Quarter Mile Hearts

by Jenny Siegel

  “Fine,” I ground out.

  “Can we change the lineup and let me drive on the outside?” Kyle asks, wide-eyed, and he looks a little worried now.

  “Nah, we need you in the middle, Dillon’s on your left. Catch you later, Leigh, Max.” And he walks away. I release the breath I was holding; that little interaction with Zach has freaked me out. Even though he was talking to Kyle, his eyes didn’t leave me the whole time.

  “If he looks at you like that again, I’ll fucking throttle him.” Max’s hands fist at his side as he stares at Zach’s retreating back. I tug on his hand, bringing him back; we’ve got more important things to worry about. Kyle looks panicked, and I don’t want to freak him out anymore.

  “I’ll race for you,” I hear myself say. Max turns to me with eyes blazing.

  “No you will fucking not.”

  “Max,” I burst out exasperated.

  “No way in hell are you racing that car.”

  “But Kyle can’t.”

  “Well, Kyle will just have to drop out.”

  “But…” I try to piece together a plausible argument.

  “No, you’re not. Not in a car that isn’t 100 % safe.” Kyle is watching us argue back and forth, and we’re not doing much to calm him down.

  “You worried about me?” I turn and take a step toward Max, wrapping my arms around his waist and he gathers me into his embrace.

  “Hell yes, I am.” His mouth seals over mine and with the stroke of his tongue, I forget we are standing in the middle of the quarter mile.

  “Will you two fucking cut it out. What am I going to do?” Kyle wails, and we drop our arms from around each other.

  “How much did you put in?” Max asks.

  “Not much, $200 for the first race. I didn’t know Zach was racing, or I wouldn’t have bothered.” Kyle looks miserable at the thought of the imminent race, but not as bad as he’ll feel if he totals his Camaro.

  “Okay, when the race starts, don’t floor it, that way you can control the pull. Once the other car is clear then speed up. It doesn’t matter if you lose, you don’t want to wreck your car,” Max explains, and Kyle nods in agreement.

  “Just say you were having mechanical issues, and we can vouch for that,” I add and pat Kyle on the arm. He still looks worried but has lost that deer in the headlight look now that he has a plan.

  “It’s time.” Max claps him on the back and holds the door while Kyle climbs in, offering him a few more words of encouragement before he backs off and Kyle drives to the start line. I catch Zach Anderson watching us, and there is something in his stare that I don’t like. He nods when I meet his eyes, but I don’t trust him one little bit.

  A girl with red hair, that I’m assuming is Zach’s girlfriend, starts the race. Kyle is the only racer from town, and I wonder why they have to race here. Don’t they have a straight road they can race on?

  The cap drops and they all pull away from the start line. Sure enough, Kyle’s car starts to pull to the left, but he manages to control it. As Max suggested, he didn’t floor it and was slower off the line. Dillon was quick off the mark and was clear of Kyle by the time the pull became too much. Once he is clear, Kyle speeds up but nowhere near as fast as the Camaro can go. He is last over the line, and while I feel for Kyle, it is better that than to wreck his car and do himself some real damage.

  Max and I wait until everyone else leaves. Kyle promises to bring his car in on Monday for us to fix. He didn’t seem bothered in the end about losing, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he avoided any races against Zach Anderson again.

  We sit on the hood of Max’s car and enjoy the silence now that the truck with blaring rap music has left.

  “It’s not the same,” Max says cryptically and leans back.

  “What’s not the same?”

  “Coming up here. There’s something missing.”

  I sit up and turn to look at him. “Like what?”

  “A spark.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? You’re beginning to sound like Aaron.”

  “You’re missing.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “It’s boring with you gone. Don’t get me wrong, I still get a buzz from racing, but it’s not the same. It’s a different crowd. Before it was more fun, a chance to meet up with your friends, compare cars, and talk shit. Now, I don’t know, it’s about crazy bets.”

  “What crazy bets?”

