Surge: Bad Boy Racing Romance (Fastlane Series Book 1)

by Storm, Sloan

  My brother scoffed and walked towards me. “Like hell you are. You’ve been drinking all God damn day.”

  He stopped a few feet away from me and pointed at the empty bottle of alcohol. By that time, my mother stood next to him.

  “Dyson,” she began, wrapping her arm around my brother’s torso. “Don’t be ridiculous. Come inside and sleep it off.”

  I looked at both of them, scoffing and shaking my head.

  “Get out of my way.”

  Just then, my father came around the side of the garage, appearing in the entrance.

  “Jesus Christ,” I groaned. “What is this—a fucking family intervention?”

  Wordless, my dad walked over and joined my brother and my mother.

  “Get off the bike, son. You’re gonna hurt yourself. Is that what you want?”

  I leaned over the front of it, crossing my arms and propping them up on the grips. “What I want is to be left alone, so I can go for a ride and think.”

  No sooner had I finished saying that than my brother stepped in front of the motorcycle.

  “You aren’t going anywhere, Dyson.”

  I chuckled, sat up and started the engine. When I gunned the throttle, a high-pitched whine filled the interior of the garage. Mom and Dad raised their hands to their head, covering their ears.

  Chance never moved.

  “Get out of the way, Chance! So help me, I’ll run you over.”

  Chance shrugged and shook his head. “If you want to get out of this garage, that’s exactly what you’re going to have to do!”

  I nodded, revving the throttle one more time as a final warning. “Get out of the way, Chance! I’m not telling you again!”

  My brother raised his chin, crossed his arms and shook his head.

  He left me with no choice.

  I started the bike and headed straight for him. At the last instant, he jumped out of the way. I skidded out of the garage, nearly losing control before standing it up and revving the throttle.

  “Asshole!” I heard my brother yell from behind.

  At the same time, I heard the voices of my parents. As a group, they all yelled at me to come back, pleading with me not to take off. But that’s the only thing I wanted to do.

  I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve been down the streets near my home. Hundreds. Thousands? I knew them like I knew my own name - every groove in the road, every turn and dip. That was my gift. No one could remember a surface like me.

  It was my edge.

  I weaved in and out of traffic, not caring about traffic lights or stop signs along the way. About halfway through town, I noticed a cop sitting in the parking lot of a strip mall. I gunned it, going from fifty to eighty in a matter of a few seconds. Like I hoped, he saw me. The next time I looked in my rear view mirror, I saw the telltale blue and red flashing behind me.

  I smiled, and leaned down over my bike, becoming one with it. The streetlights and restaurants streaked by like urban lightning in my peripheral vision. Shifting again, I gunned the throttle, escaping the bright lights of the city. Within a matter of minutes the lights on the police car disappeared into the night.

  I sat up, savoring the victory for a minute or so.

  The bike hummed beneath me, beckoning me to push it once again. This was what it felt like to be free. Nothing standing in the way of me and my need for speed. This was what I lived for, and while I ripped across the open highway, I realized what the team was doing to me.

  I felt like I was dying.

  Just then, my cell phone vibrated inside the pocket of my jeans. I slowed the bike, eventually bringing it to a stop. I’d said what I had to say to her. I meant it. She was better off without me. No matter what she had to tell me in this text, I had no doubt about my feelings.

  I reached in, pulling out the phone and flipping it over. After my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed that it wasn’t Ava at all.

  It was my God damn mother.

  I squeezed my jaw tight, throwing the phone as hard as I could. “Fuck!”

  It smashed against the ground, splitting into pieces.

  Without wasting another second, I gunned the throttle, leaving a trail of dust and gravel behind me. I shifted, faster and faster, accelerating quicker than I had yet. Before long, the speedometer reached one hundred miles an hour. I cranked the throttle again, shifting it into the highest gear. One hundred five, one hundred ten, the speed came faster and faster with each second.

