Page 109 of Moto
“I’ve let a lot of people down in my life, Kayla. I’m determined not to let you be one of them. You’re the one thing I’m going to do right.”
She breathes heavily, wishing every word true.
“So if you do stop racing,” she tests the waters, “where do we go from there?”
Her question sparks some hope.
“One last race,” I disclose optimistically.
“The next one? Indianapolis?” she questions.
“No. Isle of Man.”
“What is that?” she inquires hesitantly.
“It’s the ultimate street race. It’s been on my bucket list for years. And if I have to stop, I want it to be my last.”
“Notif, Reese. Youhaveto stop. Or youwilllet me down. Because you’ll bedead.” Her statement is ferocious.
“I’m not going anywhere without a fight.” I step closer to her, eradicating the distance between us. I despise it, and I want it gone.
“I think that’s what scares me the most. Your willingness to put liens on your body it can’t withstand.”
“I’m going to fight to live, baby,” I assure her confidently. “No lien is too great. Change my lifestyle, change my fate.”
“It’s that simple, huh?”
“Why does it have to be hard?”
“Because people don’t change.”
“Yes, they do. I’m proof.”
“You haven’t changed anything,” she points out.
“I’ve changed everything,” I strongly oppose. “I’m married, and I have a baby on the way. I never wanted that. And now, all I can think about is a single-family home with one bed I wake up in every morning and go to sleep in every night. No more nomad life.”
“Reese, I want to believe you.” The doubt is evident. “But what happens when you start to miss it? Miss the glamor, and fast pace, and adrenaline rush? I know how much you love it. I’ve seen you thrive. I’m afraid you’re going to end up resenting us.”
“That’s preposterous, Kayla.” I secure her face with both hands. That beautiful face I want to see every day while we grow old. I want her to believe me beyond a shadow of a doubt. “I’ve had an amazing career. I have no regrets, but it has to end sometime. And take it from a man who has lived his entire life on the edge.Youare the ultimate adrenaline rush.”
She searches my face with tears in her eyes. I know she’s looking for the chink. The fissure of doubt in my features. But she won’t find it because it isn’t there. This is what I want. Her, our child, and a brand new start. I’m ready. So fucking ready. “We said I do, so let’s fucking do it.” I shake her enthusiastically.
Kayla breaks down, laughing through her uncertainty. It’s a consoling sound.
“Okay, Reese.” She gives in. “Let’s fucking do it.”
38
Kayla
My life has yet again taken another one hundred eighty-degree turn. In a matter of days, Reese resigned from professional racing, citing personal issues. Then turned around to find a private sponsor to fund his ride for the Isle of Man Tourist Trophy. Effortlessly, they stood up a mobile garage on the tiny island located on the other side of the Atlantic. What Reese neglected to tell me about the Isle of Man TT is that it’s the most dangerous street race on the planet.
For two weeks, the island shuts down its busiest streets so racers can careen through and around narrow, potholed roads, buildings, trees, and heaven help me, stone walls. This is not a Maryland street race. This is serious shit, and I’ve been nauseous from nerves since the moment we arrived.
The Isle of Man is beautiful. Located between England and Ireland, it has a little bit of everything: lush landscapes, a rugged coastline, medieval castles, and a mountainous center. It’s a portrait of the most beautiful gothic tale. And although I like visiting, I will be happy to go home. I’m looking forward to some normalcy. Buying a house like we planned and decorating a nursery. That’s my idea of adventure.
As soon as word got out Reese would be racing, the event boomed. At least, that’s what social media boasts. Since it’s Reese’s self-proclaimed final ride, fans have come out in droves. Everywhere you look, someone is dressed in a white shirt and hat supporting their beloved Phantom.