  “With the likes of Zach Anderson.”

  A shiver of revulsion works through me. “I don’t like him,” I confess and feel better just saying it. “There’s something about him that I don’t trust. The way he asked about my dad, that was off. And the way he looked at me.” I lie next to Max, slightly uncomfortable on the hard metal and his arms tighten around me.

  “I wasn’t too happy with the way he was looking at you either,” Max grumbles.

  “Max?” I rest my chin on his chest to look at him.

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you stay with me tonight?”

  “Is everything all right?”

  “Yeah, I just… I don’t know. I don’t want to stay on my own tonight.” It is totally irrational, but for the first time ever, I am scared to stay on my own. Something about tonight has worried me, but I can’t put my finger on it. I suppose I could call Beth and go and stay at her house, but I know I would feel so much safer having Max with me.

  “Sure, I’ll stay with you. And I promise I’ll behave.” He treats me to one of his wicked smiles and I beam at him.

  “You don’t have to go that far.” I wink and he reaches out to grab me by the waist, pulling me flush with his body. Tingles work their way through my body and accumulate in the pit of my stomach, where an ache starts. An ache that only Max can take away. As if he knows what he is doing to me, he sits up and pulls me off the hood. Capturing my mouth in a toe-curling kiss—one filled with pleasure and the promise of exactly how good he can make me feel with just his lips—he pulls me to the car.

  How the hell am I going to survive Max Morgan? I’m risking my heart for him, and I just hope it pays off.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The next morning, we drive to the garage together and open up. After a short argument over which radio station to listen to, we finally decide on the one playing Pink.

  We have already started on the truck that is being overhauled when Aaron comes in, a huge smile on his face. I guess he stayed at Beth’s last night.

  “Where are you going to live when you get married?” I ask, never having given it much thought. Max stops work and grins at Aaron. “You can’t stay with Granny Betty,” I carry on, and Aaron shifts. I don’t think it has actually occurred to him where they will live.

  “Lynda and Pat will want to see the back of you. I bet they’ll even downsize,” Max adds jokingly and Aaron frowns.

  “We could live at your house.” Aaron nods in my direction. “With your dad.”

  “And where would I go?” I frown, more than a little put out.

  “You’ll be leaving when Uncle Hank is back on his feet.”

  “Maybe… maybe not.” I catch Max’s eye and wink, my wide smile mirroring his. Aaron’s face is a picture as his eyes widen and his mouth drops. I give him two minutes before he’s texting Beth to tell her the latest gossip. He must notice the difference between Max and me because he’s been shooting us furtive glances all morning.

  Waking up next to Max certainly has its benefits, it’s put me in a good mood. But my good mood doesn’t last much longer when I open the official-looking letter from the bank.

  “What the fuck,” I shout from the office, and Max and Aaron come running.

  “What is it?” Max searches my face for any clue. I am holding the letter so tightly that I have nearly crumpled it in half in my hand.

  “Did you know about this?” I look at both of them. Blood is rushing in my ears so loudly that everything else is muffled.

  “What? We don’t know what you’re talking
about.” Max steps forward to take hold of my wrist, prying the letter out of my hand to smoothe it out on the desk so he can read it. I sit down in the chair with a bump and stare into space, trying to get my head around what is written in black and white. He reads the letter through and shakes his head as his eyes meet mine.

  “What is this all about?” he asks, eyes wide.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Aaron jumps in.

  I open my mouth but don’t know where to start. I can’t say the words, they just won’t formulate in my brain.

  “Hank tried to take a loan out against the garage but was turned down,” Max summarizes the letter into one sentence.

  “Why?” Aaron wonders, along with the rest of us.

  “I don’t know. But I intend to find out.” I spring up from my chair and march around to the other side of the desk.

  “Leigh, wait. You can’t charge over to the hospital in this state. Let me come with you.” He takes hold of my hands, and I look down at our joined hands and think how natural they look together.

