Page 49 of First in Line

I shrug. “I’ve won all five races so far this season. I have no reason to think this will go any differently.”

“Are you trying to become the first driver to win all twenty-four trophies in a season?”

“I’m not sure that can be done. But I’ll be damned if I don’t try.”

“Well, if anyone can do it, it’s you, Jax.”

The waitress returns with our milkshakes, then disappears again.

“You were always my most fervent supporter,” I tell Evie. “You’ve believed in me from the start. You never doubted that I could accomplish my dreams.”

“And you have yet to prove me wrong.”

We talk about the Miami Grand Prix for a moment, then the girl comes back with no less than thirteen plates of desserts. Pies, cheesecakes, waffles, cakes… We’ll never finish all this, but then again, we never managed to in the past either. We used to ask to have it wrapped up, and Evie would go home with the leftovers, delighted by the prospect of having desserts for the whole week.

“Aren’t athletes like you on a very strict diet?” she wonders as we dig in.

“Yes, especially since I’m already heavier than most F1 drivers. But again, I’ve won every race so far this season, I think they can cut me some slack.”

We try small bites of everything first, sharing our thoughts and comparing these new versions to the memories we had of them. Everything tastes sweeter than I remembered, but that makes sense since I’m eating far less sugar now.

Evie doesn’t seem to feel the same, going after her old favorites with her usual enthusiasm.

This moment we share is everything. Like a glimpse into our lives if she hadn’t walked away. We could have been doing this the whole time, returning to this shitty diner now and then, sharing desserts, talking…

Instead, we’ve had seven years of emptiness. Nearly a decade of wasted potential.

“Did you sign it?” I ask randomly.

She immediately understands what I’m talking about, and her relaxed expression turns pensive. With a hand in front of her mouth, she finishes chewing, swallows, and meets my eyes.

“I did.”

“Why didn’t my lawyers tell me?”

“Because mine doesn’t have it yet, so it hasn’t been officially filed.”

“Why?”

“Again, my life is busier than it looks, Jackson.”

“You could have gone today.”

“No, I had to visit my mom.”

I lean back into the booth. “How’s Ms. G doing?”

“Good. Really good, actually. She stopped drinking four years ago.”

“Really?”

“Yes. I’ve been helping her, supporting her to make sure she stays sober.”

“That’s great. I never thought I’d live to see the day.”

“Me neither. But she’s doing much better. She has a job in one of the shops in town. And she lives in a proper house—near where yours was, actually. Are your parents still there?”

“No. I bought them a house in the Denver suburbs.”