Phase (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #1) (34 page)

Only time would tell.

THREE WEEKS AFTER Beau’s parcel had arrived, I was the happiest and most miserable I’d ever been. For the stolen moments I was able to talk to him, I was reminded of all the reasons I was willing to try to do the long-distance thing—all while being tortured by the fact that I couldn’t touch him like I wanted to. Couldn’t kiss his soft lips, or feel his fingertips brush over my skin like I needed. We were in a holding pattern—not quite in a relationship but not just friends either. The truths I needed him to know always danced on my tongue, but I didn’t see the point in voicing my worries about the future when I wasn’t even sure we had one together.

Whenever I complained to Angel, she told me to just let go and take whatever I could. She even tried to convince me to get a lock on my door and invest in a good pair of headphones to take advantage of vocal cues if I couldn’t get physical ones. The idea had passed through my head on more than one occasion, but I didn’t think either Beau or I were quite ready to explore the option of screwing ourselves in front of each other. Yet.

As time had drawn on, my Skype sessions with Beau had grown longer, but the number of days we could talk lessened. In the twenty-one days since our first “date,” we’d spoken a grand total of seven times. Three of those were the first three consecutive nights after I’d received his parcel. Then his schedule had kicked back in, and mine had gone crazy. We kept in contact as much as we could by email and text, but it was so delayed—sometimes with twelve hours or more between sending and receiving—it was hardly ideal.

The one highlight of that shitty week was when Flynn called me to tell me my bike had arrived. Not that it was really my bike. As agreed, I’d put up the initial cash, and Flynn and his brother, Cain, were going to do the bodywork at cost, and then we were going to share the profits.

When I arrived at Eastern Smash Repairs early in the morning, it became apparent that the bike had arrived a few days earlier, and they’d already worked on it. The thing looked brand new. The metallic grape-purple paint that coated the straightened body gleamed showroom fresh.

“Fuck, she’s a beauty,” I said, running my hand over the freshly polished leather seat. Memories of riding her through the US ran through my mind. “Shame she’s got to go.”

“If you’re going to get into the business of flipping, you can’t form any emotional attachments, kiddo,” Flynn teased.

“I know. It’s just, well, I had some good times with her. She’s not just some bike I bought to flip. During her difficult time in Sacramento when I had to rebuild her, we bonded.”

He smiled down on me, a fatherly grin that told me he’d suspected as much and possibly had something planned. “I figured you’d feel that way. Pick one.” He nodded toward my Ducati at the back of the shop—where it had sat since Dad had it towed there after my jaunt to Sydney.

“What?” A thrill raced through me. Was he suggesting what I thought he was?

“Well, the Ducati was a gift from us. The two bikes are worth about the same; if anything this Honda here nudges a bit ahead in those stakes, so pick one. Whichever you pick will be yours; the other will be sold.”

“Are you kidding? There’s no choice!”

“I didn’t think there would be.”

“You’re not upset that I’d pick this over the one you gave me?”

“Nah, means a little of me rubbed off on you. You’ve got my good taste. Between all of us, we’ve raised you right. The Ducati is great, a real speed machine, but this baby”—he patted the seat—“she’s got a certain
je ne sais quoi
about her.”

“That she does.” My heart was pounding with excitement as I trailed my fingers over the newly shined sissy bars.

“Have you told your mum and dad that you rode across the US yet?”

“Ha ha, you’re funny, Uncle Flynn.”

He raised his eyebrow at me. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“The fact that I’m still alive is evidence of that being a no. They were miffed enough that I didn’t have Angel with me the whole time.”

“You should trust them more.” The disappointment in his voice made my heart stop and leap into my throat. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to sweet talk my way out of it like I normally would. “If you want them to treat you like a grown-up, you have to act like one. That includes telling them about your bike licence and the fact that this was your ride overseas. Otherwise Dec isn’t likely to understand why you want it.”

I kept my eyes fixed on the gleaming metalwork—better than looking at the disappointment in Flynn’s eyes. “He thinks all bikes are death traps though.”

“He’s just trying to protect you. Why don’t I give you a lift home and help you tell them?”

“Let me guess, if I say no, you’re going to hold my bike hostage until I do?”

His lips stretched into a Cheshire cat grin. “Am I that easy to read?”

“I know you too well.”

“You promised me you’d tell them last time. Instead, Luke and I ended up getting reamed out over the irresponsible gift we gave an apparently unlicensed driver. I won’t always take the fall for you, Pheebs.”

“I know.”

“So?”

I sighed. It wasn’t going to be a fun conversation, but Flynn was right. I needed to talk to Mum and Dad more, about everything. It wasn’t like they were unreasonable monsters—at least not all the time. “Fine.”

“HOW COULD you be so damned irresponsible?”

I hung my head at the tail end of Dad’s lecture. For over fifteen minutes, he’d gone on the exact tangent I’d expected over the fact I had my bike licence from New South Wales and the fact that I’d ridden across the States without warning them. “I’m sorry I lied, okay. But I wasn’t being irresponsible. I was being safe. I know how to handle a bike. Angel knew most of my plans, and I had my mobile on me the whole time.”

In fact, the most irresponsible thing I’d done the whole trip was agree to meet Beau—and neither of them had expressed any concern about that. True, they didn’t know all the details, but that was beside the point.

