by Anne Hansen
He said more than he should have, and I feel more than I can afford to.
With that thought, I climb into the tiny interior as he starts the engine.
He fiddles with the shifter, peruses the gauges on the dash, and checks his mirrors. I put a hand out on his arm and the connection bursts between us like an electric spark. I wince and pull my hand back.
“Stop,” I say, my voice jittery. “Don’t look, don’t check. Take me for a ride I’ll never forget.” I let my voice go husky and watch his eyes pop wide open.
“You want it fast?” he asks. I can read the challenge in the line of his jaw and the tilt of his chin.
“This time, I want it so fast it takes my breath away.” I tug my bottom lip between my teeth, and the way his mouth goes slack lets me know his brain isn’t clouded with worries and plans.
He’s feeling this. I know it from the way his shoulders relax, his loose grip on the wheel, the confident way he pulls out and shifts, listening to the hum of the engine to determine how and when to modify the pressure he’s putting on the gas.
Just like that he lets out the clutch and drops the hammer. We fly across the pavement so fast, I feel my body lift off the seat and the wind whips my hair back. The smell of fuel and cold night air mixes and brings up so many perfect memories of my mother. A thrill explodes through me, and I let out a whoop just before Vin screeches to a stop.
We both pant in the quiet of the car. Vin smashes his palms on the wheel.
“Damn! Damn, that felt good.” He leans over, and it’s second nature for me to lean into him. Like two magnets, the pull between us is undeniable.
But I’m not remotely ready to get myself mixed up in all that raw attraction again. Just before our mouths brush, I put a hand on his chest and push him away.
“Good first run. Now quit being a little bitch and drive.”
“So you’re saying you want it again?” he asks, his eyes roving over my face.
“I do. But you need to hit it harder this time. Can you do that?”
“Can you take it hard?” he asks, the suggestion raw in his words.
“I love it hard.”
For the next hour, Vin flies over the strip of forgotten road, going faster each run until he makes my heart race and my breath catch. When he drives, I look up and out the window, and the stars seem to streak across the sky like they’re falling. Some part of my brain makes me want to wish on them, even though I know it’s just an optical illusion.
What’s a wish, except an illusion of the heart?
I wish for Vin’s future, for his success, for him to prove everyone wrong.
For him to prove me and my unsure, bruised heart wrong. Because I want to be the one who’s there for him when it all comes together.
I want us to be the checkered flag at the end of his race.
“What are you thinking?” Vin asks as we sit in silence, quietly confident that his mental block is gone.
I consider lying, mentioning school or my father or something about driving. But we’ve been through so much, and lying is exhausting. I decide I’m just going to be honest with him.
“I’m thinking about you and me.” I glance over at his profile.
“Good.” He pulls out and heads back on the highway. “I want you to keep thinking about us, Keira. Because I want you to be ready for me to get down on my knees and beg you to come back to me when I win this.” He looks over and shakes his head when I open my mouth. “Please, don’t say anything right now. I’m tired of telling you I’m trying or going to do whatever. I want you to be there, and I want you to watch me win. And I want you to know, I’m doing all of this for you. For us. For our future together. You’re the reason I’ve changed, the reason I keep getting back up no matter how many times life knocks me down. And I’m going to spend the rest of my life figuring out how to thank you for giving me the courage to do that.”
I sit completely still in the seat next to him, my heart hammering so hard, I’m half sure it’s going to break through my ribs. We make it all the way back to Louie’s before I say, “Stop. Right here. Stop.”
He brakes in the dark driveway that leads to the garage, and I lean over, cup his face in my hands and swallow hard before I kiss him, once, quickly, hot and urgent. I pull back before we get tangled into anything else.
“Win. Win for me. For us.”
I get out of the car and run to my truck. I wave to Red as I pull out, my mind and heart running laps I know will keep me up late into the night.
And I smile.
I smile so damn hard, my cheeks ache. I look up at the stars, bright in the sky, and that fat, silver moon that’s never let me down yet, and I wish.
“Let him win. Please, please, let him win.”
I sneak into the apartment and tiptoe to my room, relieved my father is already asleep. I curl into my bed, sleep catching me swiftly and pulling me into dreams about fast cars and a sexy, smiling boy with green eyes and rough hands that know how to touch me so softly, I wish they’d race over my skin all night and never, ever stop.
Leo and I pull up to the old service road. No one comes back here anymore since the bridge washed out in a flash flood a decade ago. The county had a new road built that didn’t take people directly through the swamplands, which everyone was happy about.
Though no one could have been happier than the local criminals. You don’t come back into the low, dark marshes unless you’re conducting business no decent person wants to get involved in. I have no doubt this area is pretty much a mass grave full of dumped, forgotten corpses. Drug deals are constant, and so are all kinds of other illicit activities.
Like this race tonight.
We rumble down the road, the engine purring like it never has before. Louie Marsal did things to it that have to qualify as magic. I can feel the power every time I depress the gas, and it runs hot and quick through my entire body, latching onto me with that sweet grip of hope I hate.
Why?
Hope is dangerous. Hope is what makes me believe I can change the unchangeable, and hope will be what turns me into a bitter asshole if I fail to change.
