and some vanilla ice cream in the freezer."

"You're on." I smiled back. I'd break my dad's heart all over again when I told him I was leaving. And as for Jonas, it was a toss-up which of us would be the heartbreaker first. Perhaps that was why I'd offered to spend time with my dad. Delaying the inevitable hard conversations sounded pretty damn good right then.