The only thing that kept me from flying off the handle completely was the long, fast car rides I would go on after work. It was the time I spent at the local track (which was little more than a circular dirt path).
When the internship ended, I drove home knowing my father was already lining up interviews and job opportunities so I could start my career in earnest.
I had to get away from it.
I needed to breathe.
When I learned my sister Ivy moved in with some guy none of us had met, I took off. It was the perfect excuse to get the hell away. After all, I’d always been Ivy’s biggest protector. Dad couldn’t say shit about me heading her way. He wanted his daughter looked after as well.
So yeah, maybe I’d used my sister as an excuse for a little vacation.
But then I pulled in the driveway.
I knocked on the front door of a house in a swanky-ass neighborhood.
The sight of my sister made me forget the reason I’d sped up the interstate to get there. Sure, her choice of mate hadn’t been my favorite, but the guy had since grown on me. But not just Braeden… Ivy had a whole family here.
A family I felt a part of almost immediately.
In a lot of ways, more so than I ever had with the family I was born into.
It was almost unsettling. Looking around at people I hadn’t known very long, feeling like the person I was meant to be—the one I’d suppressed most my life to please my father—was known by them and they accepted him.
Suddenly, it didn’t seem like I was escaping from something, but to something.
To the life I really wanted. The life I never considered I could have. My hobby, my passion could be more than that.
It was like I was a car discovering I’d been driving with my emergency brake engaged.
Maybe that’s why I was such an adrenaline junkie now. I had lost time to make up for.
Telling Dad I wasn’t coming home, I wasn’t going to be following up on those high-profile jobs with starting salaries of a hundred grand a year, hadn’t been easy. Telling my father, a man I loved, that I was rejecting everything he wanted for me was probably the hardest thing I’d ever done.
But Ivy gave me courage and so did the taste of the life I could have here.
He hadn’t been happy about it, but it wasn’t the fight I’d imagined it would be. He was a lot quieter about my choice, a lot more accepting. Even Ivy seemed mildly surprised.
I didn’t question it.
Why would I?
What kind of man looks for trouble when it’s the last thing he wants?
A dumb one.
It’s already been noted I’m not dumb.
The sound of cars putting the pedal to the metal and squealing off the starting line brought me back to the present.
It was rare for me to lose focus here at the speedway.
Clearly, I was bored.
I guess drag racing wasn’t the rush I needed tonight.
Or maybe it was the fact I’d already won both times I’d raced tonight.
I watched the two cars—an older model Camaro and a Monte Carlo SS—battle it out on the quarter mile straightaway.
The Monte Carlo backed off the gas just a smidge toward the finish line.
It cost him the win.
The Camaro went full throttle all the way through. Fully committed every time. It was exactly why it had yet to lose a race tonight.
Until now.
I slid my Mustang up to the starting line before being motioned to do so. The man regulating the line gave me a glare and was about to tell me to move back, but I threw it in park and flung open the driver’s door.
“What the—” he called out, stepping toward me.
I lifted a hand and waved him off. The Camaro had turned and was looping around to likely get back in line for another run.
I planted the boots I was wearing on the pavement and met the driver’s eyes even across the way. It was a challenge, direct and clear.
I already decided I was done tonight, but since I was already in line, since it was already my turn, I’d have one last run.
It was going to be a good one.
I felt the eyes of the crowd watching, and I knew they were confused. So I lifted my arm, held out my hand, and pointed at the sleek black car, undefeated tonight.
I hadn’t seen that Camaro here before; this driver wasn’t a regular.
That meant he was new to the scene or just passing through. Either way, I was going to make use of the chance to race someone new.
The people watching nearby all started cheering and yelling, clearly entertained by my challenge. Drag races at this track on a night like tonight weren’t like this. It was get in line, wait your turn, and race the guy beside you.
The driver didn’t pick his opponent. He raced who was there. Our times got written on the window in white, and we all tried to beat each other’s times.
Well, mainly, I just tried to beat my time.
I was very competitive with myself.
Then later, on more planned-out nights, the drivers with the best times would come back and race, sort of like the best racing the best.
I glanced at the man regulating the line to see if he would object, but he seemed rather amused I called out someone the way I had.
I dropped my arm and stared at the Camaro. It slowed, and I could feel the eyes of the driver. I watched him; he hesitated. I was surprised.