I pull up to a sawhorse that’s blocking one side of the road. The other side is populated with a few guys who easily total a metric ton of compressed muscle.
“Your fee.” A guy with a voice so deep it’s practically thunder holds an enormous hand out. He doesn’t bother to hide the fact that he’s packing heat.
Leo looks over, eyes bugged, as I pull the five thousand out of my coat and hand it over. The guy uses a UV light to scan the bills and then nods me through.
“Where the hell did you get five large?” Leo asks. “I thought the fee was twenty-five hundred?”
“They upped it at the last minute. Rumor is they were trying to weed out the racers who weren’t serious. They want this to be a big draw, not some kids’ game.” I grip the steering wheel hard, the full weight of what I’ve got to do now punching down on my shoulders and back. “I got the money from the Lombardis.”
“Lombardi?” I can see Leo flipping through his memory, trying to sort out why he’d know that name.
“We go to school with David Lombardi,” I say and wince when Leo’s sharp bark of a laugh comes through.
“The kid who’s in all the musicals and carries the cane and shit?” When he sees my face, he chokes back his next laugh. “That was cool of his family to lend you the money. I had no idea you were tight with them, man.”
“I didn’t realize it til a little while ago either,” I admit.
I’ll never forget the way Mr. Lombardi just held up a finger, stopping me in the middle of a long, rambling speech about how badly I needed the money and how I’d pay them back before I spent a dime on anything else, even my family.
Mr. Lombardi walked to a little office in the back of the house and came back with the money. “Don’t worry about repaying it. You come to me for anything you need, anytime. Please know we can never repay you for what you did for David. T
hank you for giving me the chance to help you out a little.”
I blink at the memory, still shocked. I guess I’m so used to getting turned down when I ask for things, or for having to resort to criminal means to get them, basic human generosity still floors me.
But I meant what I said. I’m winning this. For David and his family, for my dad and brother, for Keira—for every good, decent, hardworking person who’s been forced to put up with shit because this world isn’t fucking fair.
It’s about time someone tipped the scales the other way and scored a point for the underdog.
We pull up at the end of the strip, where pretty women wearing very little and holding clipboards give us numbers to put in our windows. They point us down a long row of cars, where we’ll line up and take the asphalt two at a time. Top ten advance to the second round, followed by the top five, then the top two.
“There’re a ton of people here,” Leo says, his voice filled with awe. “You got some stiff competition, bro.”
“Yeah,” I say, trying to keep my mind focused.
Somewhere in that sea of spectators, Red, Louie, and Keira are sitting, rooting for me. I asked them to stay out of my way before the first round of races because I didn’t want any possible distractions. I wanted to keep this run as clean as possible and my head on straight.
I have the car custom designed by Louie’s team.
I have the racing tips drilled into my head by Red.
I have the will to do this, bolstered by the confidence Keira has in me.
I can’t lose. I can’t.
“Will the following participants head to the starting line!” a pretty girl in a pink wig and what looks like a Catholic school uniform yells.
It’s not my number yet. Leo and I sit in tense silence, and I start thinking.
About Gio and the way he controls my dad.
About my brother and how exhausted he’s been.
About Keira. Will she love me if I lose everything I’ve fought so hard for? Will Gio even take me back if I ask? How will I manage this if I can’t—
If I can’t.
What if I can’t?
My thoughts start to riot, and I can feel myself losing it when the pink-wigged girl calls my number. Leo claps a hand on my back and climbs out to watch from the sidelines. I pull the car up to the starting line. The panic is so intense, it closes down my throat and makes me feel the acidic burn of bile on the back of my tongue.
Then I hear a tap on the glass, and I look up into the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen, the ones that have always made everything else in the world disappear when I’m looking into them. I roll the window down and she leans in, brushing her lips over mine as the pink-haired girl yells for us to pull to the starting line.
“You can do this, Vin.” She says it like it’s an indisputable fact. “Let go. Trust your gut. And know…I love you.”
My heart lurches in my chest. “Keira.” There are no three words I wanted to hear more, but I don’t want her to have said them because she thinks I need to hear them.
I want her to mean them.
“You don’t have to say—”
“I wouldn’t have said anything I didn’t mean.” She undoes the gold cross her mother gave her and clasps it around my neck. “For luck. Drive fast.”
She turns to leave. I grab her hand, and when she looks at me, I know I can do this for her. I’m not leaving myself any choice other than to do this for her.
“I love you. More than anything. This is for you.”
She catches her bottom lip between her teeth and smiles, then runs back to the stands.
I pull up to the starting line, the lights from the other cars bright in my peripherals. I can feel the ground vibrating from so many revved engines and the adrenaline starts to pump through my veins. I feel the old need to grab control, check gauges, adjust settings, evaluate where I am and what I’m doing.
But I don’t do any of that. I shut my eyes and think of her, the wind whipping past her body and blowing her dark hair all around her. I think of her in my bed, in my arms, always there in my life with her sweet smile and her faith in me. I let all that good come unlocked and pour through me.
