Page 107 of Riding the Curve

When his lips collide with mine, he shows me every reason why I should believe him.

We walk hand in hand toward the gate, and I give him one more long embrace. “Blow them off the track, baby. And I expect a call the minute you cross that line and finish qualifiers, okay?”

“Yes, chef,” he hums, giving me a quick peck. “I’ve always loved bossy Hen.”

He chuckles as I slap him on the shoulder. “I’ll be counting down the days until I see you at your race.”

“Me too,” he says, sweeping a rogue hair out of my eyes. Begrudgingly, I peel myself out of his arms and head for my gate.

The attendant scans my ticket, and I look back one last time before walking down the jet bridge. Emerson’s hands are in his pockets, and though he wears the biggest smile on his face, his eyes can’t hide the sadness. He mouths those three little words one more time, and I do the same.

Even though I know everything will be okay, I can’t help but feel like I’m leaving a little piece of me behind.

CHAPTER 39

Emerson

“Hot damn!” Beau hollers, slapping me on the back while the rest of the pit crew continues to congratulate me. “Emerson Lane’s back! Congrats, kid, on making it through the qualifiers. You’ve put in the hard work, and it paid off. Now, get some rest. Big day tomorrow.”

As I walk down the tunnel toward the locker rooms, eager to text Hen, someone shoves against my shoulder. It throws me off balance, and I have to press my palm against the wall to right myself. When I look to my side, I’m met with an all too familiar face.

Axel Graves.

He steps in front of me, blocking my path.

“Out of my way, Axel. I don’t have time for this,” I huff.

Instead of moving, he folds his arms across his chest and snarls.

“Fine. I’ll move.” I sneer, shifting around him. As I pass, he grabs the collar of my race suit, holding me in place.

“Tomorrow, you stay in your lane. Pull one more stunt like our last race and I will do everything in my power to end your racing career.” A smug grin forms on his face as he releases me and shoves his way past me.

As soon as I get into the locker room, I send a text to Henley. My phone lights up almost immediately with a congratulations and a promise that she’d call soon. By the time I walk through my hotel room door, my phone is ringing in my palm.

“I’m so happy for you!” Her voice squeaks through the phone a little higher-pitched than usual. “I can’t believe I get to see you race for the first time ever. I mean in person—obviously in person. Even though I was mad at you those years we didn’t speak, I may have pulled them up on the computer every once and a while. You know⁠—”

“Hen?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you nervous?”

“Yesss.”

When I hear her little whimper chime through, my chuckle vibrates against the phone, and I try to collect myself so that I can work on calming her down. Henley always rambles when she’s nervous.

“Okay, deep breaths. Walk me through everything. From the appetizers through the desserts. Wine pairings. Everything. And if you need to do it again, we will.”

By the end, she’s breathing easier. Before we hang up, I make her promise to call me right after her interview.

“Have fun at dinner. I think I’ll turn in early tonight as well. My flight leaves early tomorrow, and I have a feeling that after I cook tonight, I’ll be exhausted both mentally and physically.”

“When will they tell you?”

“Since I’m the last chef they’re giving a trial to, they said I’ll have my answer tomorrow. I told them I’ll be flying out early to see you, so hopefully that means they tell me before I get on the plane. Or else it’ll be a long two hours alone with my thoughts.”

I laugh. “Everything’s going to all work out, you’ll see. Good luck, baby.”