Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

I’m driving to pick up Flynn from basketball practice the following week when my phone vibrates in the cupholder. I pull over and stare down at the name on the screen with something like hope blooming in my chest. I pick it up, thumb hovering over the screen. I hit accept on the call and bring it to my ear. “Hey, Mike.”

“Knox.” My old team owner’s voice is upbeat and casual, giving me further hope that this call is good news. “Hey, how’s Valley?”

“Good,” I answer succinctly. “I’ve been training every day, working hard.”

“Yeah, I got your messages. I’m glad everything is going well.”

“It is. I’m feeling stronger than ever, and my times have never been better.”

“I’m really happy to hear that. Truly.”

“Does that mean you’re going to give me another chance?”

I hold my breath. This is it. I need back on the team. I need another shot. I’ve come too far for it to all be over before it’s really started.

His sigh twists my insides into knots. “Your riding was never the problem, Knox.”

“I’ll steer clear of Link.”

“I’m sorry, but I haven’t changed my mind.”

“This is bullshit.” My anger gets the best of me and the words fly out before I can stop them. “I can win. I’m going to win.”

All season I raced hard for them, bringing the Thorne team a lot of top finishes. I went from a has-been rider that everyone had forgotten about in the five years I’d been gone, to a top contender over the course of the season. That championship was mine to lose. Then one mistake and they toss me out. Me, instead of the guy who cost me the race. Accidents happen on the track, but Link knew what he was doing. He knew the risk and he decided he didn’t care. He was reckless and it cost me everything.

“It was never your ability to win that was the problem. You’re a talented rider, no doubt about it, but I’ve got two other guys to think about. This isn’t Team Knox. We’re a tight-knit group. We want guys that can work together and help each other out.”

I barely keep the words “Like Link helped me out?” from tumbling from my lips. This is bullshit.

“I like you, Knox, I do, but you’ve got a bad attitude, and your temper gets the best of you.”

“He cost me the championship!” I yell, wrapping my fingers around the steering wheel and squeezing hard. I don’t care that I’m proving his point by losing my cool. Link fucked up. Not me.

“And you caused a scene and broke your contract by fighting with your own teammate.”

I was pissed when I saw Link on the podium celebrating what should have been my victory. All I could see was red. I was so fucking close. Five years of sitting on the sidelines waiting for an opportunity and then there it was, so close I could almost feel that trophy in my hands…and then it was gone.

“It won’t happen again,” I say through gritted teeth.

He barks a short laugh. “It wasn’t an isolated event. You and Link were bickering all season. I know he isn’t perfect, but you should have been setting an example, not fanning the flames.”

“I said it won’t happen again.” I can keep my mouth shut and my hands to myself. I can do anything if it means getting another chance.

“Even if I believed that, I couldn’t convince the rest of ownership. We just can’t have that kind of atmosphere. You’re a liability we can’t afford.”

“Come on, Mike. One more shot, that’s all I’m asking.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, voice resolute. “I really am, but you won’t be racing with us next season.”

I close my eyes and let my head fall back.

At my silence, he adds, “If I were you, I’d spend the next few months reflecting on your actions. If you want to make this a career, you need to grow up and figure out how to stop letting your temper get the best of you. The racing world is small, and people talk.”

Grow up? He thinks I need to grow up. It’s laughable, really. He has no idea the responsibilities I had thrust on me at an early age or how much rests on my shoulders. I’m not looking for pity, I’d do it all over again. But now is my shot.

I just want to race. I want to win. And I’ll do whatever it takes to prove myself.

I park outside of the gym at Valley High School as Flynn is pushing out of the double doors with some of his basketball teammates. When he spots my truck, he juts his chin at his friends and then takes off at a jog toward me.

Flynn opens the passenger door and tosses a wad of Valley High crimson red material into the back with his duffel.

“What’s all that?” I ask.

“The new warmups came in.”

“Shit. I completely forgot.” I shift the truck into park. “Is your coach still in there?”

Flynn looks at me, a confused expression marring his sweaty brow. His reddish-brown hair is plastered to his forehead.

“To pay him,” I clarify. Flynn mentioned needing the money for warmups, but with everything going on, it slipped my mind.

“I already paid him.”

“Did you get a job when I wasn’t paying attention?” I ask, knowing damn well he didn’t. Keeping up with his schoolwork while playing sports is a full-time gig. I’ve done my best to make sure that he doesn’t have to stress about money for whatever he needs so he can focus on normal teenage stuff.

I want him to have the high school experience I didn’t. Our mom passed years before I was a senior and our dad was rarely around. Hendrick had already left for college, so it was on me to make sure we had a place to live and food to eat, plus clothes and school shit. I dropped out as soon as I turned eighteen and got a job at a local HVAC company so that we could all stay together, but even working full-time, extra cash to do things like go out with friends was rare.

It’s why I quit racing for a while. Motocross can get expensive with the constant bike upkeep and entry fees. The time away from work and my brothers was hard too.

