Page 38 of Don't Brake My Heart
While I didn’t want her to feel like she was under pressure,Iwas under pressure. If she really was content to never ride a bike again… It felt too much like leaving me behind. She kept insisting she’d quit. While I understood why she’d retired from pro, I didn’t like how she threw that word around.
I’d got so used to her in those flowery dresses, I wasn’t sure what to expect this morning. Instead of the men’s team kit, splashed with sponsor logos – which, to be honest, probably would have fitted her fine – I’d ordered her a jersey and bib shorts from a women’s brand and got one of the swannies to collect it in town yesterday. I knew her shoe size from several years ago when I’d swapped out her branded slides for velvet granny slippers while she was in the swimming pool.
But I wanted to see her in the stuff I’d picked out, feeling like fucking Prince Charming sending a ball gown to Cinderella. I fiddled with her bike while I was waiting – one of the spares in Nellie’s frame size. The crank shafts were probably too long, but I wouldn’t be timing her and hopefully she’d be comfortable.
The door of the hotel opened with a creak and I snapped my gaze up from where I was crouched by the rear wheel, a smile and a smart comment on my lips. But the smile died abruptly when I saw who was coming.
Getting slowly to my feet, I waited for him to say something first.
‘It’s rest day, Colin,’ he said instead of a greeting.
‘I’m aware of that, Dad.’
‘Goin’ out hard today will only set you back tomorrow.’
‘Also aware of that.’
He paused, studying me with a pained expression. ‘I know who you’re waiting for and I’m not sure this is a good idea.’
If he knew what ‘this’ was, then it was more than I did. ‘She’s doing her job. She’s supposed to get footage of me.’
‘But what areyoudoing?’
I glanced up at the sky, annoyed that Dad was always so closely on my arse that he could cut through the crap like this. ‘Recovery ride. Making sure my muscles don’t stiffen up.’
It was true. Even during the hell of the Tour, we couldn’t afford to stay entirely off the bike on rest days – not that there were many rest days during the Tour.
‘You don’t need company for that and she’s got plenty of action shots from the training rides over the past week. You should be focusing on your performance.’
Did he think there wasanythingelse in my life? ‘Are you worried we’re sneaking off to fuck on a picnic blanket?’ I used the word to get a rise out of him and it worked.
He turned on me, his jaw clenched and his throat working. ‘You always think your mum understands you better than I do, but I know what you’re doing.’ He was going to some effort to keep his voice gentle, but I felt his frustration anyway.
‘Enlighten me.’
‘You’re trying to deal with the pressure. Last year, you could still joke your way through the Tour, knowing it was your first and no one expected much, but this year is different. You’re trying to reduce everyone’s expectations of you.’
‘Even the psychologist didn’t come up with that shit, Dad. Leesa has nothing to do with my performance.’
‘At the very least, she’s a distraction. At worst… you’re breaking professional boundaries with someone who’s not from the team. To be honest, I don’t want to know which it is.’
I gritted my teeth so I didn’t let out any of the words that were brewing in me. ‘She’s an old friend, not a distraction and certainly not anything else.’ Lucky I’d always been a good liar.
‘Friend,’ Dad snorted, making heat prickle up my neck. ‘You always had—’
‘You have nothing to worry about.’ I cut him off. Steam would start coming out of my ears soon and he’d be able to see how much his words were winding me up instead of achieving the opposite. ‘None of this is news, Dad. But I will say that Mum’s pep talks are less cringe.’
‘What does your mother have to do with this?’
‘Istill talk to her every week, even if you don’t.’ Hinting at their separation was sure to shut him up.
But he came back with a jab I hadn’t expected. ‘You don’t talk to her about Lees—?’
‘Hi! Sorry I’m late!’
I looked over at her before I’d thought through the wisdom of that action and the punch to my gut was enough to make me wonder if I’d ever breathe again. She was here for me, wearing the clothes I’d picked out for her – and looking beautiful enough to tear my heart out of my ribcage while she did so.
She’d tucked her hair through the space at the back of her helmet and bound it into a fat, messy plait. As I watched, she slipped the sports sunglasses upside down into the grooves with a practised move. I needed her to see what I saw in this moment: a talented former pro; a smart, strong – spirited – woman.
