Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

I toss my helmet to the ground, clench my jaw, and let out a low growl of frustration. The weight of Flynn’s stare keeps me from completely losing my shit.

A week of practice and my improvements are minimal. At this rate I’ll be ready to perform never. I so badly want to give up, but my pride won’t let me.

I flop down next to my little brother, and we watch Colter and his team as they start their practice. They have another event next weekend and they’re adding in a group backflip. It’s a simple trick for all of them but getting the timing down so their spacing and flight are identical is harder.

Flynn had a rare day off from basketball practice, so I picked him up and brought him back to the track with me. Hendrick and Jane have been helping a lot with driving him and doing shit around the house so I can practice longer, but I’ve missed hanging out with him one-on-one.

“This is so rad,” he says, grinning as they come around for the second time.

One side of my mouth lifts. “Yeah, they’re pretty good.”

The usual crew is here: Colter, Brooklyn, Oak, and another local guy, Shane, that they all refer to as “Momma Bear” but only when he isn’t listening because Shane is big and burly and could beat up all of them at the same time. And then four others from all over the West Coast drove in so they could run through one last practice together before next weekend.

Last weekend’s event was the smallest crowd they’re expecting and more like a run-through in front of a crowd. Over the next few months, they’ll go from Oregon to Texas, performing in large venues to sold-out crowds. Or I guess we’ll go, since I somehow got myself roped into this.

“Do you think you can teach me how to do some tricks?” Flynn turns his head to glance at me quickly before returning his attention to the track.

My brows lift. “Fuck no.”

“Why not?”

“You want to play college ball next year?”

His head bobs.

“Then let’s keep you in one piece until you’ve signed somewhere.”

He doesn’t look at me or answer, but I catch an eye roll.

“Are you going to perform with them next weekend?” he asks instead.

“Doubtful. I can’t land anything impressive yet. I might not ever be ready, but since I have some time on my hands it’s a good way to kill time.”

Flynn tears his gaze away from the riders. “Hendrick told me what you’re trying to do—show your old coach that you can be part of a team without punching anyone.”

I feel my brows lift. “I didn’t punch anyone. I shoved him a little.”

“Looked like you wanted to punch him though.”

“Oh, I definitely wanted to.” Might as well have for the way things ended up. “I don’t know, maybe it’s a stretch to think they’ll take me back no matter what I do.”

“Nah, I think it’s a good idea.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. It’s like when Coach Cook benches one of us for hogging the ball. He always threatens to make us sit there until we have splinters, but he never does. He just needs time to cool down, then he gives us another chance. Your team will too.”

“I hope so. I really don’t want splinters in my ass.”

My brother smirks and then we fall quiet as we watch the bikes take off up the ramp and spin in the air.

“We should get you home,” I say, finally pulling myself off the ground. “Do you have homework tonight?”

“A little.” He stands in front of me. Sometime over the last month he’s shot up another inch. He’s lanky still, not quite grown into his body, but he’s going to be the tallest and broadest of all of us someday.

Flynn stands in front of the truck, watching the riders until my bike is loaded, then he walks backward and pulls himself up into the passenger seat, never tearing his gaze away.

“How long has it been since you rode?” I ask him.

He shrugs, lifting both shoulders up to his ears. “I don’t know. Nine years or so. I think I was eight.”

Since Mom died. A lot changed after that. I silently curse myself for not taking him with me. I rode to get away from everything, but Flynn didn’t have that option. That’s probably why he started playing every school sport that he could.

“We should go sometime. I know some good easy spots out on the east side of town where we can take the bikes and ride.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever.”

I hold back a smile at him trying not to appear too eager, but I catch the smile he’s fighting.

Later that night I’m lying in bed, muscles tight and so exhausted I’m fighting sleep before it’s completely dark outside. Archer and Brogan are playing video games and their voices carry through the thin walls.

Scrolling through Instagram, I heart a couple of photos of chicks I’ve hooked up with in the past. I can’t remember the last time I went out and cut loose. Since the end of the season, I’ve been wound too tightly.

Messages start to pop up in response to my liking pictures, but before I click on them, I come to Flynn’s most recent post. My breath catches as I read the caption. My brother is a badass. Wait until you see the other tricks up his sleeve. And above it is a video of me performing a heel clicker. It actually doesn’t look too bad. He caught me at just the right angle.

I watch it a dozen times, rereading his words and letting them fill me with hope and determination.

I sit up, groaning as I do, and close out of the app. I text Colter before I think better of it.

Me

I’m in. Send me Avery’s information.

If Flynn thinks I can do this, then I want to do everything I can to prove him right.