Page 106 of Don't Brake My Heart
Smiling down at him, I nodded. ‘I know that now. But I want to see my idiot on the podium!’
Then Tony’s shrill voice added some of the only words capable of knocking some sense back into Colin: ‘In white! He did it! He made up two-and-a-half minutes with that mad effort. He’ll be on the podium inwhite!’
Chapter 40
Colin
For the first time in my life, I understood and appreciated that the final stage of the Tour wasn’t contested like the others. It had never made sense to me that the general classification riders would cruise into Paris together, so no time was made or lost. But today, I needed the gentle journey to come to terms with what I’d achieved – and the affirmation of the crowds on the Champs-Élysées to make it all real.
No more rolling my eyes at sports psychology; I’d proven it was possible. The Tour hadn’t played out the way Dad and Alan had planned, but that was part of the experience – the part I relished most. With 3,000 km in my muscles and victory in my blood, it was the freedom I’d fought for – to discover my own motivations and priorities – that had made the biggest difference.
I was rolling into Paris a different person, someone who didn’t have to play a part – except maybe for a joke.
Derek, Amir and Nellie were close by, Derek’s grin growing wild as he took in the throngs of fans lining the iconic avenue of limestone buildings, plane trees and a century of cycling glory. I would never deserve their support and sacrifices, but I was so glad to have them, to share this moment with them, after everything we’d been through together.
Pedalling with no hands, I raised my arms above my head to whip up the crowd, enjoying the privilege this jersey gave me to demand cheering and wolf whistles.
‘Gallagheeer!’
A fan held a sheet spray painted with my name and a stylised kangaroo and I sent him a thumbs up as I passed. My favourite was an enormous piece of cardboard with the block letters ‘Gallaghers’ and sketches of meandLori. I tossed the fan my bidon for that.
Approaching the finish line under the yellow arch, my lungs were tight but not with the usual strain I felt this close to the end of a race. My throat was clogged with two months – or 25 years – of emotions. In the team area would be my dadandmum, this time brought together by something I’d done, rather than torn apart. And Leesa would be there too, waiting for me. Forme.
She’d be wearing the beetle pendant I’d slipped into her hood yesterday, making her shriek when she found it – but then her eyes lit up at the gift. She was aware of my flaws and knew how to deal with them. When I’d sent her fake spam emails from the ‘Colin Gallagher Appreciation Club’, which thankfully didn’t exist, she’d signed me up for the real newsletter of the Saskatchewan Moustache and Beard Association. But somehow, she’d still agreed to come along on this wild ride with me and I would never take that for granted, would always be desperate to see her.
I was particularly desperate to see her today, for my biggest prank ever – and a long-overdue confession about what I’d done back in September last year. I’d presented her with a helmet this morning before we set off, with the promise that she’d get the rest of her gift after today’s stage. Maybe the suspense wasn’t all that kind, but I wanted her feeling the drama with me today and she’d proven she was a good sport. She had to be, considering everything I wanted for our future.
With a bruised ulna, scabs and scratches, legs like overcooked mutton and a pounding heart, I finished the Tour de France – and rolled into the rest of my life.
After we wiggled through the finish area to the team bus, the boys fell on me, oblivious to the fact that just about every place on my body hurt somehow. Nellie rubbed my hair into a mess. Amir squeezed until he reshaped my ribcage. Derek’s shrill cry in my ear as he slung an arm over me just about burst an eardrum. But I grabbed them back, laughed and crushed them in hugs.
‘You’re not gonna get all emotional on us, are ya?’ Derek asked, looking suddenly alarmed.
‘Save it for your old woman,’ Nellie advised with a grin.
‘Go right ahead and get emotional,’ Amir contradicted both of them. ‘I’ll tease you about it for the rest of your career.’
I gave him a slap on the back that was more a shove. ‘It’s a pleasure to share the prize money with you lot’ was what I said in the end. I could have said more – with a lot more feeling – but there was someone else I wanted to celebrate with and I’d just caught sight of her, hanging back behind my parents, who were barrelling this way.
‘Gimme a sec,’ I said, darting out of Dad’s path with the skill of a soccer player. Her eyes widened to see me heading for her, but she shouldn’t have been surprised. I obviously had some work still to do, proving my commitment – which shouldn’t be a problem, since I had the sign from September, ready to show her.
I scooped her up before she had a chance to say anything. Her arms clinging to my neck and her hitched giggle of happiness were the final pieces I’d needed for the enormity of the moment to settle in my chest. There were definitely cameras on us, but I didn’t mind, as long as it wasn’therinterrupting this moment with that PowerFuel phone. I didn’t mind if the world saw how far gone in love I was with this woman.
One kiss became three, growing softer, more intense with every second. She stayed with me, her mouth clinging just as much as her arms, and I knew holding the heavy glass trophy on the podium later wouldn’t feel as good as this.
‘Come on, son! There’ll be time for smooching later.’
I groaned when Dad’s words made Leesa pull back with a guilty – but very cute – blush. Dad probably wanted me to sign autographs, wave for the cameras, do the publicity work that kept the financial gears oiled.
But instead of pushing me towards the waiting media, he wrapped me in a fierce hug, holding on with both arms. ‘You raced a belter, son,’ he said. Was his voice shaking? ‘Taught your old dad a thing or two. I’m happy to see you succeed but, my God, I’m impressed by your fight, even if you don’t.’
I blinked at him, not quite sure what to do with this new phase of our relationship, but looking forward to finding out. Maybe one day he’d even come to terms with the fact that I was going to spend my off-seasons in the US as long as Leesa was there.
Mum kissed my cheek and threw her arms around me. ‘You’ll always have this day, Colin,’ she said softly into my ear. ‘It’s not your father’s or mine. It’s yours. You did it.’
‘You’ll be telling me I can win yellow, next,’ I said with a grin but shook my head to warn her, when she appeared about to say just that.
Her gaze darted to Leesa and back. ‘Looks serious,’ she commented.