  “Okay,” I whisper, ignoring the way Aaron is too busy staring at us until I nudge him in the ribs.

  “Can you take care of things here?” He nods but hasn’t taken his eyes off our still joined hands. “Kyle is coming in with his Camaro. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” I warn.

  “Okay.” He looks a little shell-shocked.

  “Promise?” I know how Aaron likes to gossip, but I don’t actually think he would about this; I just need to be sure.

  “I promise, just go.”

  • • •

  The drive to the hospital is silent, but my brain is racing as it tries to process what the letter that is now scrunched up in my back pocket means. What has my dad gotten himself into now? Has my mom been in touch and wants half the house or something? None of it makes sense. Why would he need that kind of money?

  “Stop worrying, Leigh. We’ll work it out.” Max reaches over and takes hold of the hand that lies limp in my lap. He has certainly been the calm one so far.

  Once we arrive at the hospital, I am all for racing through the corridors until we reach Dad’s room, but Max holds me back with a firm grip on my hand, forcing me to walk at a slower pace. The elevator seems to take ages as it climbs steadily through the numbers, stopping at every floor. People take their time entering and exiting the elevator, and Max pushes me into a corner, shielding my body with his. It is totally inappropriate, but I just want him to ravish me here in the elevator cart.

  “Stop giving them all dirty looks,” he mumbles and kisses my temple.

  “I can’t help it; they are all so slow. Don’t they know we’re in a hurry?” I bounce on the spot until Max plants his hands on my shoulders to keep me still.

  At long last, we reach Dad’s floor and sedately walk down the hallway to his room. Surprise, surprise, he’s watching Discovery, an episode of Fast and Loud that I’ve seen at least twice so he must have seen it more than that. His face lights up when he sees us in the doorway, and I feel a twinge of sympathy that is quickly replaced with anger when I feel the letter burning a hole in my back pocket.

  “What are you two doing here together?” Confusion replaces his initial surprise, or maybe it’s the thunderous look on my face that tips him off.

  “What’s this about?” I pull out the crumpled letter and smooth it out on his table. He doesn’t seem surprised to see it and looks up at us.

  “How did you get that?”

  “It came to the garage. What is going on? Why would you try to take out a loan against the garage?”

  “I didn’t want you to find out.”

  “Clearly not, but I have, so I want to know what in the hell is going on.” I am almost shouting now, and Max casts a worried glance at the door, sure that at any moment Nurse McCartney is going to walk in and throw us out for upsetting her patients. Taking a step forward, he rests a hand on my shoulder that helps in some way to calm me down.

  “We’re just concerned, Hank.”

  Dad sighs heavily and tips his head back against the mound of pillows at his back. He looks weary, and for the first time, I realize that he isn’t as young as I always remembered him. To me, he will always look like he did when I was a child. Always strong and protective with an infinite amount of patience. Except, of course, when I was dancing in front of the TV when the Indy 500 was on. Nothing was ever too much trouble; he would stop whatever he was doing to help me. With my homework and projects and he taught me everything I know about cars. I never felt I missed out on not having a mom around because my dad was everything to me. He made up for it in every way that counted.

  But looking at him now, bandaged up and uncomfortable, I see that he may still be Superman in my eyes, but he is just as fallible as the rest of us. For now, it’s like role reversal, and I need to be the one to help him, not make him feel any worse about whatever mess he’s in.

  Sitting down on the edge of his bed, I take his rough, weather-beaten hand in mine. “Dad, please just tell us what’s happened.”

  He scrubs a hand down the growth of stubble on his chin, which is in need of a shave, and blows out a harsh breath, steeling himself.

  “That race, the one that I got injured in. Well, the stakes were high, higher than normal, and higher than they should have been for such a stupid race. But Tom Anderson was there-”

  “Wait, Zach Anderson’s dad?” I butt in, and when my dad nods, I cut a look at Max. I knew something was off the other day when Zach was asking about dad.

