Page 91 of Head Over Wheels

‘I know you are, but that’s not what I asked.’

I tried not to be touched by her concern – and failed. ‘Seriously, it’s fine.’

My phone beeped that night as I turned out the light and I froze, my heart racing. Part of me had been waiting to hear from Seb, remembering those months after December, when he’d obviously wanted to text me and I’d been stupid enough to forbid it.

But the message was from my dad:Alf says you’re in top form. Proud of ya, my Molly.

I felt nothing but disappointment. Was that my future? Winning some races and losing some races? I’d never allowed myself to look beyond that, too scared of failing – not even sure who I was without racing.

Not sure what else to reply, I tapped out:Tell Colin he’s doing great.Watching the highlights each day had been torture, catching glimpses of Seb’s sharp jaw, his firm mouth, the tattoos on his ripped legs, and never his whole face.

He’d left a giant hole in my life.

I stifled a sigh. Even the day’s climbs hadn’t been enough to silence the questions running sprints through my brain. Resting had been the gruelling part, trying to concentrate on a film and then force down food – no offence to our artistic and very sensitive chef. I was the problem. Everything I ate tasted like the bones of long-dead saints.

My sigh was echoed from a metre away on the other bed. ‘If you’re awake anyway, do you want to just get it off your chest?’

‘Sorry if I’m stopping you from getting your beauty sleep.’

‘I’ve got used to you moving around in the night,’ Leesa replied. Hauling herself into a sitting position, she switched on the lamp and reached for her phone. ‘Doortje thought we might need to perform an intervention.’

‘You and Doortje were talking about me?’

‘Keep your hair on,’ Leesa said with a roll of her eyes. ‘We weren’t planning your downfall. I know you think we allresent you for being Tony’s daughter, but not everything is about you.’ Her brow pinched, as though she hadn’t quite intended to say that. Even with a pinched brow, Leesa Kubicka was delicate and pretty. If I hadn’t seen over and over that she was a scrappy fighter on the bike – and one of the few members of the team who told my brother off for his pranks – I would have badly misjudged her.

‘I know not everything is about me. I promise I’ll have my head in the game for the start of the Tour.’

She gave me a withering look I was sure I’d seen her bestow on Colin numerous times. ‘That’s not what I mean. We’re all behind you 100 per cent. I just haven’t told you, yet, that I’m retiring at the end of the season, so you don’t have to worry about competition.’

Retiring…The word alone was enough for hundreds of images to burst in my brain: cheese, a fucking B&B, the yawning abyss of nothingness. ‘Why?’ I blurted out. ‘You’re not even thirty.’

‘I’m finally graduating in December. Apparently, it’s time to get a real job.’

Her answer reminded me that I was paid an unusually substantial salary for a woman in cycling, even though mine still wasn’t much to write home about. Unless we brought in lots of prize money, Leesa’s salary would be a lot less than she could make elsewhere.

I studied her, the years we’d trained and competed together suddenly feeling short. I hadn’t even taken the time to work out if we could be friends.

‘Are you looking forward to it?’

Before she could answer, Doortje flung the door open. ‘You summoned me?’ She sat heavily on my bed, bouncing as she did so.

‘The DS is going to get us into trouble if he knows we’re having an intervention instead of resting,’ I grumbled.

‘It’s for the greater good,’ Doortje said far too brightly. ‘So, tell us what went wrong with Seb. Did he break your heart or are you just restless now you’ve lost your favourite hobby?’

‘What hobby?’

‘Seb,’ Leesa said with a chuckle. ‘You seemed to enjoy doing him, if the pictures were anything to go by.’ She tapped on her phone screen. ‘This one was cute.’

To my horror, she flipped the device around to show me the smiling selfie I’d taken that day at his old school. Since I was sticking pins in myself, I fumbled for my own phone and scrolled to the next picture I’d taken that day. My stomach clenched, soaking in the lines of his throat, the way his lips were puckered against my cheek. The soft smile on my face. This wasn’t helping.

‘I was talking abouttextingSeb, mainly,’ Doortje continued, oblivious to my threatening tears. ‘Although maybe you had a more energetic hobby you liked to do with him. Ohhh, dear, sweetie,’ she said suddenly when she caught sight of the photo on my screen. ‘He broke your heart.’

She exchanged a look with Leesa while I sniffed back stupid tears. ‘He wasn’t a hobby,’ I insisted. ‘He was… a good friend.’

‘And you realised too late that you shouldn’t fuck a friend?’ Leesa finished with a wince.

‘Yeah, maybe we shouldn’t have… without talking about…’ We shouldn’t have slept together while I was trying to convince myself that I could shut down my pesky feelings, that no one could mess with ‘Top Gun’ Gallagher.

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