Archer and Brogan helped out when they could, getting jobs over the summer and after school when it wasn’t football season, but I never wanted my brothers to feel like they needed to give up things or pick up my slack. One of us putting our dreams on hold was more than enough.

Flynn was only eight when Mom died. We protected him the most. It was never discussed, but looking back, I can see how we all gave up things so he could have the most normalcy.

“Hendrick gave me the money,” my little brother says as I’m pulled from my own thoughts.

Annoyed, not at him, but at myself for forgetting and then making it someone else’s problem, I do my best to keep my voice level as I reply, “I told you I’d give it to you.”

“I know, but I forgot to remind you and I needed it today, so I asked Hendrick when he dropped me off this morning.”

I nod, working my jaw back and forth. I should be thankful, but instead it makes me feel like I’m failing.

The one day I didn’t take Flynn to school. It’s usually me who drops off and picks up, but this morning I was on the phone making calls and worrying about my career, so when Hendrick offered to take our baby brother, I agreed. The other option—letting Flynn borrow my car—was absolutely not happening. He has his license, but drives like shit. He’s wrecked one car already.

“What’s for dinner? I’m starving. Coach made us run for thirty minutes today because a couple of guys were messing around.” It’s more words than Flynn usually says on our drive home, and I know it’s because he’s trying to smooth over my fuck-up. He can read me better than anyone.

We talk back and forth the entire ride, but the unease I feel doesn’t abate. As soon as we get to the house, Flynn heads straight for his bedroom.

Archer and Brogan are in the living room watching TV, and Hendrick and his fiancée, Jane, are sitting at the dining room table.

“Hey,” Hendrick calls as I set my keys on the kitchen counter. It’s followed by a chorus of hellos from everyone else. I murmur a greeting back distractedly as my gaze snags on the half-eaten lasagna.

“You made dinner?” The question comes out more accusatory than intended. It’s rare that anyone else cooks around here unless you count microwaveable meals.

“Jane did.” Hendrick looks at her like she invented the meal instead of cooked it. My oldest brother has it bad.

My stomach growls. It smells good and I skipped lunch. “Thanks, Hollywood.”

She shoots me a playful glare at the nickname. Jane starred in a TV show when she was younger. I never watched it, but I’ve heard her sing a time or two and her voice is incredible.

I fill a plate and take it to the dining room table. It’d be rude not to eat it, even if I was planning on grilling steaks tonight.

Jane’s doing homework at the table. She’s in her final year at Valley U, same as Brogan and Archer. Hendrick sits beside her, leaned back in a chair with a mug of coffee in front of him, studying her.

When Flynn comes out of his room to make a plate, it reminds me of the money. I drop my fork and grab my wallet, pull out some bills and plop them in front of my older brother.

“What’s this?” Hendrick asks, eyeing it carefully.

“It’s to pay for Flynn’s warmups.”

One brow rises and his head cocks to the side, then he pushes the cash back toward me. “Fuck off. I don’t want your money.”

“I’m not letting you pay for the warmups.”

“Why not?”

I know a loaded question when I hear one. “I’d already set aside the money. It just slipped my mind and I forgot to give it to him.”

I can tell Hendrick wants to argue, so I add, “If you won’t take it, I’m just going to shove it in the tip jar the next time I’m at the bar.”

“Can you make sure I’m working when you do?” Brogan asks without looking back at us from where he sits facing the TV.

Flynn takes a seat at the end of the table. His stare volleys between us. We’re a stubborn bunch, so it’s not abnormal that two or more of us would be bickering. All-out fights are less common, but also not out of the question.

Clearly annoyed, but resigned, Hendrick accepts the money. He hasn’t taken it yet, but he lets it sit between us as he resumes his position, leaning back with one arm resting behind Jane’s chair.

He can’t be paying for things right now anyway. He just opened a bar about a year ago. It’s doing well, but something always needs to be fixed, and he and Jane are planning a very elaborate and over-the-top wedding for next summer.

We all fall back into comfortable silence. I’m lost in my thoughts as I eat, turning over the day in my head. I got a good practice in at the track, but I’m still thinking about my call with Mike.

With a mouthful of food, Flynn mumbles, “Did you find a new team today?”

All eyes dart to me. I shake my head. The food I’m chewing doesn’t have quite the same appeal and I push my plate away from me. “No, not yet.”

After another beat of silence from everyone, Hendrick asks, “How many have you reached out to?”

All of them. “A couple.”

“You’ll find a team,” Flynn says optimistically. “You’re the best rider. They’d be dumb not to grab you while they have the chance.”

“Yeah, we’ll see,” I say, voice raw. My skin feels tight, and my mouth goes dry. I clear my throat and stand. When my plate is cleared and put in the dishwasher, I head straight out to the garage.

My body relaxes and my mind clears as I start tinkering with my bike. It’s not long after when Hendrick joins me. He holds a beer out to me.

“Thanks,” I say, accepting it.

He takes a drink from his bottle as he studies my movements. “I can remember the old man out here working on our bikes or messing with his motorcycle. Remember that four-wheeler he built?”

