Noah scoffs, shaking his head. “Were you even watching?” he says. “I won! I beat them all. I’m good, and I love it.”
“Motocross racing—”
“Isn’t a career,” Noah finished snidely, sounding like he’d had this conversation a hundred times already. “And keeping us chained up on the peak isn’t a life. You should deal with that.”
He spins around, shoving my nachos back at me, and stalks off again, circling the waist of some young woman, both of them disappearing into the crowd.
I risk a glance at Jake, seeing his jaw flex as he yanks the socket wrench counter-clockwise like it’s his kid’s mouth he’s tightening shut instead of a bolt.
So that’s it.
It isn’t hard to see what Jake loves and values about living his life on his terms, away from the horror of our family.
But Noah’s hungry for something else. He’s not lazy, careless, or uninspired. He’s unhappy.
Setting down my tray, I walk up and lean on the table where Jake works.
“Is he right?” I ask, hearing the man on the loudspeaker announce another race. “Are you hiding up here?”
He tosses me a look and then rises to reach around the machine, fiddling with something.
“Pull your shirt down,” he grumbles.
I arch an eyebrow, fighting to hold back a smile.
He tosses the tool and leans down on the table, letting out a sigh.
“Goddamn kids…” He shakes his head.
He looks over at me, giving me a sad smile. He might not want Noah to be hurt like he was, but if Jake knows anything, it’s that our parents don’t always know what’s best. I mean, who’s to say Flora would’ve been a happily-ever-after for him?
But he would’ve ran with her anyway, because we want what we want. Noah will do the same.
“Hey,” someone says.
I turn and see Cici Diggins walking into the tent with her hands in her jean pockets as she eyes me.
I still. Neither of our interactions have been particularly pleasant. What does she want?
My uncle moves away, off to dig in the truck bed for something, and I look back at Cici, her nose showing no sign that it was bleeding earlier today.
“Hi,” I finally answer.
She holds her hand out. “Cici.”
We shake. “Tiernan.”
I guess we haven’t been properly introduced.
“Are you okay?” I gesture to her nose.
But she just breathes out a laugh. “I’m the only one who hurts me.”
I release her hand, not sure what that means.
I glance over my shoulder. Jake opens the truck door, digging in the glove box for something.
“So, you wanna dance?”