I’d won. I had the victory and the satisfaction of seeing his headlights disappear in my mirror. But as I watched Luka—steady and uncomplicated—the ache in my chest only widened.
Dominic had been right. We weren't friends. I’d spat the agreeance back at him like a curse, matching his venom with my own just to see if I could make him hurt. I’d wanted to win the argument.
So why did saying it feel like I was the one losing blood? Why did the truth feel like such a lie the moment it left my mouth?
I leaned my head back against the seat, the adrenaline fading into a dull, heavy throb behind my eyes. I’d spent the last several minutes trying to prove I didn't care, that he was just another driver on a different line. But as I sat here, I realized the win didn't taste like I thought it would.
I didn't want to love him, and I certainly didn't want to save him. I just didn't understand why, out of everyone on this beach, the one person I couldn't stand was the only one who could make the world feel quiet enough to breathe.
I had the trophy, but as I looked at the empty dunes, all I felt was the cold.
Chapter fifteen
Carter
“Wait, why are we stopping?”
I leaned forward between the two front seats of the truck, squinting through the windshield. The familiar brick buildings of campus were bathed in a strange, artificial glow that definitely hadn't been there when I’d finished my morning classes.
Then again, I could have missed a literal alien invasion today. I’d spent more hours than I should’ve vibrating with a very specific brand of irritation, thanks to a series of cryptic texts from an unsaved number. I didn’t need a contact name to know it was Dominic. His ego has a very distinct digital footprint.
At least, I was ninety percent sure it was him. Or maybe eighty. I scowled at the darkened screen of my phone before shoving it into my pocket and choosing to ignore the messages.
“I thought the plan was food and then home,” I said, looking from my dad to Marco. “We just finished at SHIFT. You got your burger, you saw that the grease trap at my work is still making that dying-whale sound, and now we should be on the highway. Why are we at the quad? There isn't even parking here.”
My dad didn’t answer. Instead, he developed a sudden, pathological interest in a speck of dust on the dashboard. His hand reached up to scratch nervously at his temple, and he went completely non-verbal—the universal sign that he was bracing for impact.
I sat back, my eyes narrowing as I took in the valets and the heavy velvet ropes cutting through the center of campus. “What is this?”
“I told him the burger wouldn't buy us enough time,” Marco said from the driver’s seat. He didn't look guilty; he looked like someone watching a slow-motion car crash for the entertainment value. He tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel. “Your dad didn’t think you’d come if you knew the destination.”
“So you trapped me?” I slumped back into the bench seat, crossing my arms with enough force to probably crack my own ribs. “You used a double-bacon-cheeseburger as bait? That’s low. Even for you two.”
“I really did want the burger,” my dad muttered, his voice barely rising above the hum of the engine. “And I did want to see the booth you’re always complaining about... but there’s this thing. For the circuit. On campus tonight.”
“Unbelievable.” I groaned, staring at the back of his head. I looked out the window again at the massive transport trucks and the familiar, sleek branding of the Formula series that had taken over the quad. It looked like a miniature paddock had sprouted overnight on campus.
“I bet you didn’t even mind the delay at the diner because you were too busy flirting with Margaret at the register,” I added, my voice dry. “I saw that, by the way. Twenty minutes of my life I’ll never get back. It was tragic, Dad. Truly.”
Marco let out a sharp, delighted bark of a laugh. “See? I told you she was onto you. You can’t distract her with grease and salt when there’s a professional racing grid being assembled in her backyard.”
My dad’s ears went a vibrant shade of pink. He finally turned around, his expression a messy cocktail of apology and "please don't yell at me."
I shot myself back up, bracing my hands on the headrests to loom between them. “Start talking. Both of you. Why is there a high-society circus in the middle of my university?”
“Mandatory team appearance,” Marco answered, shifting into his mentor voice, his eyes fixed on the rearview mirror. “The team is calling it a 'strategic outreach' event. We’re here to look the part, shake the right hands, and act like the season is going exactly as planned. The whole grid is expected to show—no exceptions.”
I looked at my dad, my eyebrows nearly hitting my hairline. I knew exactly what ‘the whole grid’ meant. It meant Dominic Valerio.
“And you thought following him into another spotlight was a good idea?” I asked, my voice dropping. “After the last event? After he stood there and let those vultures treat you like a liability?”
“It’s professional, Carter,” my dad said softly. He reached out as if to pat my hand, then thought better of it when he saw the look on my face. “We have to show a united front. He’s... he’s the lead driver. If he’s there, we’re there. He’s making an effort to show the team together.”
“He’s making a scene,” I corrected, my chest tightening.
I looked at my dad— at the way his mouth flattened into that familiar line of quiet endurance—and I felt a surge of old, bitter anger. He was doing it again. Rolling over. Making excuses for someone who had already shown him exactly who they were.
He’d done the same with my mom—letting her back through the door time and time again because he was terrified of the silence she left behind. Now, he was doing it with Dominic. He was so desperate to feel the vibration of a track under his feet again that he’d overlook the fact that Dominic had fed him to the wolves before.
