Breaking Down Page 4

  She huffs and gets up again. “You don’t have to be such an arse all the time, you know,” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

  “Why?” I say, anger rising. “It’s what you expect from me, isn’t it? It’s what everyone expects from me.”

  “I don’t expect it from you,” she says.

  I scoff. “Yeah, you do. You just don’t like being called on it. Don’t worry, it’s no biggie. I’m Jax Ryan, the cheeky one, the one no one takes seriously.” I didn’t mean to say all that stuff, it just came out. I look up to see a shocked expression on her face. It gives me a kind of perverse pleasure to know that I got to her, but I hate the fact I’m being so weak. “Sorry,” I say, “a bit of misplaced frustration there.” She sits down once more. “You won’t need a workout with all that getting up and sitting down again,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. She smiles, but I can tell she’s still thinking about my outburst. I kind of like that I was able to shock her, that maybe, just maybe I’m getting under her skin. I’m not going to lie, I want Bentley, badly. She acts all tough, but I think there’s more to her. This reaction she’s having to what I just said proves that. It gives me hope that I may just be able to break down those walls she’s hiding behind. It only seems fair, seeing as though she’s breaking down some of my own.

  “You want to talk about it?” she asks.

  “Talk about what?”

  “Whatever it is that’s got you so tied up.”

  “Why would you want to help me?” I ask. “You can’t stand me.”

  She blows out a breath. “One of my friends at work says I have a knack for attracting lost souls and trying to fix them.”

  “You think I’m lost?”

  “I think you need someone who doesn’t know you to talk to.”

  “How about we not talk and get to know each other in a much more intimate way?” I suggest. She glares at me. I’m taking that as a no. I try a different tack, anything to change the topic. “I thought you do know me. Remember yesterday when you were telling me all about my epic failure at the Extreme Games?”

  She winces when I mention our first interaction.

  “Okay, so I was a bit of a bitch yesterday.”

  “A bit?” I ask. “The bruise on my stomach says differently.”

  “You came up behind me in an empty car park while I was alone. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

  “I suppose I should be grateful you didn’t go for my dick then, huh?” I ask. “Although….” Her face flushes bright red, matching the tip of her hair.

  “Okay, so I was a mega bitch yesterday,” she concedes.

  “Nah, you were fine, I was being a dick,” I tell her.

  “So are you okay?”

  “Most of the time,” I say.

  “It’s been six weeks since your accident?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How many concussions have you had?”

  “This is my fourth,” I say. “Yeah, I know it’s a lot.”

  “Have you thought about—”

  “About quitting?” I ask, cutting her off.

  “Well, yeah.”

  I shake my head. “This is who I am and I fucking love it. Plus, I don’t want to go out this way. When I do eventually decide to hang up my helmet, it’ll be because I’ve done all I think I can. I know I haven’t reached that point yet.” I don’t know why I’m telling Bentley all of this. It’s quite clear she doesn’t like me, but it feels good to get it all out. It may come back to bite me in the arse, but hey, since when is that something new?

  We’re silent for a long time after that, both of us lost in our own worlds, I suppose. “Anyway,” I say, just as she says, “So I was thinking—” We both stop and laugh.

  “Go on,” I tell her.

  “So I was thinking,” she says as she fiddles with a loose thread on her gym shorts.

  “Yes?” I prompt.

  “Maybe we could train together. You know, work on getting your balance back.”

  “Why?” I ask. “Why are you offering to help me?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know. I saw you sitting here, looking all pathetic, and it got to me.”

  “Geez, darlin’, don’t spare my feelings or anything,” I say.

  She ignores that and glares. “So what do you think?”

  “Is there a possibility of us hooking up afterwards?” I ask, wiggling my eyebrows.

  “Not a chance,” she says, getting up again. “But the offer still stands.”

  I pretend to think it over. “And you’re certain there’s no chance of us hooking up?” She crosses her arms and glares at me. In reply, I laugh. “Fine, but just so you know, I’m not giving up on getting in those tight-arse shorts of yours.”