I grunt my acknowledgement.

“He was good with motors. So are you.”

Being compared to my dad, even for something positive, makes me want to burn the whole garage down and stomp on the ashes.

But fuck him, he doesn’t get to take this from me. His blood might run through my veins, but everything I have is because of my hard work.

“So, what’s the plan? Do you have more people to contact tomorrow or are you going to try to get Mike to change his mind?” Hendrick asks, sitting on the weight bench situated in the corner of the garage.

“I pretty much called everyone already,” I admit without looking up at him. “And Mike made it clear that they weren’t going to change their mind.”

“Did you tell him what Link said before the race? He was trying to take you out.”

“It doesn’t matter. It won’t change anything.”

“How do you know if you don’t tell him? Mike is a decent guy. If he knew the whole story⁠—”

“Drop it, okay?” Mike knows that the accident was Link’s fault. Everyone there knew it. They chalked it up to him being a young, hungry rider.

He looks like he wants to push but he doesn’t. Instead, he blows out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “I could ask my old agent if he has any ideas.”

I consider his offer. Hendrick played pro football for a while, but it’s been more than a year since he parted ways with his agent, and I doubt they keep in touch.

“Nah, that’s all right.” I don’t want anyone pulling strings for me. I want to earn this on my own. I crack open the beer and take a drink, then set it on the ground so I can go back to working on my bike.

“I could take Flynn to school again tomorrow, so you have time to figure it out.”

“I got him.”

“All right, well I can pick him up then.”

“No, it’s cool.” It’s not like I have a lot else to do. Work out, train, and try to figure out how I’m going to manage everything on my own next season.

Hen laughs, drawing my attention away from my bike. His eyes are lit with amusement and his lips curve into a smirk.

“What?” I ask, lifting one brow in challenge.

“You’re the stubbornest person I’ve ever met. You don’t want anyone else to help with Flynn or pay for shit or make dinner or call in favors.”

I stare at him, waiting for the reason that’s bad. I like to do things on my own, why does that make me stubborn?

“We want to help,” Hendrick says. “You riding again has been fucking awesome for all of us. You’re an inspiration. Especially to Flynn.”

I want to roll my eyes or tell him their help isn’t necessary, but something in my brother’s expression stops me. He levels me with a deep, worried look. “Let us fucking help. You’re not in this alone. I’m sorry that so much responsibility fell on you when Dad took off and I was gone, but I’m back now, Archer and Brogan are pitching in more, and Flynn would do anything to see you succeed. You’re his fucking hero, so start acting like it instead of pretending your dreams are secondary. It’s important for him to see you go after what you want.”

His words linger between us for a few quiet moments, then one side of my mouth quirks up. “Damn, Henny. When did you turn into a motivational speaker?”

“Did it work?” he asks, grinning and taking another drink.

“If there were any other options, then yeah, maybe, but I don’t think there are.” I understand what he’s saying, but I don’t see a way to fix this.

He nods slowly.

“I saw Colter last weekend and some of the local guys. I’ll ride with them and on my own, do what I can.” I shrug one shoulder.

“Colter.” His smile widens. “I remember you two riding like bats out of hell together. Mom was always afraid you were going to kill yourself trying to beat him.”

“Trying to?” I scoff. “I’m way faster.”

“Is he still racing?”

“No, he’s all-in on freestyle. He’s really fucking good too.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. You and he were always the best around.”

“He asked me to tour with his team during the off-season.”

“Doing freestyle?”

I wave it off. It’s not like I’m seriously considering it. “He said I could travel with them and help set up and tear down until I was ready to perform.”

“You should do it.”

“Why?”

“You need a team and he’s offering one.”

Not the right kind of team, though. None of his guys or Brooklyn race.

“Hear me out.” Hendrick leans forward and his eyes are bright. Every inch of him is brimming with excitement. “Thorne dropped you because you were a bad teammate.”

I clamp my jaw down at the reminder. Thanks a lot, bro.

“Show them you can be part of a team.”

“It’s a distraction and hours wasted that I could be training for next season.” Freestyle is fun to watch, but riding is what I want to do.

“Replace the hours that you’re moping around here with practicing some tricks. How hard could it be?”

Really fucking hard probably, but his excitement is so palpable that I find myself considering it.

“I’d be gone most weekends.”

“So? We survived during the season while you were at events.”

“It was summertime.” Brogan and Archer were chilling and enjoying the months off from college, and Flynn just had sports camps and practices to juggle.

“We will manage,” Hendrick reassures me.

“I don’t know,” I say, but I can’t shake off the idea. Could it really work?

“Promise me that you’ll at least consider it, okay?”

“Why are you pushing this so hard?” It’s more work for him and everyone else. It makes their lives harder, not easier.

“Because you told me once that I should fight like hell for my dreams because one of us should get a chance to chase them.”

“I was talking about you,” I remind him.

His dark, serious gaze locks on me. “I know you were, and I chased mine. I did what I wanted to do, and I don’t regret that it’s over. Now it’s your time. So, fight like hell for it.”