And when the flag drops, the Mustang shoots out ahead of every other car. The shot is straight and true, and it’s like there’s no distinction between me and the car. I don’t have to think about when to shift, when to increase the gas, when to adjust the wheel the slightest bit; I just do what I need to do.
And, in a blip, a blink, I’m done.
A leaderboard is up and every numbered car gets a recorded time. I’m the second fastest yet, but there’s still another group to go. I pull at the side and get out on shaky legs.
Leo, Red, Louie are all waiting on the side to check the Mustang, but Keira runs at me and throws herself at me.
I wrap my arms around her and bury my face in her hair. “Damn, Keira, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to hold you in my arms again.”
She doesn’t answer, just grabs fistfuls of my shirt and jacket and pulls tighter.
I’m about to tell her more when I hear someone clearing his throat. I turn and there’s Dom and my father.
“Dom. Dad. What are you doing here?” I don’t like the looks on their faces.
“What are you doing here, Vin?” my father demands, pointing to my car, which Louie is checking thoroughly. “What is all this?”
“The purse is fifty large,” I say, tucking Keira under my arm and pulling her close to my side. “I just thought—”
“That I needed a bailout?” my father asks, his mouth pulled in a tight line.
I stand up straighter. “That we needed to get from under Gio’s thumb.”
My father sticks his hands—always a little dark from the engine oils that never wash away completely no matter how hard he scrubs—in his pockets. “So what’s the big plan?”
I shrug. “I race. I win.”
He looks around. “There’s a lot of speed on this track. How was your first time?”
I point to the leaderboard. “I’m number twenty-six.”
Dom and Dad crane to see, then look at each other, surprise on their faces.
Dom nods and points to the lineup. “Gio’s here.”
“What?” I swing my head around and see an ’01 Camaro I never noticed around the garage before. I wonder where he lifted it and who he’s got driving it. “Does he know I’m here?”
Dom shakes his head. “I don’t think so. Dad and I didn’t even know until I saw Leo.” Dom kicks at the pavement, silent for a few seconds before he looks up at me, disappointment all over his face. “Why the hell didn’t you tell us about this, Vin? We could’ve helped.”
“We couldn’t have done anything as fancy as Louie Marsal,” Dad bites out, looking over at Louie, who’s totally focused on the car.
Keira rubs her hand on my back, silently letting me know she’s right here if I need her. That one little gesture builds me up like nothing else could.
“I knew you guys had enough on your plate as it was. I wasn’t about to ask for more of your time. We’re all working for the same goal, Dad. We’re all trying to get the same thing done.”
My father nods, and I notice again how much older he’s looked the last few months since Gio’s been crushing down on him. “We are, Vin. Problem is, we’re never working together for anything. That’s gotta stop. Now.”
“It’s a deal.” I stick my hand out, but my father bypasses it and grabs me in for a hard, tight hug.
“You can do this, son. I know you can.”
“I will, Dad.”
I have to. I pull Keira into my arms, kiss the top of her head, and we both stare at the leaderboard. I’ve dropped one spot. My time is third fastest, but that qualifies me for the second round, and if I can make it through, there’s only one more.
The winning round.
The pink-haired girl is jumping in the middle of the track with a megaphone, calling us all in. My father and Dom
clap my on the back. Leo, Red, and Louie do the same once I get to the car.
“A kiss for good luck?” I ask Keira.
She grabs me by the sides of my jacket and tugs down, kissing me hard on the mouth.
“Hard, fast,” she reminds me, and her smile lets me know she’s well aware of the way her words make my blood run hot.
I climb into the car and pull up. This time, it’s easier to take myself where I need to go. I focus on the line at the end of the track and know I need to fly if I’m going to get there ahead of the other cars, the faster cars.
They may be faster, but they don’t want this like I do.
I adjust the shifter, rev the engine, feel the power pool through me.
They don’t need this like I do.
I glance from side to side out the windows, but I don’t see the cars. I look up and see the stars, dim in the clouded night sky. I’m in the interior, windows rolled up tight, but I swear I can feel the wind blowing at my back, urging me ahead of every other car.
And then the flag falls, and I fly. The car feels like it’s not even making contact with the road, like I just shoot a straight shot to that line, and when it’s done, the fastest time on the board is mine.
I get out to my friends and family cheering around me, but Gio is there too, and he doesn’t look happy at all.
“So, you’re in this race? Where the fuck did you come up with five grand for this? Because if I find out you stole from my shop, so help me God, you’ll be hurting for it.”
My uncle jumps right up in my face, and, with all the adrenaline coursing through my body after that race, I’m not sure I can keep from driving a fist right into his.
But I don’t need to worry about fighting this fight. I get pushed back behind my father like he used to do when we were kids and there was something dangerous he was going to stand up to and protect us from.
I was just thinking that my father looked older and more tired than ever, but that’s all gone. I swear my dad grew three inches and is reared up like a cobra about to strike.
“Now you pushed it too far, Gio,” Dad growls. “That’s my son you’re talking to. You’re the one who made him into a thief, but he’s never stolen from this family. You got something to say about him, you say it to me.” My father thumps his fist on his chest.
