“Is everything okay?”
He nods. “That was Marcus.”
I haven’t heard the name in years but I certainly remember his old boss.
“Well, is he okay?” I ask, wondering why on earth the head of a professional motocross team would be calling my husband.
He nods again. “He’s hosting a charity race in Anaheim. He asked if I’d be interested in dusting off my boots and racing again,” he says, changing his voice to a near perfect impression of Marcus’ California surfer guy accent.
“Oh, that’s cool,” I say before my brain really has a chance to process what this means. “He wants you to fly to California for one race?”
”It’s a three-day series. Lots of sponsors, and a lot of money to be won for charity. They’d pay all my expenses, though. He even said he has a bike I can use so I wouldn’t need to tune up or transport mine.”
“Which charity is it?” I ask.
“Breast Cancer, since it’s October and that’s Breast Cancer Awareness month.”
We’re both silent for a moment. This is a cause close to my heart because my mom is a breast cancer survivor. Every year, we participate in 5K runs for the cause, and wear pink shirts on Pink Out Day. It only makes sense that he should join an event supporting something so dear to me. But…
Jett quit racing professionally when our daughter was born. He said he was a family man now, and all the travel and public appearances that came with professional racing was just too much. He left it behind for us. And we haven’t really talked about it since then.
But a spark died in him when he quit racing. I don’t think I ever noticed it, not until this very second when his eyes light up the same way they used to back when I first met him. He loves racing with all of his heart. He was born to do it. That spark, the one I hadn’t even missed while it was gone, just very clearly came back.
Chapter 2
Jett
The house smells like cinnamon and warm vanilla when we walk inside after dinner and our afternoon stroll around town. This is one of those traditions I already know I’ll miss when Harper becomes a teenager and doesn’t want to hang out with us anymore. I remind myself to stop worrying about the future and just stay in the moment to enjoy every day of raising my kid with the woman I love…in our house that always smells amazing. I don’t know how Keanna does it because I never see her spraying fragrance around or anything—the house just always smells clean and homey and it changes with the seasons. Women are magic. Well, my woman is magic. I don’t really care much about the others.
“It’s time for someone to get a bath!” Keanna says, hanging her purse on the hook by the back door.
“Aww man, do I have to?” I say with an exaggerated whine. Both of my girls cast me a silly look.
“I’m not talking about you,” Keanna says, playfully rolling her eyes.
“She means me!” Harper says, pointing to her chest.
“Phew,” I say, running a hand across my forehead. “I guess that means I don’t have to brush my teeth, either!”
“Eww!” they both say together.
“Want me to do the bedtime routine?” I ask after closing the garage door and locking up for the night.
“I’ve got it,” Keanna says. “But the dishwasher could be unloaded.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She smiles and heads off to start Harper’s bedtime routine. I unload the dishes in quiet and try not to let the awkward vibe take over my thoughts, but I’m unsuccessful. I can’t stop thinking about the phone call from Marcus earlier.
I haven’t talked to him in a couple of years, and the occasional social media comment we leave each other is a lot different than the phone call we just had. When I retired from professional motocross racing, it wasn’t because I was too old or too injured or not good enough to stay pro. I retired in my prime because I’d just had a daughter and wanted to spend all my time as a full time dad and husband, not some big shot flying around the country every season and leaving them at home. Some racers bring their families with them, but living in a tour bus and spending early mornings in airports isn’t exactly a stable environment to raise a child. Kids need routines and good sleep and a safe place to call home.
My whole life is still based around motocross, so it’s not like I gave it up entirely. I still work at my family’s track in town and I still ride my dirt bike around for fun and to stay in shape. Motocross will always be my life, even when I am too old to hop on a dirt bike. I plan to keep our family business running long enough to have Harper take it over when she’s grown up. But professional racing…
It hits differently. It’s as close to flying as I’ll ever get. The speed, the adrenaline, the feeling of pushing your body to the max, knowing you’re competing against other professionals who want to win just as badly as you do—it’s exhilarating.
The thought of feeling it again—for three whole days—man, I can’t stop thinking about it.
I didn’t give Marcus an answer on the phone. I thanked him for asking me and said I’d check with the wife and get back to him tomorrow. He told me to take my time, and said it was fine either way. Unlike high stakes professional races, this is a charity event so it’s not the worst thing in the world if I don’t attend. But I really, really want to. I want it more than I thought I would.
