Page 100 of Head Over Wheels

‘I’m… glad you think so.’ I might not have agreed to the extra season she’d wanted me to fight, but I’d found some self-respect. I was retiring to make us happy and it was the best decision of my life – if I could get her to understand. ‘Thanks for making this season the best of my career – you andLori and Colin.’

He smacked me over the shoulder, sending more muscle pain shuddering through me.

‘I could almost say “welcome to the family”, mate. If you’re crazy enough to join us.’

I was crazy – crazy about Lori. And I was looking forward to the future in a way I never had before, once I’d admitted everything I wanted and let her respond.

‘Eh, Tony? One more thing. I’m going to need a lot of cardboard.’

Lori

The crowds on the Alpe d’Huez were legendary and that day they were there for us – for the women’s peloton. Our prize money was a fraction of the men’s, but the racing was top class.

Doortje had fallen back earlier in the race after protecting me from the headwind, but Leesa stayed with me until she finally cracked before the final 20 km. I’d give her a hardcore hug when we finished, even if she had a genius IQ and a whole stack of gilt-edged qualifications and was moving on at the end of the season.

Laura Colombini had tried to fight alongside us in the breakaway, but she eventually dropped back as well. I probably didn’t have quite enough gas to get me over the line in first place, but I might hang onto the yellow jersey.

I’d seen at least ten #FolkyDunes signs and tried to wave to each fan holding one. After my staged kisses after his races – which had been excuses to do what I wanted anyway – it was the true story of us meeting online that had eventually taken off among the fans. I’d found Seb’s post last night and had another Folklore bawlfest. He might have even convinced me to watch moreStar Wars.

Damn, how many days did I have to hold out until I could go and get him?

I shook my thoughts back into the present, thankful the feared distraction had come at a moment that hadn’t required all of my concentration.

After the final switchback, the pace stepped up as we pushed for the finish in the little sporting town of Alpe d’Huez. The cheering spectators, the helicopters overhead, were all a blur as I struggled to stay on the wheel of the last rider in the breakaway, but my time should be good enough to keep the yellow jersey at least one more day

The finish line loomed ahead and I sailed across, waving to the crowd and tugging at my jersey with pride.

Glancing forward, I caught sight of my dad, rushing up to enfold me in his arms, and then I wondered if today would be another of those blubbery days and whether my new nickname should be Lori ‘Waterworks’ Gallagher.

‘Did I do it? Can I keep the jersey tomorrow?’

‘You did, Moll – third place in style, and plenty left in ya, by the looks.’

I nodded, letting my bike clatter to the ground so I could squeeze him back. ‘I’m feeling good again, Dad. Everything’s going to be okay.’

Giving me a sharp pat, he said, ‘I know. I’m so proud of you – but not only for this bee-autiful colour on your jersey.’ His grin was giddy and I couldn’t help but return it.

‘What do you mean?’

‘You mother and I… maybe we didn’t give you the best foundations for some parts of life. But it’s a… joy seeing you work things out for yourself. You’re strong and sharp and insightful and…’ He dropped his voice. ‘I hope one day your brother grows into half the woman you are.’

I wrapped my arms around his neck for another hug.‘Thanks, Dad. But I didn’t think you were coming until tomorrow? The call of the podium, huh?’

‘Ah,’ he said, throwing a glance over his shoulder. ‘It’s not that, sweetheart. Someone needed a lift and convinced me you’d be happy to see me, even though you’ve been keeping me at arm’s length these past few months – which is your right. I know it’s not always easy having your dad for a coach.’

‘Don’t worry, Dad. I’m not mad you’re here, but what are you talking about?’

At first I thought some zealous fan – or my idiot brother – had made a life-size cardboard cut-out of the figure I most wanted to see in the world and placed it with the support staff milling by the finish line to get a rise out of me. But the cardboard cut-out was holding a sign and since cardboard people didn’t hold cardboard signs and he was the figure I most wanted to see, I was probably hallucinating.

The fact that the sign said, ‘I Did Something Bad (Taylor’s version),’ and then I had the song in my head, confirmed it. Oh well, it was a lovely hallucination, even reminding me of the time I’d explained the whole saga about Taylor’s songs. I stood there with an idiotic smile, enjoying the way his hair fell over his forehead in a wiry wave, the sharp jut of his jaw, his eyes that made me think of honey and waffles and everything warm and delicious.

The cardboard cut-out blinked.

My smile faded, watching as his hand came up, flipping the sign so it read, ‘Back to December’. I took a haltingstep in his direction, my heart fluttering as he changed the sign again, and I waited to see what song title would appear next.

I could have guessed it: ‘We Were Happy’. I didn’t notice my feet moving, but he was getting closer, close enough that I could see the lingering sunburn on his cheeks, the dimple moving as he managed half a smile.

He flipped over two in quick succession: ‘The Way I Loved You’ and then ‘The Very First Night’.

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