“I missed it,” I replied once all the bikes started zooming around. The noise, the adrenaline. It was exhilarating and I was just watching from the sidelines. I used to love going to the races, but I hadn’t been back to one, or even watched one on television, since Reid left. I thought it was for the best, but maybe if I’d kept watching I would have seen how much faster and harder bikes were now. And how aggressive Reid Travers had become. He was always a good rider, but now he was a beast. Relentless and calculated, much more polished than the guy I remembered. Beau was doing his best to keep up, but I knew he was pushing his limits. I just really hoped he didn’t hurt himself.
I tugged at the hem of my shorts and pulled down the sleeves on the long sleeve t-shirt I was wearing. September in Illinois was hard to dress for—blistering hot one day, freezing cold the next. The fall was as unpredictable as the racing.
Georgia and I continued to watch the two of them go around the track. Reid would take the lead, but every time he started to back off, Beau was right there beside him pushing him into a turn and forcing him to throttle harder. It had been going on for at least four laps and neither showed any signs of stopping.
Brett and Hoyt watched on, and I could see the nervousness in their eyes from all the way across the track. The faster they seemed to go, the more Hoyt wrung his hands. Brett began to pace the side of the track like a caged wolf. They had to be thinking the same thing that Georgia verbalized.
“What happens if Reid gets hurt?” she asked. I’d thought it, but I didn’t want to be the one to put those words into the universe. “Doesn’t he have a contract or something that says he can’t be...doing whatever it is he’s doing out there?”
“I would imagine,” I surmised. “But I highly doubt Reid is the one that gets hurt out there. Why would he keep pushing Beau to ride so hard? He knows that he’s the better rider.”
“Men.” She shrugged.
“Well, they’re both idiots.” We laughed, because that’s really all we could do.
Brett had finally had enough and waved a flag to indicate the final lap.
Thank God.
I waited for Reid to rocket off and leave Beau behind, but the strangest thing happened. Reid relaxed—not enough that anyone but me would notice, but he wasn’t full out riding. I knew the move. It was the same one he used when he was racing against his brother back in the day. He’d explained to me that sometimes Hoyt needed an ego boost. Sometimes he needed to let him win to keep him wanting to ride. I understood the move with Hoyt, but why in the world would he think Beau needed an ego boost?
Beau zipped past him and crossed the finish line. The wheelie he popped and rode across the straight away led me to believe that he actually believed he’d won that race fair and square.
Reid came to a stop and ripped off his helmet before tossing it to the dirt. He clenched his jaw and proceeded to put on a real good show. Everyone seemed to believe that he’d actually just lost to some amateur rider.
“Son of a bitch,” he yelled when he shut his bike off. He walked over toward us. Beau was pulling his bike to a stop. I looked at Georgia, wondering if she’d witnessed what I had, but she was oblivious.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” she said. “He actually beat him.”
“Looks that way,” I replied. By the time Beau was off his bike, Reid was standing in front of us all.
“Good race, Gregurich,” Reid said reaching his hand out to shake Beau’s. “Off season has made me a little rusty.” He laughed and waited for Beau to shake his hand.
“Yeah, well maybe you’re not as good as you think you are,” Beau snapped. “You can’t win all the time.”
“Beau,” I said, dropping my feet to the ground and standing up. “He said good job, the least you could do is say the same.”
“I can’t do that,” Beau said, walking over to wrap his arm around my waist. “I can’t because I beat him.” It had been years since I’d heard Beau Gregurich talk so venomously. He definitely hadn’t forgotten how to do it.
“You don’t have to be a dick,” I replied.
“It’s fine, Nora,” Reid interjected. “He beat me. Fair and square.”
Did he?