Page 77 of Roan

“He’s definitely part of it. But I don’t want to ruin this before we have a chance.”

His brow pulls together. “What makes you think you’ll ruin it?”

I swallow, fearing the words I’m about to say, but he needs to know. “I love you, but I don’t know me. I don’t know that I ever have. I came into this world a mistake. An act of violence and forced into my mom’s life. And then I met you, and I’m constantly moving from one thing to another and never truly finding myself.” I take his hands from my face and hold them in front of me. “I’m not sure if I’m making any sense, but for so long I was the little girl in love with the legend. And then the girl in college, and the girl getting married. I’ve never been just me.”

Running his hand over his face, he shifts his weight from one foot to the other and sighs. “Can I at least date you?”

I smile and kiss him once more, because I can. “You can do more than date me. I just don’t think moving in together is right for us just yet.”

Roan is all about big risks and reacting before he has time to think things through. This time, we need to take our time if we want to make this last. Nodding, he winks and slaps me on the ass. “I’m gonna make a pretty good boyfriend and you know it.”

I roll my eyes. “We’ll see about that.”

My body aches, every muscle protesting and cramping. Might have something to do with the fact that I’m dehydrated, and nearing thirty. I refuse to acknowledge any of that, but it might also have something to do with the fact that I’ve gotten very little sleep this last week since Ophelia has been in my bed every night. I’m not complaining, but for a guy who needs to be in optimum shape every day to compete, having a girlfriend in my bed is taking a toll on me.

When you think about a freestyle motocross racer, what comes to mind for you?

Crazy?

You’re not wrong. We’re deranged motherfuckers obsessed with adrenaline and teetering on the edge of out of control and death.

Now, when you think about an EnduroCross racer, what comes to mind?

Probably something along the lines of, what the fuck is that?

The best way I can describe it is to picture a triathlon style motocross race. With a race format of motocross, being that it’s done in sessions, the best advancing to the main event, it’s essentially indoor off-road racing with about twenty of the world’s best off-road riders negotiating a dirt track with boulders, riprap, logs, tractor tires, water crossings and sharp turns. With slower speeds and technical riding, it tests not only your endurance but your ability to stay up on the bike. It’s one of the most unpredictable motorsports in history, and excellent preparation for Erzberg and the Roof of Africa, which I fully intended to compete in again this year.

With summer nearing an end, the Hare Scrambles are run primarily in the fall and winter, and I still have the X Games coming up in less than two weeks. I wasn’t sure I wanted to compete again but when Honda and Red Bull came to us and wanted all three Sawyer brothers riding for them in the X Games, I agreed.

Tiller isn’t happy about it, having nearly ripped his cock and balls off, but he agrees with the pressure of Shade who can manipulate anyone into doing what he wants. That’s probably the one thing Tiller and I have in common. We cave when Shade asks us to do something.

Seemingly frustrated with the way the freestyle scene played out, Tiller once refused to compete for an entire season just to piss sponsors off when he was fourteen. Thankfully he’s no longer trying to entice a war with the people who pay us to do this shit, but he still hasn’t conformed to the idea of being told what to do and when to do it.

Look at him lying in the dirt while Shade and I build a new jump. “This is bullshit!” he screams at us, holding his side. He completely missed the landing on his last superman flip and landed in the dirt.

While we water down the track and Tiller, I peek at my phone to see if O texted me back yet. Nothing. I texted her a picture of my fucking dick and nothing. What kind of shit is that?

Shade sighs and motions to the tractor. “Let’s get this built before I have to meet with the wedding planner.”

“Sounds horrible,” I tease, smiling and lifting myself up into the tractor. Sweat drips from every part of my body, my muscles protesting every movement I make today. I’m in the best shape of my life these days, other than the pneumonia, but I’m mentally exhausted from the last few months. I’m sure you can guess why.

Yeah, I have the girl, but keeping her is proving to be harder than I thought. Obviously, she still hasn’t texted me back. Ophelia’s young. Still. She’s only twenty-three and still naïve to the world around her. Not only was she fired from her job after she didn’t marry Aladdin, which is completely fucking illegal, but she’s also back living with her parents and trying to find her own identity in the world. That’s not easy to do. I went through all those same things when I left for Austria. It’s why I stayed there longer than I needed to and lived out of a van for nearly a year.

I knew if I wanted to have a lasting relationship with Ophelia, I had to let her find herself before I tied myself to her in every way possible. I’m going to marry her and she’s going to have my babies. I’m sure of that, but I guess I have to be patient.

After hauling two more loads of dirt to the track, I hop off the tractor and find Shade staring at his phone. “I’m curious,” I begin, motioning for Shade to grab a shovel and help me pack in the jump. “Are you all in?”

Tucking his phone away, he reaches for the shovel and then stares at me, sweeping his hand over his forehead. “With the jump? Yeah, I mean, I can land.”

“Not the jump.” I jam the shovel into the dirt, lifting up a mound and tossing it on the face of the jump. “Marriage.”

“Oh,” he sighs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I think.”

I laugh and lean my weight “You’re nervous?”

“Fuck yeah I am.”

“About?”

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