Going Full Throttle

Epilogue - Tyler's POV

Two years later.

"Please Tyler? I'm ready! I promise."

I rubbed my palm over my eyes then cringed away as I got dust in my eyebrows. We'd been on The Playground for hours and the dirt stains on our jerseys and skin proved it.

I looked around at all the jumps with The Goon Riders logos plastered over them. It had taken the entire six months of the tour I missed to get this place ready, but fuck was it perfect. In a move that had made Pia's head almost explode, I'd managed to buy the plot of land that bordered the Thompson's. The same land that had the unofficial O'Hara track on it. Except now, it was legit.

Then I'd cleared the surrounding trees and managed to build an entire playground of jumps and obstacles. Jumps that Finn had been chomping at the bit to try.

"I dunno, buddy," I sighed. "If you get hurt your mom is going to castrate me."

"What does that mean?" he asked as he sat on top of his bike. One leg stretched out to keep himself up as he leaned on the handlebars. It made me so proud how comfortable he was on a bike. If I didn't know better, I'd believe that I somehow passed some of my natural talents to him.

"Let's just pretend I didn't say that out loud," I amended. Finn was such a cool kid, sometimes it was hard to remember that I was a parent and not just his friend. Not that we'd ever officially labelled it. Finn had grown out of introducing me as his best friend, but we'd never taken the leap to Dad. Not that it mattered. He was my kid. I was his parent. Whenever the rest happened, I'd be fine.

"Tyler," Finn pleaded with wide, desperate, eyes. "I checked with my gut. I checked it twice! It says I'm ready."

"Okay, Santa Clause," I laughed. "Look, you can try the small one. But you better feel right about it."

In all honesty, Finn was more than ready. I'd caught him catching air on the track several times when he thought no one was paying attention. He was a natural on his bike. The control he showed at seven made me so excited to watch him grow as a rider.

But after my ankle and the shitshow of a healing process that was, I needed Finn to always trust his own gut. Not my words, or anyone else's. Only his own inner voice.

Finn knocked his kickstand up and grinned with determination. With a sigh and a prayer, I dropped my helmet and did the same. I hit the throttle and took off toward the jumps with Finn right on my tail.

We parked our bikes side by side next to the smallest jump and I turned to him. I fixed him with a stern stare, as I explained how to take the jump and make the landing. Finn listened intently, nodding to show he understood. These were the moments where it wasn't all fun and games. I'd been reckless often in my career. I would never be reckless with Finn.

"I'll take it first. Watch me," I said as I dropped my helmet. I went to the end of the ramp and aimed my bike straight. Gripping the handlebars, I twisted my gloved hand smoothly over the throttle and took off.

This jump really was the baby of the group. While some of our ramps were sixty feet high, this one was only ten. I went over it as cleanly as I could. No tricks or flare. I only wanted Finn to focus on the basics of safety. Feet facing forward, knees squeezing tight, standing with a strong centre of gravity.

I glided through the air and landed on the opposite ramp. My arms were strong but relaxed as they absorbed the bounce of the tires through the handlebars. My ankle twinged just like it always did as my bike ripped forward and I skidded to a stop.

The six months of healing had been crap. It was the hardest I had ever worked to rehabilitate an injury. It was like my body rebelled against everything I did to strengthen my ankle.