Motocross Me (Motocross Me 1)

Ash holds me in his arms for a moment longer and before I’m ready to be released, he pulls away. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah, tomorrow,” I say. Tomorrow seems so far away, yet, in a few hours I would be reporting to work before the sunrise. We say goodbye and I turn toward my house once more. This time, walking away from Ash when I’m not mad at him is even more of a Herculean task. With every fiber of my being, I want to run back to him, jump into his arms and live there forever.

“By the way,” Ash calls out.

“Yes?” I almost do run into his arms this time.

“Whose car is that?”

I look in the direction of Ash’s gaze and see a car that has never been in the driveway before. My heart catches in my throat. Parked next to my truck is a red Honda. My mother is here.

Chapter 20

I roll out of bed at four in the morning eager to start the day despite the five hours I tossed and turned all night instead of sleeping. The pungent coffee aroma doesn’t trigger my gag reflex and that assures me nothing will ruin this exciting day. Today is the biggest day of Mixon Motocross track’s life – Nationals. My nerves ar

e stretched to their limit with excitement for Dad’s business and for Ash’s race. I dress quickly and pull my hair into two messy braids that fall down my back.

I don’t bother with makeup but I do apply sunscreen to my face so I won’t regret being outside all day. Then I rush through brushing my teeth, most likely unnecessary because I am so ready to sink my teeth into one or even two of Molly’s breakfast burritos. Shelby is working at the track today so she’s probably already waiting in the kitchen for me.

I scramble through the hallway and to the stairs, anxious to see Shelby and start our day. Before descending, I notice something different in the hallway – the door to the usually empty guest bedroom is closed.

Memories of last night slam into me at record speed. How is it possible that I had fallen asleep and forgotten such horrible news? I was exhausted from last night’s activities and had come home to a sleeping house and passed out in my bed before I had time to dwell on the idea of Mom being here.

Now, while looking at the closed bedroom door, I have time to mull it over. Why is my mother here? And why did she have to bring Danny with her? Had she driven here like a mad woman wanting to yell at me for missing her wedding? What does Molly think about Dad’s ex-wife staying here? Molly is sweet; I’m sure she was just as hospitable to my mother as she is to any other guest in her home.

Another thought comes to me as I stand in the hallway paralyzed with anger – since I hadn’t actually seen my mother last night; maybe it isn’t her after all. Maybe it is one of Teig’s friends…is Teig old enough to have friends who drive? Probably not, I realize, remembering that Teig’s best friend still plays with toy dirt bikes in the sand.

I take quiet steps down the stairs and hope whoever was in the guest room will stay asleep until after I am at the track.

“Good morning,” Molly greets me from the kitchen where she drinks coffee and flips through the newest issue of Amateur Motocross magazine. I look around the kitchen and find it spotless as usual and this bothers me.

“Breakfast?” I ask, fully aware that I am being an ungrateful teenager but she had me accustomed to delicious freshly made burritos every race morning. I’m sure what to do with myself without them.

“Breakfast is in the score tower this morning.” She smiles, unfazed by my rudeness. “Since we have so many extra people working today, I ordered kolaches and doughnuts from the shop in town.”

This is great news – now I have another reason to rush to the track before Mom, or whoever is in the guest bedroom, wakes up.

“Shelby is there too,” Molly adds.

“Awesome.” I grab my sunglasses from the counter and slide them on top of my head. I may not need them at four in the morning, but I will later.

There is a calm and uneasy vibe in the room and I can tell Molly feels it too. We are both thinking about who is sleeping in the guest room. Instead of bolting out the back door, I turn to her. “Mom is here, isn’t she?”

“Jim invited them to come watch the Nationals.” She takes a sip from her coffee mug to conceal her fake smile.

“What?” I balk. Then in an effort to keep them asleep, I add in a much softer voice, “Why would Dad do that? Does he hate me?”

Molly shakes her head. “He just doesn’t like you two fighting. Plus he’s very proud of these races, and he wants everyone to see how well his track is doing.”

I roll my eyes to the ceiling and groan. Molly holds out her arm to give me a hug and I lean in to let her. I close my eyes and let my head rest on her shoulder. Inhaling, I can smell her perfume. The vanilla scent is comforting, even mixed with the coffee scent that permeated the kitchen.

From the gray strands in Molly’s curly brown hair, to her smell and the wrinkles in her eyes when she smiles – all of it reminds me of a real, storybook mother. My mom never looks or smells or smiles the way Molly does. I promise myself to tell Molly one day, when the time is right, exactly how much she means to me.

“Why don’t you wake your mom and Danny and show them where the tower is for breakfast?” Molly asks.

“I’d really rather not,” I reply sarcastically.

“Very well,” she concedes and pours another cup of coffee. “I’m sure they’d like to sleep in anyway.”