Page 86 of Law Maker
Persuading her might be harder than inventing fake symptoms and pulling them off for three weeks straight just to dodge my therapist’s office. So wish me luck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Kaia
It was one of those rare afternoons when Sharon wasn’t meeting friends or out shopping. I found her in the living room, watching TV and sipping coffee from a mug.
“What are you watching?” I asked, sinking onto the couch beside her.
She didn’t have time to mask her surprise. I couldn’t blame her—I hardly ever started conversations, and she usually only spoke to me when it involved school, therapy, or dance.
“Oh,” she said, lowering the volume, “just a home renovation show. I don’t know why I find them so addicting. Maybe because once upon a time, I planned to study interior design, but at the last minute I switched to tourism instead.”
“Did you ever use what you studied?”
Sharon tapped her red nails against the mug and nodded. “Oh, yeah. I worked as a hotel manager. That was my last job before my husband… Anyway.” She sipped and set the mug on the coffee table. “Traveling has always been my biggest passion.”
Perfect. Maybe convincing her wouldn’t be as hard as I thought. My palms were clammy, so I wiped them on my jeans. Get it together, Kaia. It was just a conversation.
“I’d love to travel more,” I said. “Maybe we could go to Emerport tomorrow? I need clothes, and Mandy says the best malls are there. You could also watch Asher race. I’ll wait for you. I think he’d want you to go.”
Sharon tucked a few loose blond strands behind her ear and studied me, as if gauging whether I was serious. “Did Asher tell youthat?”
“Well…” I laced my fingers together, praying they wouldn’t shake. “We aren’t close enough for him to say that outright, but I figure every racer wants family in the stands.”
Her eyes dropped to her nails, expression tight. “You’re probably right. It’s just hard for me. The last time I went to the track was the day Asher’s father died in that accident. If it were up to me, my son would’ve gone to college and gotten a safe office job. But he grew up watching Sergio race and never saw another path.”
The flicker of sympathy caught me off guard. I worried about Ash too, though I rarely showed it. Racing was his passion, and I’d stand by him no matter what.
“I don’t think Asher will change,” I said softly. “So maybe you could show him you care.”
Sharon’s blue eyes lingered on mine. For a long beat she stayed quiet, then finally smiled. “Shopping’s always a good idea, right? Let’s do it. After the race.”
***
Since Asher had left for Emerport on Friday, he had no clue Sharon and I would be at the track.
The stands were packed. Families with kids filled the rows, buzzing with excitement as they waited for the race to begin. My father sat with the team’s management while Sharon and I joined the other spectators.
A gentle breeze cooled my flushed face, carrying the scent of the sea. Emerport, unlike Stetbourg, lay on the coast, its air cleaner—at least until the race began and gasoline and scorched tarmac filled my lungs.
I’d been to plenty of races, but never this eager. Watching Asher in videos wasn’t the same as seeing him in person. I hoped he won. It would make this day unforgettable.
Moments later, the engines roared, and the crowd erupted around me. Banners waved in the air, fans shouting for their racers. I fixed my gaze on the track and released a shaky breath when I spotted Asher’s bike. Hesped past the stands with three others, but on the first turn he left two behind.
The racers soon blurred into streaks of color. I could only tell them apart when they flew close to the stands.
“He’s first,” Sharon said, her hand closing around mine as she stared without blinking.
Ash leaned into the corner so far I swore his knee grazed the tarmac.
“¡Vamos, chico! ¡Vamos, vamos!” A man in a gray suit and sleek sunglasses shouted beside me. I bit back a grin. Alejandro. I’d only seen him a handful of times, but he was always warm—and he cared about Asher.
He pressed a fist to his mouth, raked a hand through his styled hair with a groan, then brightened. “Sí, joder.” With a chuckle, he unlocked his phone and started typing.
“That man is Asher’s agent,” Sharon said, pointing with her chin.
“Yeah, Alejandro. I know.”
