The track was in terrible shape. The hills had settled and rounded off from years of neglect, the whoop section was nonexistent and the berms that used to make taking the corners at a high rate of speed possible, now barely offered enough support for a snail’s pace. There where saplings as tall as me and weeds that were going to need a whole lot more than just pulling.
“Well, fuck. This is a mess.” Brett had already hopped of his bike and had his helmet in hand by the time I pulled up next to him.
“I can see that, Sally,” I replied. I climbed off the bike and hung my helmet on the handlebars. Brett Sallinger hated two things: losing and being called my favorite nickname for him. He bounced his shoulder off mine, giving me a friendly warning before he started walking the track.
“I can see it though,” he said as he reached the one-time peak of a double jump, stretching his arms out to either side of him. “This was probably bad ass.”
“It was.” It sucked that no one had maintained this place. It was a great track. So many hours and sweat had gone into making it my training area and playground. It wasn’t the Texas track I’d trained on for the past seven years, but it was something worth salvaging. “We’ll fix it. We’ve got nothing else to do, right?”
“Right,” he nodded. We were in Halstead for the next three months. A construction crew was coming to build my parents’ new house. My brother and Brett had come along to help me oversee the process. Well, Brett came along to see what kind of trouble he could get into in a small town and Hoyt came to keep my ass in check. Mostly, I think we really were just all looking for a break.
The past season had been a tough one. The level of competition had been heated for both me and Brett. This was the first year we were both racing for the same team: Throttled Energy. The energy drink brand was new to the market and thrilled to have both me and Brett on board. Brett and I were thrilled to have factory Yamahas custom made for us. The salary was pretty sweet too. As long we were winning, they were paying us. I’d taken home the title for 450 racing and Brett had nailed down his second freestyle championship. Both of us had been pushed to the max by the pressure, and while it felt good to come out on top, we needed a break before we kicked off our winter training back in Texas.
I surveyed the land for a long moment, reveling in the memory of what it was like before. Before the money, before the sponsorships and pressure… before the insanity. Fuck. I actually missed this place. Suddenly three months didn’t seem long enough.
Brett rolled his eyes at me. “Well, let’s get started then before you get lost in your daydreams.”
I hadn’t been on the back roads of Halstead in years. There was nothing for me outside of the small town I called home. My family. My boyfriend. My job. Since graduating high school, I hadn’t had a reason to leave the city limits. Occasionally, I would shoot down the highway to the closest town over. They had a mall and the junior college I had attended was there. But the country road I was driving down now? Much less traveled. For good reason. Surprisingly enough, I still knew the way. Down the narrow gravel roads to the unmarked intersection of No Man’s Land and Free Range.
The green fields of corn and beans had faded to harvest brown—a few of them already cut. The only other people I’d met on these back roads were driving a combine and a tractor pulling a grain cart behind it. It might not have seemed like it, but it was a busy time of year out here. The time when the farmer finally returned to the fields after months of waiting for crops to grow.
Straight out past the high school. Left at the Baptist Church at the town line. Follow the winding gravel around for about five miles. You’ll see an old barn, take a right.
When my boss was giving me the directions, I had an inkling of where he wanted me to go. The old Travers’ property. Sure enough, when I looked up the coordinates, I was right.
“Think you’ll be able to find it?” Mr. Hillcrest had asked as he handed me a packet of documents that needed a signature before the sale could be complete.
“I’m familiar.”
“That’s right,” he’d said with a smirk. “You dated one of the Travers boys back in high school. I almost forgot.” No he didn’t. No one did. Typical small town. People remember all the things you want them to forget. And want to forget yourself, for that matter.
“I did,” I’d said, unable to fake the same enthusiasm. I’d dated Reid Travers all right. I’d also had my heart shattered into fifty million tiny pieces by him, but I doubted Mr. Hillcrest knew that part of the story. All anyone knew about Reid now was that he was some big shot motocross racer these days.
Guess he got what he wanted.
I tried not to be bitter when I heard anyone mention his name, and honestly, I hadn’t heard it very often. Sure, he was from Halstead, but it wasn’t like he ever came back around. He left and went on to bigger and better things. Our sweet little town clearly wasn’t big and shiny enough for him.
“I’m just glad that the place finally sold. It’s been in holding for a few years now. It will be nice to finally make some money off of it.” The people who had bought the property from the Travers’ hadn’t been able to keep up with their payments.
“Who am I delivering these to?” I’d asked when he handed me the title.
My boss had scratched his balding head. “You know, I’m not exactly sure. The paper work says RTR Incorporated. The purchase actually went through the bank. We’re just the middlemen at this point.”
I nodded my head absently as I took the papers from his hand before heading out into the warm late summer air.
The majority of the leaves on the trees that lined the narrow roads were still full and vibrant, but as I drove with my window down I could feel autumn coming. The change was in the air. The humidity was waning and the summer flowers had begun to wilt. It wouldn’t be long before the days were shorter and the leaves were a fiery palette of colors. I turned up the radio to my favorite country station and with the musical soundtrack blowing up my speakers, my peaceful country drive was complete.
As much as I hated to admit it, I had actually missed being out here. I’d always connected this place to bad memories, but as I drove through, I remembered a few of the good ones. Riding on the back of Reid’s bike was the first that came to mind. Making out on Reid’s bike came soon thereafter. To be young and in love again. No worries. No responsibilities. It was just me and him, and his bike, of course.
The bike was always there. I should have known he’d pick it over me one day.
I shook my head as if that could actually clear the nostalgia from it. That was the past. Reid Travers was my past and that was exactly where he could stay. I’d done all right for myself since he’d left. Graduated from college, received my Real Estate license, started dating one of Halstead’s most eligible bachelors. I was doing just fine without the bitter taste of Reid Travers’ name on my lips. I’d get these papers signed and I’d be back in Halstead and off memory lane in no time.
The music was suddenly cut off abruptly returning me to the here and now.
“Incoming call from Georgia Bennett,” the computerized voice of my car nearly gave me a heart attack. “Press Connect to accept.”
“Hey, sis,” I answered after turning the volume to a more suitable decibel.
“What are you doing?” Georgia asked carefully.
“Driving.”
“Are you on your hands’ free?”
“Yes, Georgia. I always use it when I’m in the car. You know that,” I reminded her. Georgia was a bit of worrywart, with good reason. Two years ago, her high school sweetheart turned fiancé was killed. He was on his first tour with the Army when it happened. Georgia still hadn’t recovered and the idea of losing other people she loved had become a serious and daily concern for her.