  And then, with one last crank on the gas, the bike exceeded one hundred twenty miles an hour. With nothing between me and the road to Mount Baldy, I turned off the headlights and lowered my head, screaming at the top of my lungs. At last free, alone with the speed that fueled me, I ripped across the open road in the darkness and into the unknown.

  It was the last thing I remembered.

  AVA

  I’d returned home, determined to put Dyson out of my mind for good.

  I still had the issue of telling Simon about his school, and I owed it to him not to put it off any longer. And so, when he arrived home that afternoon, I greeted him at the front door. After getting an update on how his day went, I decided to just get it over with as soon as possible.

  “Simon, honey,” I began, grabbing a couple of glasses from the cupboard in the kitchen. “Would you like a snack?”

  I turned just in time to see him plop down on the sofa and pick up his tablet. “No, thank you.”

  “All right, what would you like to drink?” I asked.

  “Um, some orange juice please.”

  After getting it out of the refrigerator, I filled his glass. Once I did, I looked at my empty one for a moment, feeling like I needed something else besides juice to settle me down.

  Vodka.

  Reaching into the freezer, I pulled out the seldom used bottle and cracked it open. Not the best parenting strategy, I knew, but life wasn’t perfect and neither was I. After a healthy three second pour, I filled the remainder of the glass with orange juice and put everything away.

  Exiting the kitchen, I took a quick sip of my drink and winced.

  That would do.

  “Here you are, sweetheart,” I said, extending the glass of orange juice to Simon. “How was school today?”

  He took the glass from me and immediately took a drink of the juice. After he finished, he placed it down on the table in front of him. “Okay.”

  “Good, that’s good,” I muttered, taking another gulp of the liquor-infused drink in my hand. It burned my throat as it slid down. I needed it to warm the rest of me.

  Come on, kick in already…

  I walked around the table and sat on the couch, opposite from his position. Engrossed in his game, Simon didn’t look up. I exhaled, chewing my lip while I tried to figure out the best way to begin. With each second that passed, sitting there in silence wasn’t doing me any good. I took another healthy gulp and shook my head, placing my drink down on the table.

  “Simon, honey,” I began, turning towards him. “There’s something very important you and I need to talk about.”

  Distracted by his game, Simon listened to me with halfhearted interest.

  “Uh huh,” he muttered.

  I smiled, stretching my body across the couch and reaching towards him. A split second later I took the tablet from his hand and turned it off, placing it on the table in front of me.

  With his full attention now focused on me, I proceeded to tell him everything. I explained all of the steps I’d been through to try and keep him enrolled at his school because I knew how much he loved it. I watched his face as his expression changed from confusion, to sadness, to acceptance.

  When I finished telling him everything that I thought mattered, I reached in his direction and motioned for him to hold my hands.

  “This is only temporary, okay?” I began, looking him in the eye for emphasis. “I haven’t given up, but that’s just the way things are right now. So, as it stands today, you will be in public school in th
e fall.”

  Simon’s small fingers wrapped around mine. He looked up at me.

  “It’s okay, Aunt Ava. You don’t have to explain. I know that you’ve done everything you can.”

  I squeezed his tiny fingers. It was the only thing keeping me from breaking down. How he came to be so mature and wise at such a young age, I’d never understand. I didn’t know what to say——there were no words. Instead, I tightened my grip on his hands and tugged him to me.

  Within seconds, we embraced.

  Brushing his hair aside, I kissed him on the cheek, apologizing and promising him I’d never give up. Eventually, I released him and leaned back into the couch. He looked up at me, mild-mannered and seemingly unaffected.

  Meanwhile, my insides churned with a mixture of guilt and self-loathing. Not wanting to subject him to any of what was fast becoming a drunken pity party, I reached for his tablet and passed it to him.

  “Why don’t you go to your room, Simon?” I began, extending it in his direction. “I’ll come and get you when dinner is ready.”

