Page 23 of Rogue Riders Duet

A beat of silence, then my father’s voice comes again, his tone just as clinical as the doctor’s, only colder, and even more detached. “And her prognosis?”

“She’ll recover, but it will take time. Months of rehabilitation, probably multiple surgeries.” A short pause follows, then, “She’ll never race professionally again.”

If I could breathe, that would’ve taken all my air.

Never race again.

Never.

No.

No, no, no.

This was supposed to be my year. I was supposed to win, supposed to take the title.

I was supposed to go elite.

It was mine.

And now, it’s gone?

Just like that?

I try to make a sound. A desperate, panicked sound, anything to tell them I’m here, I’m awake, I can hear this, and I refuse the words being spoken about me, but nothing comes out. The ventilator hisses, the machine beeps, and my father exhales.

“I see.” That’s it. Not a single question about me, about how I am, or if I’m awake or in pain. “I’ll make arrangements for her education.”

Arrangements. To him, I’m just a problem to fix. My life hasn’t just been shattered into pieces, and I’m not even right here.

Rage joins the party with panic and pain, right beneath the helplessness, the deep, crushing grief, and I’m screaming inside. Clawing at the edges of this body, this bed.

Dane rubs a hand over his face. “She hasn’t even fucking woken up, and you’re talking about school?”

“There’s no reason to delay this. She won’t be racing anymore, so it’s best to set her up for the future.”

I want to scream, to rip the tube from my throat and tell him to go to hell.

But I can’t.

I can’t fucking move. I can’t do anything.

Dane grips his phone tighter, knuckles going white. “Do you even care?” His voice is barely above a whisper, but it shakes. “Do you even care what this will mean to her?”

“I’ll leave you to it.” The doctor exits the room, and then there is only silence before Dad breaks it with a heavy sigh.

“Of course, I care. What do you want me to say, Dane? You knew exactly what this sport could do to people when you begged me to let her race with you. When you told me you’d look out for her.” I can’t even wrap my head around what he just said. Did he just put the blame on Dane? “Emotions won’t change reality. The sooner she understands that, the better.”

Dane’s head snaps up, anger flashing through his bloodshot eyes.

“Fuck you,” he grinds out. “Just… fuck you.”

The line goes dead, and Dane drops his phone onto his knee. Then my brother breaks, and sobs tear out of him, the force of them shaking his entire frame. Dane never cries, not even when I broke my arm when I was six and he was sixteen, and he had to carry me three miles home, but he’s crying now, because he fucking knows what I just lost.

I want to tell him it’s okay, that I’ll be fine.

But that would be a lie.

I don’t know how to exist without racing. Without purpose. Without wind in my face and fire in my chest and the finish line ahead of me.