  “You’re a pig, Jax Ryan.”

  “You love it,” I tell her as she walks away. It’s probably best we leave it as friends/training partners. Women have a nasty habit of leaving me, and I don’t know if I could handle another one being added to that list.

  Chapter 8

  Bentley

  When I saw Jax sitting on that bench, he looked so lost and broken. It’s something that calls to me, a feeling I can relate to. The girls at work are always saying I’m a harbourer of lost souls, and I guess Jax is just another one I’m bringing in. I’d like to think that’s why I’m so good at my job, the amount of empathy I have for the sick and injured. Plus, there’s no doubting Jax would fit right in around here.

  Is that what this is? My professional life crossing over into my personal one? It has to be, there’s no other explanation as to why I offered to help him. It’s not like I like the guy. Although I do admit I was taken aback by his outburst about what people expect from him. Maybe that contributed to the offer I made him too. He’s obviously struggling with a few things, and I want to help him through that. I know I can. But I will under no circumstances allow him into my “tight-arse” shorts. Nope, no way, not happening. He is highly entertaining so it might be worth keeping him around for that.

  I finish my workout and head to work. There’s a huge smile on my face and I’m whistling as I walk through the doors to the vet clinic where I’m a nurse.

  “Uh-oh,” Lisa, our resident vet and mother hen, says when she sees me.

  “Uh-oh what?” I ask, and start looking around for whatever disaster she’s spotted.

  “You’ve got that look,” she says.

  “What look?” I cross my arms defensively.

  “That ‘I’ve got a new pet project’ look.”

  “No I don’t,” I say, and hurry towards the back of the building where our staff room and lockers are.

  “Oh yes, you do,” she insists, following me.

  I put my bag away and pull out my scrub top before I turn to face her. “No, I don’t. There’s no look, no new ‘project,’” I say, making air quotes.

  “Uh-huh,” she says, crossing her arms and leaning against the doorframe. “What is it this time? A refugee family? A crowd-funding account so you can sponsor a donkey in the Himalayas? Oh, are you finally taking that trip to China to volunteer to work with pandas?”

  “No, it’s none of that.” I pull my scrub top over my sports bra.

  “Aha!” Lisa says triumphantly.

  “Aha what?” I ask.

  “It’s none of that, meaning there is something, just not what I listed.”

  “Fuck.” I’ve been had.

  “Come on, lady, spill the beans. Tell Dr Lisa all about your latest project.” She takes a seat across from me at the mismatched and beaten up table-and-chair set.

  I sigh and flop down across from her. “It’s nothing really,” I say as I trace a crack in the tabletop with my finger.

  “Oh, this one’s going to be a good one,” she says, rubbing her hands with glee.

  “What the fuck?” I ask. “How on earth do you know that?”

  “Because, my sweet Bentley, when it comes to your projects you’re usually busting at the seams to tell anyone and everyone what’
s going on to get them involved. The fact that you’re downplaying this and wanting to keep it to yourself must mean it’s important to you.”

  “No,” I say, shaking my head, “it’s not that.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “His—” I start, and Lisa squeals.

  “His? As in a real life human male?” she asks excitedly.

  I sigh again. “Yes, he as in a real life human male.”

  “Bentley,” she says, her face soft with affection.

  “Oh no, there will be none of that,” I say, gesturing to her face.

  “None of what?”

  “None of whatever it is you’re thinking.”

  She crosses her arms again and arches an eyebrow. “And tell me, dear, just what am I thinking?”

  “I can see it. You’re picturing me and him living happily ever after, and I’m telling you right now you can stop it. Nothing of that nature will ever happen, and certainly not with Jax Ryan,” I say with a shudder.

  “So let me ask this,” she says, “if this Jax,” she emphasises his name, “is so repulsive, why is he your new project? Furthermore, why are you so dead set on keeping this one to yourself?”

  I stop and think before I answer. “I think it’s different because I see so much of myself in him. He’s a freestyle BMX rider, and six weeks ago had a massive crash during a competition. He’s healing, but I don’t think it’s going well. I mean, this guy was hands down the best rider going round, but now he can’t even turn his head quickly without losing his balance. Something he loves hurt him.” I stop and shrug. “I don’t know, something about that calls to me.”