  He took it from me, smiling and looking into my eyes. “I love you, Aunt Ava.”

  I smiled back at him. “I love you too, Simon. More than anything. Now go ahead, go to your room.”

  Just as he walked down the hall and disappeared into his bedroom, the front door to the apartment opened, and Jillian entered.

  “Hey,” she said, closing the door behind her. “What’s going on?”

  She dropped her purse on the kitchen counter, never taking her eyes off of me. While she stared in my direction, I felt my face melt with sadness. With a couple of shots of vodka on my brain, I reached up and covered my eyes, convulsing while the tears began to flow.

  “Oh no, Ava, what’s wrong?”

  Without looking up, I heard Jillian walking towards me. Within a few seconds she just sat down next to me on the couch and pulled me close to her, putting me in a forceful embrace.

  I wept, without bothering to say a word. Jillian began to rock back and forth, holding me against her while she did.

  “What is it?” she whispered. “Whatever it is, it can’t be that bad.”

  Eventually I recovered enough to tell her about Simon’s school. I told her about the team letting me go. She did her best to console me, telling me I’d done all I could to hold back the inevitable for so long.

  “I’m sorry you had to go through that by yourself,” she said, leaning away from me. “You should’ve told me. I could’ve been here for you, you know, to help.”

  I rubbed my eyes with the base of my palms.

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I groaned, sinking back into the sofa cushion. “It’s hopeless.”

  “No, nothing is hopeless, Ava.” she replied, “It just seems like it right now. You’ve been through so much worse than this in life. You’ll get through this also.”

  For a few moments at least, the tears stopped flowing. I looked up at her.

  “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

  She smiled back at me. “Remember that one day when you’re a rich doctor, would you?”

  I chuckled at her, closing my eyes and leaning my head into the couch cushion.

  “What happened with Dyson?” she asked.

  Without thinking, I lurched forward, reaching for the half empty glass of orange juice and vodka. Jillian followed my movement with her eyes. I grabbed it, lifting it to my lips and taking a healthy sip. The liquor still stung my throat, and after my first swallow I coughed, covering my mouth.

  She leaned away from me, eyeballing me with suspicion. “What’s in there? Are you drunk? How did I not smell that on you before and… Ohhh, vodka?”

  Swaying, I snapped my head in her direction. “What? What are you talking about?”

  Jillian motioned with her fingers. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Give that to me.”

  I exhaled, closed my eyes and passed the glass to my roommate with reluctance. She took it from me and stuck her nose inside to confirm her suspicion.

  “Ava! What are you doing! This isn’t like you!”

  I moaned and collapsed into the softness of the sofa cushion again, placing my hands in my lap.

  “What happened with Dyson? Don’t make me ask a third time…”

  As best I could, I told her everything that happened in his family’s garage. I told her that I’d confessed my love to him. Like any good friend, Jillian probably did what she thought was best. She badmouthed him and told me how much he didn’t deserve me.

  She may have been right, but I was still alone. And now that Simon was kicked out of the school, I was even worse off than I was before I met him. At least with Dyson, I felt something I hadn’t for years.

  Now, I had nothing.

  “What are you going to do, Ava?”

  I looked up at her, uncertain if more tears were to follow. “What do you mean? Do about what?”

  Still clutching the homemade screwdriver in her fingers, Jillian continued, “About Dyson. What if he tries to contact you again? What are you going to tell him?”

  I closed my eyes and shook my head. There was nothing left for us to say to each other. There was nothing to tell.

  The thought of that was more than I could stand. I felt my body go limp for a split second before grief overwhelmed me again. Jillian placed my unfinished cocktail down on the table and swept me into her arms.

  I began to sob uncontrollably. I didn’t even know why anymore. I missed him, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  “Shh…” Jillian said, hugging me and hugging me close to her. “Everything is going to work out. You’ll see.”

  I cried myself to sleep that night—soft sobs squeaked from my soul.

