Page 140 of Crash Course

“Get back in the car. We’ll do a restart. Say you had a moment of insanity. Three months from now, you’ll be driving every track you’d ever dreamed. This will all be in the past.”

I pull off my helmet as he says the words some part of me longs to hear. I can still have what I want. I can pretend these last few months were nothing but a blip in the radar.

I reach into my pocket for the ring she gave me. It’s cool and smooth, tiny but significant, and undeniable in its ability to endure.

“The cover-up wasn’t for some faceless Ashford employee. It was you who hit her parents’ car. You killed them.”

He blinks. “It makes no difference.”

“It makes every difference,” I spit out. “Tell me she’s fine.”

“The girl?”

“Say it,” I repeat. My jaw is locked, my fists clenched.

He exhales. “She’s fine.”

His confidence always reassured me. Even when I didn’t agree with his methods, I trusted him to be strategic. Predictable in his ego and vanity.

“Swear it.”

His eyes widen as he crosses to me, gravel crunching under his shoes. He’s studying me as if he’s not quite sure who he’s dealing with. Like maybe I’m not the son he raised.

“I swear.”

He reaches for my shoulder, grabbing it and shaking as if he can instill his faith in me. Dull pain shoots across my chest from the pressure.

The man I once idolized might be a hero to millions, but he’s not to me. We’re not the same. I can be better than him, not on the track but where it matters even more.

“I don’t believe you.”

My father’s face explodes in fury. “Jameson…”

I’m already yanking my helmet back on and getting onto the bike, the keys in it.

“You can’t leave. Everything you are is here. Everything you’ve built, everything I gave you.”

I kick it in gear and tear off into the night, gripping the ring between my palm and the handle hard enough to leave a mark.

47

Shay

“You shouldn’t have come.”

I’m not swayed by Bree’s ominous words from the passenger seat. “That’s not true. I love looking at dresses.” I pack as much enthusiasm into my voice as humanly possible.

“And bags?” she challenges.

“Especially bags.”

It’s a half-hour drive on back roads to the mall where I promised to help Bree shop for her date with the guy from The Junction. My romantic life might be going up in flames, but I can help my friend.

Bree shakes her head and rests an arm on the windowsill of the Mustang. “He’s an asshole. Whatever he said to you, I’m going to rip him a new one.”

Emotions rise up my throat. “Don’t waste your effort.”

I shouldn’t have let myself get caught up. Not in Jameson, or his world. Everyone warned me off it from the start. When it came down to it, he thought I was nothing. We were nothing.