  Lisa grabs my hand and squeezes it tight. “Are you sure you can handle this?” she asks gently.

  I nod. “I’m totally fine, just helping another lost soul.”

  “Hmm,” she says and I can tell she doesn’t believe me.

  “Seriously, Lis, I’m good.” After everything happened with Ethan, or Satan as we refer to him in these parts, I went to stay with Lisa. She’s seen me at my lowest and knows how I get when I involve myself in a new project.

  “You know I’m here for you if you need me, for anything at all,” she says, a wary look in her eyes.

  I squeeze her hand back. “I do, and I love and appreciate that more than you know, but you don’t need to worry. Jax Ryan is the last person I’d ever involve myself with in that way. I’ll help him get his balance back, and that’s it.”

  Chapter 9

  Jax

  Bentley and I have been working out now for three weeks. It’s been good. It’s also been hell not to try and get in her pants, but it’s better this way. There’s also a novelty factor in just being friends with a chick. It’s amazing the things you can talk about when you take sex off the table. Maybe it’s Bentley, or maybe all girls are like this, but she’s really cool to talk to. She knows all kinds of things. It’s almost like she’s a dude, but with boobs. That’s not to say that when she bends over and I get a shot of that juicy, round arse of hers I don’t have to bite back a groan. Or when her boobs accidentally brush my arm I don’t have to close my eyes and will my dick not to jump to life in my shorts. If I didn’t know she was trying to help me, I’d think she was trying to kill me.

  “So tell me about Bishop Royal,” she says as we’re working out one day.

  “He’s an arse,” I say.

  “And?”

  “And that’s it.”

  “I take it you guys don’t get along.” She stretches over one of those giant exercise balls.

  “What gave it away?” I ask as I sit at one of the leg strengthening machines. Don’t worry, I’m only doing light weights. I’d rather be doing Bentley, but you know, baby steps.

  “Oh, not much. Just the look of total hate coming from your eyes right now.”

  I let the weights I’m supposed to be lifting slam down. “The guy’s a dick, all right? He thinks he’s god’s gift to BMX and he hates when I prove he’s not.”

  “Sounds like someone else I know,” she says, giving me a sly look.

  “Hey, I have no problem admitting when I’ve been bettered; it happens. BMX is constantly evolving and when someone beats me with a new trick or a better version of the one I’m pulling, then I’m man enough to admit I’ve been beaten. The difference between me and Bishop fucking Royal is that I go back home and work on perfecting my runs and try to come up with even gnarlier tricks. He doesn’t. He sits at home on his fat arse, enjoying the praise he gets from the people he pays to be around him, and waits for the rest of us do the hard yards with our new tricks.”

  “So you’re saying he copies you?” she asks.

  “To a certain extent we all copy each other. There’s only so much we can do, so crossovers happen all the time. But when they do, we each put our own spin on the tricks. Bishop doesn’t. He never comes up with anything new, either.”

  “But he won Big Air and Vert at the Extreme Games this time round.”

  “I never said the guy wasn’t talented. He’s an incredible mimic. I’ve never seen anything like it. He can see a trick done a couple of times and it only takes him about half an hour to have it down. For the rest of us, it would take months.”

  “So you’re jealous of that?”

  “Sure. I’d love to have the ability to get things down so quickly.”

  “But why hate him because of that?”

  “I don’t hate him because he’s quick on the uptake. I hate the fact that in the entire time I’ve been on the Extreme Games tour, I’ve never seen him pull an original trick. Part of what makes, or made, me great was my innovation in coming up with new tricks. On any given day, most of us are out there trying to come up with new and exciting moves. It’s a lot of fucking hard work. A lot of blood, sweat, tears, and wear and tear on our bodies, but we love it so we put up with it. Hell, some of us even welcome that shit. It’s what makes it worth it in the end. But Bishop,” I stop and shake my head, “he doesn’t ride for that. He rides for the fame and the money and that’s it.”

