Page 81 of Don't Brake My Heart
‘Twenty-eight seconds, C. Bring her home. Nice and steady.’
Fuck. Gritting my teeth, I pushed harder. So much for a blank beginning, for writing my own future. I’d never be the cool leader Dad wanted. Frustration rising in my blood along with the lactate, I knew I was going too hard even without looking at my power monitor. Alan said something, but I tuned him out.
I hit the final descent hard, belatedly remembering the sharp turn just before the finish. I made it, but barely, unclipping one foot in a panic when the bike tipped. I got away with a quick tap on the asphalt to steady myself and then I was going again, but I’d hear about that stupidity from Dad later, I was certain.
Hurtling over the line, there were white sparks at the edge of my vision, my stomach heaved and I seemed to have forgotten where the brakes were, ploughing into an unfortunate group of photographers and nearly going over my own handlebars.
Then I was staring at the cobblestones in close-up, as strung out as ever. I didn’t even want to know what time I’d managed. I wanted to just ride off into the sunset – for once, not with Leesa, since I didn’t want to face her just now. I didn’t want to face anyone.
Especially not Dad, but of course it was Dad’s face that filled my vision first.
‘What was that, son?’
Even the gentle way he called me ‘son’ didn’t soften the hard lump in my chest. I allowed him to haul me into a sitting position and accepted the drink bottle he handed me, guzzling the fluid without questioning what it was.
‘The first half was bloody awful, but then someone lit a fire under you and you’re lucky you didn’t end up toast!’
‘Not toasted yet,’ I muttered.
‘You gave me a heart attack, boy! Keep it steady next time, ’kay? Your body’s there, but your head? That exploded today.’
I didn’t need him to tell me that. ‘Is Derek still on the podium?’
Dad shook his head.
‘Fuck!’ The word failed to make me feel better.
‘Jansen and Hellier both had a cracking day,’ Dad explained gently. ‘He’ll get fifth or sixth. A great result for the youngster.’
I nodded. It would have to be the day’s small consolation.
‘Don’t you want to know how you did?’
‘Not really,’ I mumbled in reply.
Dad looked at me doubtfully. ‘You finished 18 seconds down.’
That I’d made up 13 seconds after the final time check was a surprise that rippled under my skin, but it didn’t change the fact that I’d busted my way through the first stage with my balls instead of my head.
‘The times were close, so that unfortunately puts you in fifteenth, but the time itself you’ll get back. You can definitely get it back. We’ve got our strategy and the team around you. Tomorrow, the real fight starts.’
The fight to keep Colin Gallagher from screwing up his big chance.
One of the swannies helped Dad haul me to my feet. My blood was fizzing and I could already taste the adrenaline crash that awaited me. It was the same artificial cherry flavour as the PowerFuel recovery supplement the swannie pressed into my hand.
After glancing at the logo of the nutrition company, I looked up wildly, realising Leesa was probably somewhere nearby and for the first time hoping her eyesweren’ton me.
But it was even worse than that. When I finally found her standing with the support staff, she had her phone raised and appeared to be filming me. And I, Colin Valerio Gallagher, followed my stupid, first impulse and raised my middle finger.
Chapter 30
Leesa
I don’t know what I’d expected. Colin was never going to rush straight to my side after hurtling over the finish line. A sweaty, desperate post-race kiss probably wasn’t as romantic as Lori and Seb had made it look last year anyway.
Besides, I didn’t want him to kiss me in full view of a thousand spectators and at least 50 cameras. But a big part of me still wished he’d done it. So much for whatever I’d had going on with Colin Gallagher. It seemed he was back to ruining my work, if that extended middle finger was anything to go by.
Colin would make headlines today, although not for ideal reasons. He’d ridden a dumpster fire of a time trial. How often had the women’s trainer drilled into us that a time trial was about consistency and carefully managing our limits? Colin had been all over the place and then worked himself into the ground at the end, although I bet the fans would love him for it. The fact that he’d come off his bike in vaguely amusing circumstances after the finish only added to the viral potential of his performance.
