Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Cute dog.” I wanted to tell him about Oz, but that would mean mentioning Jonas and… No. Couldn’t risk it.
“Yep. Rickie is the best damn dog I’ve ever had. She sat right by the couch after all my surgeries.” He flipped to a picture of a grinning blonde woman holding a small boy. “My wife was pretty smart. I’m glad she made me wait. And this little guy? He came along that next winter after all the operations were done.”
“Looks like a smart kid.” I had a half-second flash of a house on a piece of land somewhere, kids running around with a hose and a pack of dogs. I made myself laugh instead of getting lost in the image. “Kid must take after your wife.”
Mark predictably took the ribbing in stride, laughing as he flipped to another pic, this one a tiny blonde girl.
“Little sister is the wife’s real mini-me and keeps us all in line.” He turned to a pic that had to be more recent, two slightly bigger kids on little bikes on a long driveway. “This is them on their bikes at Christmas time. Junior says he wants a dirt bike for his birthday.”
“You gonna get him one?”
“Of course.” Mark’s expression turned fond and parental. “And the best helmet money can buy. And to think, a few years ago, I had no clue what I’d do without racing. I was as low as I’d ever been when they carted me off for the last time.”
“I bet.” My chest went tight and my jaw stiffened, teeth clenching.
“But my life didn’t end.” Mark held my gaze. “It was just getting started.”
“Yeah.” I nodded because that was the point of this little exercise. He wanted me to see that he wasn’t lost without racing. But all I could see was his little family, the one he could show anyone, even a passing acquaintance like me. His pride and love shone through every word and picture.
No closets there. Jealousy, ugly and slimy, threatened to clog my throat. Mark was undoubtedly trying to help. He didn’t know each picture hit me like a sharp rock in the roost spray from a dirt bike.
“Mr. Murphy?” A medical assistant in pink scrubs mercifully called my name.
“Thanks for chatting, Mark.” I used the sort of professional tone he always ended interviews with. “Nice running into you.”
I could hardly share the truth, that I could have done without this encounter adding to my jumble of thoughts and emotions.
“Same to you. And, Declan? For what it’s worth, I hope you go out there and get the championship we all know you’re capable of. I meant it about life after racing, but I hope you get to go out on your own terms. Truly.”
“Thanks. Appreciate it,” I said gruffly, motioning to the medical assistant to let her know I was coming. I could see it, holding the championship plate high, the crowd roaring, champagne flowing. I’d visualized that moment for years, and someone like Mark, an absolute legend in the sport, believing in me was huge. I had to blink repeatedly. Damn dry Arizona air.
“And down the road, when that day comes, you know you’ll have my bosses on the phone within hours, judging your interest in broadcasting.”
I made a sour face at his blatant flattery. “Oh, no one wants me in front of a camera sounding dumb.”
“What do you mean? You’d have options up the wazoo for post-riding jobs, but you’re one of the smartest riders I’ve ever met.”
“Mr. Murphy?” The medical assistant stepped closer.
“Coming.” I gave Mark one last nod. Smart. I’d been called many things over the years, but rarely that. Mark was the rider they’d called the mad scientist because he was smart and crafty. An analytical and natural rider who won championship after championship on the biggest stages.
Me? I was built of bone and muscle and determination. I might not be the smartest, but I was scrappy. I could out work anyone. And I’d worked too damn hard to get here, ready to give it one more shot. Like Mark said, I was capable of championships. Whatever my doubts and reservations, I owed it to myself, my team, and the whole sport to give it my best effort to get back out there and ride.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Declan
Get out there and ride. A few hours after my appointment and assorted tests, my brain kept returning to that weighty thought. What would it mean if I never got the chance to try? Could I really walk away like Mark had? I didn’t see myself as a commentator. What if I had no choice? The wait for the final determination on my future made every minute feel like a century.
I stood near the gates where we practiced starts over and over, resting a hand on the battle-scarred metal. Familiar sounds of dirt bikes and machinery filled the afternoon. I gazed off into the distance, where Cyrus and others were putting in laps on the latest model bikes.