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“Okay, then.” Darius flashed his warm grin at her, and she felt herself relaxing. Maybe she’d just imagined his absentmindedness. And even if she hadn’t, it likely had nothing to do with her.
“Then let’s go!” He pointed forward in a dramatic fashion, and they headed down a narrow trail, about three feet wide.
Addisyn felt the increased resistance immediately in her legs. The trail was solid pea gravel, not paved. “Are all the trails gravel?” she asked.
“No, there’s also rock, dirt, and roots.” Darius’s voice held a teasing lilt. “What, you’re already tired?”
“Not on your life!” Addisyn was enjoying this way too much. She watched Darius’s strong profile ahead of her, admired the way he masterfully guided the handlebars over obstacles.
A trail sign flashed by. “‘Peaches en Regalia’? What kind of name is that?”
Darius laughed. “Ever heard of Frank Zappa?”
The shadows of the pine trees dappled the trail in sunlight. “No...”
“He was a rock singer. This whole network is called the Zappa Trails in his honor. Each trail is named for one of his songs.”
“Cool.” It was the kind of hipster creativity Addisyn had come to expect from the restless young town. “Are you a fan?”
“Not really. I’m more of a Coldplay kind of guy. U2. And a little bit of eighties hits.” Darius paused at an intersection. “Here we go. This is the Dinah Moe Humm trail.” They proceeded straight, without turning. “Although my dad used to play Frank Zappa before workouts.”
“Really?”
“Oh yeah. My dad was a power song fanatic. Frank Zappa, Skillet, Eric Clapton, AC/DC. Heard it all.”
Addisyn squinted at the incredibly blue sky. “Guess your dad liked rock.”
“Yeah, he thought it inspired his athletes, or something. You know, fast beat, energy, all that.” Darius brought his bike to a halt with a swoosh of gravel and waited for Addisyn to catch up. “But I disagree. Rock is a little too—” he gazed at the trail, searching for the words—“too rough for me.”
“I understand.” Actually Addisyn couldn’t imagine Darius jamming to screaming guitars and staccato drum riffs. He seemed far too gentle to enjoy that. “So your dad liked rock, but you don’t.”
“One of many differences between us.” Darius fumbled in a belt bag around his waist and drew out a pair of sunglasses. Once they were in place, the blue and orange mirror lenses prevented Addisyn from seeing his eyes. “It’s not always like father, like son.”
“I hear you there.” Addisyn clamped her lips shut to avoid blabbing details about her childhood. Really, why spill her guts to a guy like Darius? A gold-medal Olympian, no less.
“My dad and I were close, though.” Darius pushed off again, and Addisyn followed him. The flickering shadows of the pine trees dappled them in scintillating sunlight, like the sparkles from a disco ball. “I wish—” his voice trailed off, and he was quiet for a moment. “I wish I could have gotten one last medal. For my parents.”
Once again, Addisyn was struck with the irony. Darius had climbed the mountain, the mountain she’d obsessed over for years. Yet if his reports could be believed, the summit wasn’t as she had always fantasized. Here he was, a gold medalist, and yet he wasn’t happy.
She wanted to make him feel better, scrape the sadness from his tone. “But you got bronze, you said.” Immediately she felt dumb for the comment. To a guy as competitive as Darius, bronze wasn’t good enough. She understood that mentality.
“Yeah.” Darius’s voice held no hint of acceptance. “But that was in the thousand meters. My signature event was the five hundred meters.” He frowned, turning his head away. “I was pretty nervous that day. If I hadn’t been—” He broke off sharply. “Well, no use crying over spilled milk. What’s done is done.”
His tone sounded almost angry, bitter maybe. Addisyn cringed. She could identify with his pain, but she couldn’t let him know it. “I guess we all have goals we don’t reach,” she said tentatively, carefully phrasing her answer.
“Guess so.” But the heaviness didn’t leave Darius, and they biked for another few minutes in silence.
“How bout you, Addisyn?” he asked suddenly. “What are your dreams?” His teeth flashed in a grin—obviously he was trying to kick his bad mood. “Trying to make your family proud?”
“Hardly. My family isn’t on my radar screen anymore.”
Immediately Addisyn wished she could rewind the moment and retract her blunt, although truthful, statement. Why had she said such a thing? Yet Darius didn’t appear rebuffed. Instead, he just shrugged sympathetically. “I’m sorry. I guess no family’s perfect.”
“Mine wasn’t even close.” An acrid wave rose in Addisyn’s throat as she recalled the traumatic events of her past. “My father was—” She hesitated. All her life she’d used delicate terms. Terms liketroubledorangryor evendysfunctional. But suddenly she had a feverish desire to tell it like it was. “My father was a monster.”
Darius was silent, but he turned his upper body toward her as they rode, apparently waiting for her to go on.
“He was very abusive. He hated us all, I think. My mom and me and—” Another pause. Another demon chasing her. “And my sister.”
