UNCLE JOHNNY DIDN'T LOOK TOO pleased when he pulled into the driveway the following day, spying Nico and I strategically positioned between dad's garage and truck—bikes ready and day bags packed.

The ex-trainers shoulders fell inward and he pinched the skin between his brows as he put papas gray Chevy in park. "I said I'd work with you," he groaned, addressing me and only me.

Nico didn't seem bothered by the comment. Not as he rolled his bike into motion and sauntered lazily at my side toward the back of the truck.

"Don't look at me like that," I snarled—gravel crunching beneath my boots. "You should have kept your big mouth shut."

Johnny grated his teeth—twisting in his seat as the truck jostled. Nico smiled—his shit-eating grin a little too wide as he stood in the box and strapped down his bike.

He likely tricked Johnny into telling him about our training, and the man glaring viciously at me was probably drunk or angry at the time.

Nico leapt out of the box, landing quietly before offering to take mine.

"I can't work with him," Johnny hissed as Nico rolled my bike up the ramp.

"Why not?"

Johnny lifted his hand, counting off every reason with a tick of his fingers. "He's spoiled, insubordinate, cocky, and your dad will shit a brick if he finds out."

I sagged, jutting my black and teal-coloured hip to the side. "He's not going to find out," I promised because Nico would endure the same wrath as Johnny if he did. And he was enough shit as it was.

"He doesn't listen," Johnny growled, tossing an arm out the window. "Do you know how many trainers and coaches that kid's gone through this past season?"

I was fully aware. After Hama got sick and dad stepped back from racing to help with Papa's business, Nico's attitude increased tenfold.

I glanced at my little brother hovering over my bike, his focus set on the straps on the opposite side of the box. "He really wants this, Johnny," I murmured so he couldn't hear.

Johnny sighed. "I can't train someone who doesn't want to be trained, Nadine."

"Can't or won't?"

Johnny frowned.

Nico stood, adjusting his backwards cap before jumping out and hurrying back to the garage for our packs. "If he trains with you, he stays out of trouble," I said, urging him to see reason. "Give him a chance, please."

Nico closed the tailgate with gentle hands so he wouldn't wake mom and dad. The last thing we needed was for them to ask questions.

"Nico's not required to train on weekends," I reminded. "Therefore, his absence at the track won't be noticed. He doesn't show up anyway."

"Cause he's lazy," Johnny muttered.

"Will you just try?" I snipped. "Monday to Friday, he'll train at the track. Saturday and Sunday, he'll work with you. It's not like you're not getting paid."

Nico came to my side, that smart-ass smile on full display.

Johnny pointed sternly at my little brother. "I'll give you one day. You screw up, you're gone. There'll be no drinking and no partying. If you do anything that would embarrass you or your family, you're done. I won't treat you any differently than I treated the others just because you're Nick Baker's son. Are we clear?"

A muscle ticked in Nico's clenched jaw, but he nodded nonetheless.

Johnny shifted. "Get in."

I hoisted myself into Johnny's truck, stuffing my bag at my feet and my Yeti cup in the console's holder, leaving Johnny to pull out of the driveway and mutter about Hadley and Nick's annoying spawns.

I ignored his bickering, stuffing my headphones in my ears as Nico leaned forward, continuing to bait him.

You'd think Johnny was still a child, given the way he was retaliating, but I wasn't paying attention. I was too busy reading the text that came in.

Levi Hunt: Morning, beautiful. How'd it go?

My lip curled into a smile that showcased all my teeth.

Nadine Baker: As well as can be expected. Johnny's not thrilled about training Nico.

I watched the text bubble appear.

Levi Hunt: I'll try to get there sooner.

I smiled.

Nadine Baker: I appreciate that.

And I did. I didn't know why Nico was so adamant about training with Hunt, and I'd be lying if I said it wasn't a little strange. Nico was a Baker. By name alone, he should hate Hunt, but then again, so was I, and I didn't. I glanced at my little brother, noting how he pulled his Beats headphones over his head and hunched over his phone, likely searching for a song.

My phone dinged, drawing my attention.

Levi Hunt: I'll see you in a few hours.

I thanked him and set my phone down, ignoring Johnny's questioning gaze. "Who's texting you this early?"

"None of your business."

