The Punk and the Plaything (When Rivals Play #3) - B.B. Reid Page 0,96
felt like a selfish asshole when I wondered if it had anything to do with Bee.
Hearing my footsteps, she looked up and then hurriedly dashed at her tears.
“Too late, kitten.” I crossed the garage until I stood next to her, where she was straddling her bike. “What’s the matter?”
Her trembling lips prevented her from speaking, so she handed me her phone instead. On the screen was an open email, and the subject read “Your AMA Pro Licensing Application.” Scrolling, I swallowed hard when I read the first line.
We are sorry to inform you that your application for a Pro Motocross License has been denied.
Shit.
The email went on to say that Four would be welcome to apply again after obtaining the required points in a qualifying class.
Whatever the hell that meant.
“Fuck, Four. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
Four was no longer crying, but her face could have been carved from stone as she stared at the wall. I’d only seen her race once, but it was enough to know that she could dust the fools that called themselves professionals. What right did they have to deny her?
“Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”
“What the fuck do you mean by that?” I barked.
Her startled gaze met mine, and her eyebrows rose at my scowl.
“You can’t just give up because they told you no. You make them eat shit until they say yes.”
“Well, they won’t,” she grumbled. “Not until I get the sixty points I need. I’d have to compete as an amateur, and I’d have a year and a half to do it.”
“So what’s the problem? We both know you’ll get those goddamn points.”
Four tried to hide the worry in her gaze and failed. “What if it takes me the entire eighteen months to qualify?”
I frowned. As amazing as Four was, I highly doubted it. Sure, the competition would be stiffer than she was used to, but if anyone had a chance, it was Four fucking Archer.
“I’d be on the road the entire time,” she added. “I can’t leave Rosalyn.”
“Your mom will be in good hands, Four. She’s going to be treated by the best doctors my uncle’s guilt-ridden money can buy.”
To his credit, Uncle Thomas had tried to care for Four’s mom himself until recently when he finally accepted that he was in over his head. Since he wasn’t Rosalyn’s legal spouse, my uncle was in the process of getting her recommended for involuntary hospitalization.
Four had taken the news with an extra dose of guilt. She’d been taking care of her mom since she was a child, shouldering her schizophrenia and nursing her back to health. Now that the burden had been taken away, she didn’t know where to begin living or even if she should.
“And Ever?” she asked, voicing the other plague on her heart. “He didn’t sign up to have a girlfriend who’s never around.”
“Ever is goddamned pussy-whipped, kitten. He’ll be right here waiting for you.”
“No,” she growled. “He’ll be at Cornell with all those available co-eds.”
“Do you trust him?”
“It’s not about—”
“Yes, it is,” I said before she could finish that ludicrous statement. “You either trust him or you don’t. If you don’t, then this conversation is irrelevant, and you should be having a different one entirely.”
“I’m not breaking up with him,” she sassed, catching my meaning.
“I figured as much.”
“Can you ever give advice without being such a dick?”
“Nope,” I said with a pop of my lips. “My methods are one-hundred percent effective.”
“Whatever.” I watched as she looked at the email one last time before pocketing her phone.
“So when do you leave?” I asked. I already knew she’d do what needed to be done. And even if my cousin was dick enough to have an issue with her absence, Four would never let it stop her. Girls like Four and Bee are what sad love songs were made of. My baby done left me and all that jazz.
“If I want to have my license in time to compete next season? As soon as possible.” After a few seconds, she sighed. “After graduation.”
Graduation was in less than a week, which meant she didn’t have a lot of time. Pulling out my phone, I searched for the kind of bike she’d need and whistled at the cost. “You don’t by any chance have ten grand lying around, do you? If not, Ever’s got the cash.” I pocketed my phone before saying, “You might need to think harder about giving him that blow job, though.”
The indignant look she gave me nearly folded me in