Page 208 of Bend

It doesn’t.

By the next sector, I stop riding like something is about to go wrong and I start riding like me.

And somehow, that changes everything.

The road comes faster, but so does my confidence. I let the bike run where it wants to, stop overthinking every little movement underneath me and trust the setup I spent hours building. Houses and stone walls blur at the edge of my vision, the road rises and drops beneath me, and every exposed section gives me another reminder that the TT is completely fucking insane.

I love it anyway.

That realization almost pisses me off.

After what this place took from us, I want to hate every mile of it.

But I can’t.

Maybe that’s part of what makes all of this so hard.

Andre feeds me updates when he can, keeping the comms clean enough that I’m not trying to process six different conversations while flying down a public road at a speed no sensible person would ever consider reasonable.

“Talon’s through clean.”

Relief flashes through me, quick but sharp.

“Sayshen?”

“Through.”

I breathe a little easier.

“Reign and Revel are both good, Draygon’s moving well, and Thorne is through the previous sector.”

“Copy.”

“And you’re quick.”

I almost laugh.

“Not gonna lie, coach, you sounded surprised just sound. I am a Shaw after all.”

“I’m trying to keep your ego manageable.”

“Well, it’s a little to late for that.”

I hear what might be a breath of amusement before the line quiets again.

I don’t ask where I’m running.

That becomes important very quickly because I know myself well enough to know what will happen if Andre tells me I’m anywhere remotely competitive.

I’ll start chasing, and he specifically told me not to get clever.

Unfortunately, clever is one of my favorite bad ideas.

So I keep my mouth shut and ride.

The further I get, the better it feels.

My body stops fighting the bike and starts moving with it, every shift and braking point becoming instinctive enough that the terror loosens its grip.