Christmas at Mixon (Motocross Me 1.50)

He chuckles. “Is that so?”

“Yep. I haven’t even realized that you are gone.”

“You’re a terrible liar,” he says slowly.

I think I’m supposed to laugh at this, but I don’t. I just drag my finger along the steering wheel as I gaze at the foggy windshield wishing my boyfriend was here with me and not two thousand miles away.

“So what’s going on over there?” Ash says.

“I’m about to join the chaos at Mixon Motocross Park,” I say with a sigh. “I’m not really in the mood for hot chocolate and a million little kids running around.”

“Well I have some good news for you,” he says.

I sit up straighter. “You’re on a flight home right now and I’ll actually get to see you for Christmas?”

“No, it’s not that.” Even though I knew the answer would be no, it still hurts to hear him say it. Luckily he can’t see my face right now, or he’d feel bad. “The surprise is that I arranged someone to bring you your Christmas present tonight.”

“Someone?” I say, rolling my eyes even though he can’t see it. “You mean Shelby.”

I can practically see his smirk from over the phone. “I don’t know . . . maybe.”

“She’s really good at hiding surprises,” I say, shaking my head. “I’ve been with her just about all day and she hasn’t even hinted to anything.”

“Maybe Shelby isn’t a part of this surprise.”

“Why wouldn’t you pick her?” I ask.

“Because she can’t keep a secret to save her life,” he says, laughing. “So yeah, maybe I’m smart enough to choose someone really trustworthy to bring your present to you tonight.”

“Well . . . thanks,” I say, feeling sad again. “Your present is under my tree at home. I don’t know when you’ll get it.”

“I think I’ll be able to come home just after New Year’s. That’s not too far away, babe.”

New Year’s? As in over a week away? I close my eyes and rest my head on the steering wheel, suddenly feeling like I’m so disappointed I could throw up. I want to tell him right now that this long distance thing isn’t working out, that we should just go our separate ways until he’s out of the spotlight and can settle down in one location for months at a time. The words are on the edge of my tongue—but I don’t say them. I don’t want to lose Ash, not at all. Not even when being away from him is so hard.

So I just suck it up again. “I should go, my dad needs me at the track.”

“Okay, babe. Have a good night.”

“Yeah,” I say, swallowing down the pain of missing him. “You too.”

Chapter 3

I can see the glow of Mixon Motocross Park from a mile away. Situated off a county road in the middle of nowhere in this small Texas town, my dad’s motocross track is usually dark, blending into the landscape at this time of night. Races are held on weekends, not on a Thursday, and seeing the night air sparkle as I drive up certainly looks like Christmas. So why don’t I feel like it’s Christmas?

Probably because I’m working. One of the track’s staff members, Marty, flags me down the moment I drive into the parking lot. I roll down my window and he leans in, handing me a flashlight with a glowing red cone on the end.

“I need you to direct traffic into the field over there,” he says, motioning toward the flat land we use as a parking lot.

“Sure thing,” I say, throwing him a warm Christmas smile. In all my months of working at the track, I’ve signed in riders and put together trophies and counted cash. I’ve never directed people where to park. Guess I’ll figure out the technicalities once I’m doing it.

I park near the score tower and then jog across the park to where a few cars are already arriving. I wave to Dad when I pass him and Frank at Frank’s concession stand. The place does look pretty awesome tonight. There are tons of Christmas lights and blow up decorations everywhere. If I were a kid, I’d probably have a blast.

When I reach the grassy field, I walk toward two other people who are waving around red-coned flashlights and quickly recognize the short one as Teig, my little brother.

“They have you on parking lot duty?” I ask, lifting an eyebrow. He’s barely eleven years old,

despite being only an inch shorter than I am.