Page 147 of Crash Course

My phone vibrates in my jeans and I swipe for it. But it’s only Bree looking for updates on my exam.

“Not him?” Megan asks, sympathetic, as I tuck the phone away again.

After the accident, police came to take my statement. Dad said they were looking at my car for signs of tampering. But there’s so much I don’t know, and piecing together who was involved and how I crashed feels way outside my capabilities right now.

“If it makes you feel better, nobody’s heard from Jameson,” Megan informs me. “He’s probably holed up with lawyers trying to overturn the decision about Theo’s seat.”

“Or he’s afraid to come near you because he fucked up your life,” Zane chimes in.

We all look over at him.

“He did,” he says defensively.

I remind myself the last time we spoke, Jameson pushed me away. He wanted me gone and was willing to use whatever means necessary to do it.

By the time we reach the front doors, Zane and Raj are a few steps ahead, arguing over changes to the cars for the new F1 season.

This place used to feel so foreign. Now, all I see are the memories and the friends I made. Even if I walked out today and never returned, I’d have accomplished more than I expected to.

I’ve always felt safer depending on myself, but with Jameson, I could never keep the walls up. He made me fight until I realized I wasn’t fighting him at all, but the fear I’d been hiding behind.

On impulse, I hit his contact on my phone. Each ring on the line has my stomach flipping over. When his voicemail kicks in, I don’t hang up.

“It’s me. I don’t know how you knew to come after me, but I’m glad you did. Particularly given the horribly inconvenient timing.”

I take a breath and force myself to keep talking.

“When you told me to leave, it hurt like hell. But it also made me take a hard look at why I wanted to stay.” I swallow, my throat suddenly tight.

“I like this place, these people. How everyone wants so badly and isn’t ashamed of it. How they find a way to do what’s never been done. I like who I am here. Who I have to be, and who I’m allowed to be.

“I need you to know…” My feet feel heavier with each step. “It’s not the same. I miss walking down the hall and seeing you coming the other way. I miss checking my phone knowing you’re the one texting. I miss the way you look at me like I’m the answer to every question in the whole world.”

A tear slips down my cheek.

“I’m still here, but nothing is the same without you.”

52

Shay

I figured the Mustang would be in rough shape, but not this rough.

The police returned it to us a week after the accident. The tow truck driver shot me a skeptical look as he helped me and Dad wheel it back into the garage.

I’ve been assessing for more than an hour, trying to salvage what I can from the engine without much encouragement. Finally, I poke at the edge of the dented bumper and the entire piece clatters to the floor with a metallic clunk.

“That’s it. Time of death. I’m calling it,” Dad says from the doorway.

“Oh, so now you’re a doctor?” I shift up off my knees and straighten. Sweat covers my arms, plus streaks of dirt.

“Nope, but I am a pretty good mechanic. Even I know you can’t fix everything.” He offers me a hand and helps me up. “You ready for supper? I’ve got bacon in the fridge.”

“Sure.”

But he stops me before we get to the door.

“Shay, I need to tell you something.” He huffs out a breath as he comes and sits next to me on the workbench.