  “It all got blown out of proportion and the wager got higher and higher until we were at twenty-five grand.”

  “Twenty-five grand for a stupid race down the quarter mile, what the fuck were you thinking?” All sympathy is rapidly disappearing; I can’t believe how stupid he has been.

  “Language, Leigh,” he warns before carrying on. “The car went into a tailspin, and I lost control. It spun around, and I hit the car behind me before I ended up at the side of the road upside down.” Even just hearing these little details makes my stomach seize. When I realize how close I was to losing him, it makes me feel physically sick.

  “So you never finished the race?”

  “No, I was in the lead and then I crashed. Tom Anderson won.”

  “Then surely the bet’s off?”

  “You would think but not according to Tom.”

  “Did he come to see you?” Max asks. He hasn’t said much, but he’s pissed, if the way his jaw clenches and unclenches is anything to go by.

  “Yeah, the other day. That’s when I contacted the bank. He said I still had to pay up. Then he clapped me on the shoulder, which was sore as hell, and told me to get well soon.”

  “That fu-” I jump off the bed just as Nurse McCartney sticks her head around the door.

  “Everything all right in here?” she asks, her gaze jumping from one to the other of us.

  “Yes, fine. We were just leaving.” Max stands and takes hold of my wrist to guide me toward the door.

  “We’ll be back later,” I say, and I swear my dad pales slightly as he hears the veiled threat.

  “Oh, you’re the boy who waited in the ER for Mr. Storm.” She pats Max on the arm as we pass and my jaw drops. This is news to me; Max never said anything about seeing Dad that night. Why didn’t he call me? All this time that we’ve spent together, getting closer, him apologizing, and then I find out this. What a fucking idiot I am, getting sucked in by Max Morgan after I swore that I would never fall for him or any of his bullshit.

  Once we’re in the hallway, I yank my wrist out of his grasp and march down the hallway to the elevator. My finger jabs at the down button constantly as it takes its sweet time arriving at this floor. Max follows at a slower pace and reaches to take my hand off the button.

  “Don’t run from me.” His voice is quiet, waiting for me to talk or shout or scream at him, but I don’t have it in me. I’m not even sure i
f I’m mad at him for not telling me or mad at myself for thinking this could be anything more than chemistry.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” I whisper and feel tears of frustration or anger prick at the corners of my eyes.

  “I didn’t want you to be mad at me.”

  “I’m always mad at you.”

  “Not lately. When you first came back, it was like it always was but then you started to open up to me, and I didn’t want to ruin that. Then it got too late to tell you and now you know and you’re mad at me anyway.”

  “I’m not mad. I’m disappointed that you weren’t honest with me in the first place.” I wrap my arms around my body.

  “Your dad asked them to call me, said there’d been an accident. When I got there, I wanted to call you right away, but he made me promise not to. They told me to wait in the ER. They were sticking tubes in him, and I panicked. But he said he would phone you the next day.” His sincere expression cracks my resolve a tiny bit, but I’m still mad. Mad at my dad, mad at the Andersons, and now a little bit mad at Max, too. “I’m sorry.” Then he shuts up and faces the front.

  The elevator arrives and we stand in silence, the tension inside the cart unbearable. No one else gets in this time and thankfully the descent is quick. The ride back to the garage is silent, and I really don’t know what to say. I need time to process all that has happened this morning.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Beth’s Honda is parked outside when we get back from the hospital; Kyle’s Camaro is inside on the ramp. Both of them come out at the growl of Max’s GTO as he parks. I am out of the car and walking away before he’s even killed the engine. Beth and Aaron share a worried look as I walk over to them

  “How’d it go?” Aaron asks, wiping his hands on the rag in his pocket.

  “He owes Tom Anderson twenty-five grand.”

  “What? How the hell did that happen?”

  “That stupid race he was in. Well, that was the bet and because he didn’t win, he still owes him. Doesn’t matter that he crashed and ended up in the hospital.”