“Pheebs, not telling us was irresponsible,” Mum added. She held my hand to lessen the impact, but it didn’t stop the bile rising in my throat. “What if we’d had a phone call that you’d come off your bike? We wouldn’t have believed it was you.”

“Not to mention getting your licence in such an underhanded way!” Dad added.

A snigger drew my attention. When I glanced toward the sound, I caught Max and Brock ducking out of sight. Of course they’d be listening in. I wanted to shout at them to fuck off, but it would only get me in more trouble. Instead, I sucked down a breath and met Dad’s eye. “I know, but you don’t understand, Dad. When I’m on a bike, I’m free in a way I can’t be in a car. It’s stupid that on a Queensland licence I’m allowed to drive alone but not ride alone. I just sped things along a little.”

“What sort of example are you setting for your brothers and sisters?”

“Hopefully one where they are willing to take a stand against injustice.”

In my peripheral vision, I watched Flynn trying to hide his laughter. It was testament to his relationship with my parents that they hadn’t kicked him out before starting their lecture. He was wise and didn’t make a sound though.

“Nothing I did was illegal,” I added, looking up at Dad through my lashes in the way that usually got me what I wanted. “Not really.”

“She does have a point,” Mum conceded. It was almost bizarre to have her on my side when Dad wasn’t. Other than the trip to the States, it had never happened before. All I could put it down to was her understanding I was an adult, and Dad still seeing me as his little girl.

“What about insurance?” Dad continued. “What would have happened if you’d had an accident?”

“The bike’s listed on the policy. I’m listed as a driver. I’m licenced for it. It would have been fine.”

“And while you were gallivanting around the US?”

“Uh, I had a policy on the bike, and we made sure she was covered by her travel insurance as well,” Flynn said.

Dad turned his gaze on Flynn, making it clear with the fury buried in his turquoise eyes that he wasn’t out of the doghouse.

I blew out my breath in a relieved sigh. Dad was not only clutching at straws now but also directing his anger at other people—it meant he was near the end of his puff.

“I’m not overly happy with you keeping this from us, either,” Mum admonished Flynn.

“It’s my fault,” I said. “I promised him I would tell you. He nudged me often enough.”

“Why didn’t you?” Dad asked.

“Are you kidding? With your stance on bikes? How could I tell you?”

“My stance?”

“That they’re all death traps.”

“They are all death traps. You come off one of them, and what’s stopping your face from colliding with the bitumen?”

“Nothing. That’s why I won’t come off. It’s also why I ride like I think everyone else on the road is gunning for me.”

“She’s a natural on the bike, Dec,” Flynn said. “Almost graceful.”

A grateful smile lifted my lips and I mouthed, “Thank you.”

He winked at me. Flynn had never been afraid of Dad and had never been willing to back down when it came to me.

“I’m telling you now because I want to do the right thing. I’m an adult now, and as much as that scares the heck out of me, I need to start acting like one.”

“This Beau boy seems to be a good influence on you,” Mum said.

“Yeah, maybe,” I said. Talk of Beau just depressed me. It had been over five weeks since I’d last shared his bed. Since I’d held him in my arms and kissed him.

“Beau?” Flynn asked.

“Oh, she didn’t tell you about the guy she met while she was overseas?”

Mum started to fill Flynn in on all of the information she knew. I pleaded with Dad with my eyes to get him to stop it, but he shrugged as if helpless. He probably was. Mum and Flynn could go on for a while when they got onto a tangent.

“Well, if you two are happy to discuss my love life without me, I’ll just head to my bedroom then.”

“I hope you mean metaphorical love life,” Dad said, giving me a stern look.

I raised my brow at him. “Do you really want to know the answer to that?”

His lip curled up into a sneer as his discomfort flickered across his face—perhaps at my unwillingness to give him the answer he wanted to hear straight out; not that I could without lying to him. “No. Actually, I think I’d prefer not to know.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“Thank you for talking to us,” he said reluctantly, drawing me into a hug. “You’re right though; as much as I hate to admit it, you’re an adult now and have to make some of these decisions for yourself. Just be careful on that death trap, won’t you?”

“Yeah, of course.”

I headed to my room and saw a missed call on my computer and a text message on my phone.

I’m here for the next fifteen minutes or so if you’re free to talk before I go to bed. I miss you.

I checked the time the message arrived. Ten of the fifteen minutes had already slipped away. Even though it barely seemed worth it for a couple of minutes—in fact, it’d probably do more harm than good—I called him.

“Hiya,” he said. “I was worried we’d miss each other again.”

“Me too. How are you?”

“Exhausted.” He looked it too, with bags growing under his eyes and his voice weary and slow.

“That’s not good.” I wanted to be able to help, but there was nothing I could do for him while I was so many thousand kilometres away. “I hope you can get some sleep before your next race.”

“Me too. Seein’ you helps though.”

I smiled. “Guess what arrived today? Well, actually it arrived a few days ago at least, but I got it today.”

“What’s that, darlin’?”

“My bike. She’s a beauty. All the panel work has been straightened and painted. You’d hardly recognise her. I’ll get some photos and send them to you.”

A dreamy smile played on his lips. “Hmm, those images of you on your bike have never left me. It was a sight to behold, and that was before the bike was done up. I can only imagine it now.”

“Is that right?” I said. “Maybe I should get some photos of that. Maybe even some clothing optional ones.”