Johnny rolled his eyes.

We drove through the winding roads to Papas—the trees bleeding past in a palate of warm browns and orange hues.

It didn't take long before we reached the house, unloaded the bikes and rode up to the track. And that's when Johnny's switch flipped from annoyed uncle to heated trainer.

"You need to work on your turnout!" Johnny yelled from his lawn chair atop the hill. "This isn't ballet, Nico! Point your toes in."

I chuckled, then immediately regretted it.

"What are you giggling about?" Johnny asked. "You're the one who needs to work on breaking. Isn't that what your boyfriend told you?"

I shot him a look. "At least he's helpful and not condescending," I snipped back.

Johnny huffed a laugh, but it wasn't funny. We trained for hours and were getting nowhere. "You're Nick Baker's kids," he said. "This is stuff you should know. Stuff your dad, should have worked on correcting."

I didn't meet his gaze. "Tell him that."

The sun grew as the day went on, and so did Johnny's impatience.

Nico and I pulled up next to Johnny, out of breath. My little brother removed his helmet, his wet hair clinging to his forehead as Johnny grilled him about safety and the importance of riding on his toes. "I know."

"If you knew, you wouldn't have done it," Johnny snapped. "Use your head," he went on in our mother's language.

Nico kicked his clutch and went again, leaving me to trail after him.

"Don't touch your break Nadine!" he shouted in frustration. "After the jump, take the turn! Stop being so damn scared!"

My blood boiled, but I did as asked. Or tried to.

Johnny cursed, and we rode.

Again.

And again.

My muscles shrieked, and my back protested in pain. Hunt was right. I needed to stop complaining so much and work on my damn cardio. I couldn't fucking breathe.

We pulled back up next to a disappointed Johnny—my throat raw.

"Again," he coached from his seated position. Disappointment stamped across his face.

Nico slumped, trying to catch his breath. "Give us a second."

"You don't need a second."

Yes, we did. "He needs a drink," I argued.

"He's lazy," Johnny snapped before returning his attention to my little brother. "Put your helmet on and go again."

"I need a minute."

Johnny tsked. "It's no wonder your dad won't move you up in class. You're not even working for it."

Suspicion sketched my brows, but neither my brother nor Johnny noticed.

Johnny rose, taking a step towards Nico. "Do you think your status as Nick Baker's son is enough for you to win a season? Or maybe you think sponsors and endorsement deals will just fall into your lap?"

My anger sparked, and I snapped. "What's your problem, Johnny?"

"He should know better! And so should you!" He pointed. "All that talent. All the training. Wasted on stunts and dumb mistakes!"

Nico looked away toward the garish sun.

"Yeah, I heard," he snapped. "Do you realize how lucky you are, Nico? Do you know how many riders would kill to be in your shoes? You have everything! Trainers, coaches, gear, opportunities other kids would kill for and here you are, begging me to train you. A has been, with nothing going for him."

I caught the hurt strained in Johnny's words and the way his throat bobbed.  It snubbed out my anger almost immediately, replacing itself with sheer pity.

"Is that how you want to end up?" he went on, weaker this time. "Like me? Living off your parent's wealth because you have nothing else to offer?"

Neither Nico nor I said anything. Bell Racing was all Johnny had after Hama passed. It was all Papa had.

I stole a glance at the house, to the glass doors papa used to position himself before and watched as my dad and uncle Johnny taught us how to ride. Then at the dirt floor beneath my boots. Papa built the track with his bare hands when the property contained nothing more than the guest house and a single skid steer he'd used to grow his multimillion-dollar business. A track Johnny, my dad, and twin uncles trained on with nothing more than hopes and dreams.

My heart sank as Johnny shook his head, reaching around and snatching his chair. "Call me when you're ready to train. When you're ready to work for it."

He trudged down the hill, leaving Nico and I alone.

The silence strangled, but it was nothing compared to my brother's anger.

"Nico—"

"Just forget it," he snapped. "I shouldn't have come."

Nico kicked his clutch before I could say anything more and took off toward the trails that led to the cabin, leaving me with regret and a mountain of worry.

A/N: Ouch Johnny. No need to be an ass.

I hope you're all well! I've been listening to the above song on repeat. It's been fuelling these next few chapters.

Nadine Baker 👇🏼