  “Because you’re such a shrinking violet yourself?” she asks.

  “Hey, I take my place in the spotlight because I’ve earned it. If I just wanted fame, I could have it, but at least I’m doing something to warrant it, unlike that unimaginative fuck.” I get up, grab my towel and head over to grab a bottle of water.

  “I’m sorry,” Bentley says when she catches up to me.

  I shrug. “It’s nothing.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

  I slam my water bottle down. “What? You don’t believe me?”

  She turns so she’s facing me. “No, I don’t.”

  “Why the fuck not?” I demand and cross my arms over my chest.

  “Because of your reaction,” she says and mimics my movement.

  “What reaction?” I ask, spreading my arms wide.

  “The one you’re having right now.”

  What the fuck? “This isn’t a reaction,” I tell her.

  “Yeah okay, keep telling yourself that,” she says as she picks up her own water bottle and starts heading towards the locker room.

  “So I take it we’re done for the day?” I ask her retreating back. In response, she flicks her hand over her shoulder, not even bothering to turn around. This right here is another reason I’m better off not getting involved with her. Bentley, whatever the hell her last name is, is one infuriating woman.

  I’m still fuming about how Bentley’s and my session ended on the drive back to Mav’s. That woman might get me going in all the right ways, but she also drives me fucking insane. I stomp into the house and slump in the recliner I’ve come to claim as mine.

  “What’s up your arse?” Mav asks as he comes out of his and Josh’s computer lair. Who would’ve known my big bro was a closet computer geek? But he loves it, and without it he wouldn’t have found Aubrey. If there’s one thing I know from watching Reed fall for Bria, it’s a couple in love. There’s no doubting Mav and Aubrey are
in love, like, way in love. Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy for them even if their PDA can get a little nauseating.

  “Nothing, man, I’m good,” I say.

  “Uh huh, sure. That face you’re making screams everything is just hunky-dory.”

  “Hunky-dory? Who are you? Carol Brady?”

  “Come on, Jax, I know something’s wrong, so why don’t you clue me in?” he asks.

  I smirk. “Yeah, it sucks when your brother has something going on but doesn’t tell you about it, doesn’t it?” As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know it’s a low blow, but I can’t help myself.

  Mav visibly recoils, like I slapped him. “Fuck you, Jax. I was only trying to help, but if you’re going to be a dick you can forget about it,” he says.

  “Whatever,” I say as I get up, only stumbling slightly. “I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back whenever.”

  Mav grunts as I walk towards the door. I don’t even know why I brought up all that stuff from when he left a year ago. If we’re talking truths here, I’m actually really fucking proud he had the balls to leave Booker and everything we have going on down there. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to do that. But it’s too late to take back what I said, so I guess I’m just going to have to apologise when I get back.

  The area where Mav lives is pretty awesome. It’s not too developed and the houses are pretty spread out, so there’s a heap of space everywhere. It’s almost like living out in the bush, but the Coast and all its glitzy lights are only half an hour away. Taking into account all of the traffic on the roads, that’s a pretty decent effort.

  I’ve been walking for about fifteen minutes, just bumbling along, when a mewing sound from my left catches my attention. I stop and listen again, trying to get a better idea where it’s coming from. I hear it again and take a step, then another, before I come across a tiny kitten, hidden in the bushes. I remember passing a bit of roadkill on the road, and can only assume that was its mum.

  “Hey, little dude,” I say as I reach for it. It’s tiny, with blue eyes almost too big for its cute, fuzzy face. It’s tabby, a mixture of grey, black, and white, with white paws. “What are you doing out here, buddy?” I ask. It mews in reply. “Yeah, I thought so. Was that your mummy on the road?” It mews again, and the sound goes straight to my heart. I can hear my brothers now: Jax Ryan, taken down by a tiny ball of fluff. “Come on,” I say, and manage to get my shirt off so I can bundle it up. “Let’s get you home, okay?” Seemingly satisfied with that, the kitten promptly falls asleep.