Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

Loving Brothers

Hendrick

Valley High won. Flynn was MVP. Twenty-one points.

Brogan

He killed. The other team tried three different defenses to shut him down. #unstoppable

Archer

Who the hell changed the group name again?

Hendrick

Do you even have to ask?

Brogan

Archer

Knox, how’s the event? Are you riding tonight?

Me

Nah. Probably be awhile still. Congrats, little brother. How many assists?

Hendrick

He’s probably not checking his phone. He went over to Pete’s house after the game.

Brogan

Speaking of partying…I’m out. Later, losers.

Hendrick

So much for loving brothers, huh?

Shaking my head, I fire off a text to Flynn outside of our group chat to tell him congrats and let him know I’ll be home late tonight if he needs a ride home.

We’re about thirty minutes from the start of the event. Everything is set up and Colter and his team of riders are warming up and making any final tweaks as the crowd settles in.

My part is mostly done. I’m on standby if anyone needs anything, but everyone is pretty hands-on here. If they need something, they don’t wait around for someone to do it. I guess that’s a luxury I forgot about, having an entire team around me dedicated to making sure I had whatever I needed.

Colter drives off the track and stops in front of me. “Pretty cool, right?”

“Yeah.”

He grins knowingly. “Not long before you’ll be warming up with us.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“How are things going with Avery?”

“Honestly?” I ask. When he nods, I say, “I’m not sure it’s helping.”

“Stick with it. Maybe it’s not the answer for you, but I swear it made a huge difference for me. She’s tough as nails.”

“Yeah,” I agree, chuckling. “That she is.”

“I can’t tell if you two are going to kill each other or tear each other’s clothes off.”

“Definitely the first.” Not that I haven’t thought about the latter.

Laughing, he drops one foot to the ground and stares at me through the visor opening of his helmet. “Why don’t you go sit in the crowd?”

Confusion mars my brow. “Kicking me off the crew already?”

His eyes dance with amusement. “Get some distance from it. Watch the tricks. Really watch. You’re so close to nailing it.”

I’ve been watching for two weeks, but I’d hop around on one foot blindfolded if he thought it would make a difference.

“What about Patrick?”

“He can handle himself.” With a rev of his engine, Colter takes off.

I check with Pat, make sure he has my number, and let him know where I’ll be in case he needs anything. Then I head out the side gate.

Colter hadn’t been kidding about the Valley event being small by comparison to the others planned. This stadium is packed, and the energy is high. It thrums under my skin, reminding me of when I used to enter small local races as a kid. The motocross events are bigger and flashier, but there’s no matching the energy here. It’s simple in a way I forgot it could be. Maybe that’s just me romanticizing it from the sidelines.

I miss being out there. I even miss Mike and his frequent pep talks on doing better, working harder. Like I haven’t put in the effort to be the best. I’ve worked my tail off for that. No pep talk needed. It’s a primal desire deep inside of me. I don’t want to do anything unless I’m trying to be the best.

I find a spot at the top of the first section and settle in. A little kid is bouncing on the bleacher next to me. He’s holding a toy motorcycle in his hand, eyes glued to the track. His mother shoots me an apologetic look that isn’t necessary. I still feel like that about racing. I’ve just learned to keep my body still while my insides jump with uncontainable excitement.

I’d written Colter’s advice off when he asked me to go sit in the crowd. I’ve watched them do these tricks a million times back at the practice track. But there’s something about the stadium lights and the extra adrenaline in their movements that has me seeing it with fresh eyes.

My phone vibrating in my pocket pulls me back down from the clouds. I’m getting to my feet, expecting Pat. Definitely not Avery.

I sit back down as I read her message twice.

Unknown

So I’ve been thinking. Maybe you’re right and my workouts suck. Also, this is Avery.

Smiling, I tap out a reply.

Me

No, it isn’t. Avery would never admit her workouts suck.

In response she sends me a selfie of her scowling directly at the camera.

Me

Did hell freeze over? Feels pretty warm here in Chandler, but maybe it hasn’t reached me yet.

Avery

To be fair, you haven’t exactly been a picnic to work with. If we’re going to do this, then I need to know you’re in it.

Me

I showed up all week and did handstands. What more proof do you need? Blood oath?

Avery

Tempting.

Dots dance along the bottom of the screen indicating she’s typing more. I glance back up at the track. We’re at a short break in the jumps and Brooklyn is riding around while standing on top of her bike. When she hops down and stops in front of the fence, she revs the engine and burns out. The crowd loves it.

I drop my gaze back to my phone.

Avery

I will do everything I can to help you, but I need you to be open to whatever I throw at you.

Me

I draw the line at cartwheels.

She sends another scowling selfie. I look past her to the background of this one. She’s somewhere in a crowd. An apartment or house maybe. There are guys behind her and one of them is definitely checking her out.

Me

Where are you?

Avery

Don’t change the subject, buddy.

Buddy? Seriously?

Colter and the team line up for one of their synchronized tricks. The timing is damn beautiful. A shot of pride rushes through me. Which is the only explanation for what I type next.

Me

Fine. I’m in. I’ll do anything you want.

A few minutes pass without a response.

Avery

Wow. That was easier than I expected. This is Knox, right?

I snap a selfie and hit send.

Avery

The alien did a very good job with your face. It looks almost identical.

Me

Is that your way of saying you like my face?

Avery

See you Monday.

Me

I’ll be there.

I’m about to pocket my phone again when she sends one more.

Avery

Oh and Knox…there’ll definitely be cartwheels involved.