  AVA

  After feeding Simon breakfast and getting him off to school the next morning, I returned home, making my way to Jillian’s bedroom. Just when I thought I had no more tears, I heard the sound of my phone ringing and vibrating in my pocket. I reached for it and raised it in front of my face to see who was calling.

  It was Dyson’s mother. I answered. Everything changed in an instant.

  Not since the night my sister died, had I endured such gut wrenching news. Dyson had crashed his motorcycle in a crop field at speeds well over one hundred miles an hour.

  Not long after he’d left the house, Chance took off in his pickup truck after him. Dyson had taken the same route that they’d raced each other on when they were kids, and Chance saw the tracks leading off the highway. Yet once again, by some miracle, Dyson managed to avoid serious injury.

  He was stable, awake and asking to see me.

  Stunned, I dropped my purse and phone in my room before knocking on Jillian’s door.

  “Come in!” My roommate called out from her bathroom. She’d finished showering moments earlier. I walked inside and sat down on her bed. A few seconds later she came out, one towel wrapped around her torso, another around her head.

  “Jesus, Ava, you look terrible. What’s wrong?”

  “It’s Dyson.”

  Jillian rolled her eyes and shook her head. “You know how I feel about what he’s done to you. I can’t keep being a shoulder for you to cry on. If you don’t trust me as your friend to give you good advice then I’m afraid…”

  I interrupted her, balling my fists. “Dyson wrecked his motorcycle! He could have died!”

  I bent forward at the waist, slamming my knees against my elbows and dropping my head into my hands. In seconds, Jillian sat down next to me on the bed, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.

  “Oh my God, honey, I’m so sorry… I didn’t know.”

  Reaching around the front of her, I returned her embrace and buried my head into her shoulder. Whatever strength I had left to fight back my emotions left me.

  I began to weep again. I was so tired of crying.

  Just like the night before on the couch, Jillian helped me, moving back and forth with a gentle rocking motion. She remained silent, occasionally reaching up
and running her hand from the crown of my head down to the center of my back, smoothing my hair in the process.

  “Is he…” she whispered, pausing for a moment. “Will he… be okay?”

  I leaned away from her, wiping away my tears once more.

  “I think so. That’s what I was told, anyway.”

  Jillian forced a sympathetic smile to her lips. She shook her head back and forth, moving slowly from one side to the other. I looked away from her, pushing myself off the bed into a standing position.

  “I know what you’re going to say. I just… I don’t want to hear it right now.”

  Jillian exhaled, and I listened while she stood from the bed. I noticed her walk back towards the bathroom in my peripheral vision.

  “I’m glad that he’s okay, Ava.”

  I pivoted, watching her while she removed the towel from her head and began to dry her hair.

  “I feel a ‘but’ coming,” I said, sniffling a bit.

  Without turning to look at me, she said, “I just think it’s a mistake. That’s all. I know you. I know you want to get on a plane and go out there right now.”

  I looked away from her, shaking my head and rubbing my upper arms, trying to get rid of the sudden chill I felt.

  “The way I see it,” Jillian said, pausing and looking at me before she continued. “If that guy really cares about you, he’ll come here and tell you.”

  I didn’t know what to say. Maybe Jillian was right. Maybe she wasn’t.

  The only thing I did know was I needed time to think, time to figure out what all these feelings meant. But, no sooner did the notion occur to me than my cell phone rang in my bedroom. Without saying anything to Jillian, I turned and walked out of her room.

  “Don’t do anything stupid, Ava!” she yelled out.

  I ignored her and continued towards my bedroom, nearly in a full jog by the time I reached my phone. To my surprise, Marco’s number flashed on the display. Assuming he had word about Dyson’s condition, I wasted no time in answering.

  “Marco,” I began, pacing back and forth across my bedroom. “Have you heard anything? What’s the latest with Dyson?”

  “No, I don’t have any news other than what is being reported right now.”