Page 32 of Broken Track
My heart skips a beat, and I quickly type back,I love you more.
But he never responds.
Hours pass, and something feels off. At first, I push it aside, telling myself he needed space. But the longer I sit with it, the more uneasy I grow. A nagging worry settles in my chest, and my fingers grip my phone tightly as I stare at our last messages.
By the time the sun sets, my stomach is in knots. I try calling. No answer. Something is wrong.
I grab my keys and drive, following the pull in my gut. It leads me straight to the racetrack. I spot Xavier’s truck parked in his usual spot, but he’s nowhere in sight. When I step outof my Jeep, my heart hammers against my ribs. The pits are lit by fluorescent lights, casting eerie shadows across the dirt and asphalt.
And then I see him. Xavier. My breath catches. He looks wrecked, his clothes wrinkled and his hair a mess. Like he’s been through hell.
A sick feeling washes over me.
He stumbles forward, unsteady on his feet, like he’s drunk or worse. His shoulders slump, his movements sluggish, like he’s barely holding himself together. When his eyes finally meet mine, they’re clouded, something dark and haunted unsteady beneath the surface. My stomach clenches as dread coils deep in my gut. This isn’t just exhaustion. It’s something else. Something worse. And then I see it. A mark on his neck. Red. Angry. Lipstick smeared along his collar.
No.
I shake my head and step back. “Are you fucking kidding me?” My voice cracks, barely above a whisper. Please tell me I’m wrong. Please. Tears spill down my cheeks before I can stop them.
Xavier opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. His lips part, and his hands twitch at his sides, yet he doesn’t deny it. He doesn’t fucking deny it.
I feel like I can’t breathe. Like the air has been ripped from my lungs.
Then I notice movement behind him. I look past Xavier, and my stomach drops. A woman. Smirking. Satisfaction gleaming in her cold, dead eyes.
My world shatters. A choked sob escapes me as I turn and run. I don’t care where. I need to get away. From him. From this.
The chilly night air burns in my lungs, but I don’t stop. I can’t. My boots pound the pavement, each step fueled by the desperate need to escape, to outrun the image burned into mymind. Xavier stands there, disheveled, wrecked, and marked by her.
That woman.
I barely saw her face. Just the cruel smirk, the satisfied gleam in her eyes. Like she had won. Like she knew exactly what she was doing when she stepped out from behind him, like she wanted me to see it.
Xavier called my name, but I didn’t stop. I didn’t look back. If I had, I would have broken. I wouldn’t have survived it.
I don’t remember getting home. Mia’s there, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under her. The second I walk in, she looks up, her eyes widening. “Izzy? What the hell?”
I shake my head, moving past her, numb. I don’t answer when she follows me to my room, hovering like she’s afraid I’ll shatter. Maybe I already have.
I collapse onto my bed, burying my face in my pillow. I don’t cry. Not yet. I feelempty.
Mia sits beside me, her voice softer now. “What happened?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. “Xavier,” I whisper.
That’s all I need to say. She understands.
The next day, I throw myself into work, hoping the hum of an engine and the smell of oil will drown out the ache in my chest.
Mia’s with me in the garage, leaning against the workbench with arms crossed. She hasn’t left my side since last night. “You’re gonna have to talk about it at some point,” she says.
I shake my head, tightening the bolt on the engine I’m working on. “No, I don’t.”
Mia huffs. “Izzy…”
A car pulls up outside. I glance over my shoulder, wiping my hands on a rag, but the moment I seeherstep out, my stomach drops.
The bitch from last night. Nolan called me last night and told me her name is Marie. He was pissed about what happened.
