Congratulations come at me from all sides, and everyone gets a fist bump or a high five. Smiling faces, some I recognize, and some I don’t, gather around me. Most people wear Team Loco shirts, and a couple people are from the breast cancer charity. I smile and thank everyone, wishing Keanna was here to jump into my arms like old times and tell me I’m awesome. She’s the best part of the finish line.
Instead, the bright beam of a camera light appears in my face, followed by a woman dressed in some kind of shiny hot pink sequin suit that looks like it was made for Broadway, not a dirt bike track.
“Jett Adams, son of the famous Jace Adams,” the woman says, beaming at me while holding one of those tiny Bluetooth microphones in her fingers. It used to kind of bother me when people only talked about me as Jace’s son, instead of being my own person. Now it doesn’t matter so much. I’m cool with it because my dad kicks ass and I’m proud to be his son.
“Howdy,” I say, immediately feeling like an idiot. Howdy? Who says that? Sure, it’s a Texas stereotype word, but no one actually says that around my hometown. Guess I’m still good at racing but I’ve totally lost my ability to talk to the press like a normal person.
“How’s it feel to be back with Team Loco, if only for one weekend?” the woman asks.
“Feels really good,” I say, wiping sweat off my brows. Marcus hands me a bottle of water and I take a huge drink of it. In the distance, I see my face on the giant screen hanging from the roof of this stadium.
“Seems like you haven’t lost a bit of that talent,” she says, playfully smacking my arm.
“Yeah, well I haven’t been sitting around doing nothing,” I say, taking another drink. “I ride every day at The Track. Lawson, Texas,” I say, winking to the camera. “Stop by and see us sometime.”
“This is a charity race supporting breast cancer,” the woman says. “Are you racing for anyone in particular?”
“My mother-in-law,” I say, trying not to look at myself on the giant screen. It’s unnerving seeing myself, and the three-second delay makes it even weirder. “She’s a cancer survivor.”
“Aww, that’s so sweet!” Her voice gets all high-pitched and she bounces on her toes a bit. “You always were such a charmer.”
“I’m not trying to be,” I say, wondering if I’m totally botching this entire interview. “Breast cancer is a big deal, and I’m happy to support awareness any chance I can.”
“So,” she says slowly, batting her eyelashes at me. She knows I’m a married man, so it’s uncomfortable to feel like she’s flirting with me. She grins even wider. “Can you answer the question we’re all thinking? Is this Jett Adams’ big comeback?”
“Hell yeah it is!”
The voice that speaks isn’t mine. It’s Marcus, clapping a hand on my shoulder and cheesing at the camera. “I’m the one who talked Jett into coming back tonight, and I think we all can tell he’s here to stay.”
Chapter 3
Keanna
Harper shrieks. “Daddy’s not coming home?!”
She turns to me, eyes wide and quickly filling with tears. We’ve just watched the same thing on live television. I’m not crying like my kid is, but I am a little panicky. Is he really back for good?
Jett didn’t say that, Marcus did. Maybe he’s just being dumb. Or maybe my husband plans on returning to the life of fame and travel and they’ve already talked about it but he hasn’t told me.
“Nothing to worry about,” my friend Maya says, touching a soft hand to Harper’s cheek. “That’s just a joke.”
I’m so glad we came to her house to watch this race, otherwise I’d be all alone and freaking out right now.
She looks up at me and we share a silent, concerned look. I know we’re both thinking the same thing, but now isn’t the time to talk about it. We have a four year old to calm down.
“Yep, just a joke!” I say in my happy upbeat mom voice. “Things on TV aren’t always real, remember?”
I feel terrible if I’m accidentally lying to my daughter, but this information is something her dad should tell her—if it’s true. Jett’s best friend D’andre returns from his kitchen with a tray refilled with snacks, three more sodas and one juice box. He sits on the couch and cracks open the soda can. “Did I miss anything good?”
“Nope,” Maya and I say at the same time. The TV has gone to a commercial break now, and Harper is thrilled to discover that D’andre found more cinnamon Teddy Grahams in his pantry, so her tears have stopped. For now.
“That was awesome seeing my bro race again,” D’andre says, kicking back on the couch and throwing an arm around his wife. “Reminds me of the old days.”
“He still races now,” I say, referring to the fun hometown races we host at The Track for amateur racers. It’s not professional, and it’s in front of a small set of bleachers, not a massive indoor stadium, but it’s still a race.
“Yeah, but that’s not the same,” he says. “Jett looks good out there.”
“Well, it’s getting late so we should head home.” I stand up, stretching out my limbs and wishing I should shake off the stress of tonight. Until I get to talk to Jett, I have no idea if it’s true that he wants to go back to racing full time. And as long as I don’t know anything, I can keep telling myself it’s not true.
