Blindness(112)

“You found me,” I say, my words meaning so much more than they do at the surface. “You found me, and I found myself.”





THE END





Epilogue





Cody’s point of view:





“Cody, I’ve got this covered. Get your ass in the truck and over to the arena. You’re going to be late,” Gabe says, pushing me away from the ’72 Shelby we’ve been elbows deep in since Tuesday.

“Okay, I know, I know. You’ve got my cell?” I say, wiping the oil from my hands and digging in my pocket for the keys.

“Yes, I’ve got your cell. And yes…I’ll call you if anything goes wrong. Like, I suddenly forget how to turn on a f*cking car or change a set of brake pads,” Gabe ribs me.

He’s right—he’s been working on cars longer than I have. It’s just that I haven’t left the shop for an entire day since the moment we officially opened a year ago. I keep waiting for Charlie to yell at me about going to work all the time, but she never does. She just smiles—like a goddamned angel. It’s that smile that makes me come home every day at five, no matter what.

She even smiled when I told her what I was doing at the pits. And when I told her I had a sponsor, and I was going to compete again. The only time she didn’t smile was when she woke up last night from a nightmare. She wouldn’t say what it was, but I know she’s afraid to see me ride again. She never goes to practices, and I invite her all the time.

But she’s going to be there today.

I’ve been a f*cking head case over this. Everything’s been great at practice, but I can’t shake this feeling like something’s going to go wrong the moment I jump in competition. It would be the dumbest way to lose everything I’ve fought so hard for, but I can’t back away from it. It’s like a dare, staring me in the face, taunting me—maybe I’m an adrenaline junkie, I don’t know. But I just know that I need to show the world, maybe show myself, that I can do this still, and be the best, despite my f*cking leg.

Everything on me hurts like hell, but I push through it anyway. Even the drive to the arena is hard, but by the time I pull into my spot for loading, my pain is dulled. It’s all Charlie. She talks to Mac when things get tough, so I talk to her—even when she’s not around. She’s caught me before, and I think she knows what I’m doing, but I keep it my secret. Like I have two versions of her—the one I hold at night, and the one in my head that guides me—and they’re both f*cking perfect!

“Hey, loser. You’re late,” Jessie says, her legs kicking back and forth on the loading dock. I rush around to unhook the trailer gate and roll off my bike.

“I know. She here?” I say, a little winded already. I’m not ready for this, I’m in terrible shape. Fuck! What am I thinking?

“She’s here. She’s not totally sure she can watch you do this, but she’s here,” I hear Charlie’s voice behind me, and I’m rushed with instant calm.

She’s wearing one of my hoodies, and a pair of skinny jeans, her feet shoved into the same Uggs she wore on our very first date. I love those boots, and I love the woman in them. I let Jessie take over filing the entry papers and checking out my gages while I kiss Charlie until I can feel her lips curl into a smile against me. It’s like a challenge to me, every time I kiss her.

“Piece of cake,” I say, winking at her when I pull away. “Just stay by Jessie. She’ll hold your hand if you get nervous.”

“More like she’ll slap me,” Charlie says, rolling her eyes at Jessie.

“She’s right, I’ll slap her,” Jessie jokes, and then goes right back to my paperwork.

I pat Charlie on the ass as I pull on my helmet and flip it on my head to go inside for my round. She nods once and takes a deep breath before wishing me good luck. It’s a pretty big event for my first stint back on the tour. My name bought me some clout, and part of me wishes I was somewhere in some West Coast suburb with a few teenagers for my first big ride out.

MTV’s covering my ride, which is cool…I guess? All the attention has my palms sweating. I down at least three energy drinks while I sit in the dirt on my bike, just waiting. I have to pee. I can’t believe this, I’m minutes away from scaring the shit out of myself over some crazy dream, and I have to piss.

They’re calling my name. I have to go, and all I want to do is hop off this bike and run to the blue Port-o-potty 100 feet away. The whole thing has me chuckling, but there’s no use dwelling on it. I’ll have to hold it—I can piss in about 45 seconds.

I pound my fist with one of my old riding buddies and flip the front down on my helmet. I hate wearing these things; everything in here is so f*cking small. I swear I think I always hold my breath the entire time, all the way until I slide my helmet off again.

I cruise by the front row before I rev my engine enough to loop around and climb the hill. I know I’ll never spot Charlie here amid the hundreds of family members that sit in this section, so I look for Jessie’s purple hair. That lame-ass dye job has saved me more than once—if I could, I’d make her sit on my car so I could find it in a crowded parking lot.

I’m about to give up when I see the flash of purple, and I notice her hands waving for my attention. Charlie is clinging to her arm, her face buried in her shoulder, so I stop at the side for just a few seconds to pull her away and kiss her in front of the arena full of people.