Page 9 of First in Line

I almost smile but hold back. “Still, you should think it over. I do owe you some of my success, so it makes sense for you to get your share of it. You could even buy yourself a better engagement ring.”

She lets out a shocked chuckle. “You know, I’ve heard rumors about you being the most hated driver in the Formula world, the black sheep. They say you’re ana-hole, ad-head. But I thought they were wrong because I know you, and you were the sweetest boy I’d ever met. But I guess they were right, and I don’t know you anymore, Jackson.”

“I guess you don’t, no. It’s been seven years, after all…”

For the first time since our reunion, she seems… hurt. As if the thought of not knowing me anymore is too much to bear. Or maybe it’s seeing that the boy she once loved is gone. He died the day she left, replaced by a cynical daredevil who drives like he has nothing to lose.

Because I don’t. I haven’t for a while now.

Neither of us says anything as she walks back to the elevator. I don’t even get up, watching her from afar as she waits for it to arrive. Once it does, she gives me a last look over her shoulder.

“Take care of yourself, Jax,” she says before stepping in.

Our eyes remain locked until the doors close, plunging me back into silent solitude.

The day I received the divorce papers, months ago, I decided I wouldn’t answer until she asked in person. So, I knew I’d see her again. I’ve been preparing myself for it for months. Hell, I’ve been hoping to see her for years. Still, I wasn’t ready for it.

I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the day I’d see my wife again.

But all things considered, I’d say I handled it rather well. I was only a little bit of an “a-hole.”

Can’t believe she still doesn’t curse…

CHAPTER

THREE

Evangeline

“Okay, this is the clutch,” Jax explains as I sit in the driver’s seat, halfway bent through the door to show me. “Brakes, the most important one. And the gas. You need to keep the clutch down to switch gears.”

“Why don’t you have an automatic?” I wonder with a pout, aware that learning would be so much simpler with one.

It’s been over three weeks since he came to the diner for the first time, and we’ve hung out almost every day since. I like being around him much more than I expected, and this summer is turning out to be a lot of fun. Yes, I have to work at the diner almost every day, but when I’m not, Jax is around, and we have fun.

“A race car can’t be automatic,” he explains like it’s a well-known fact.

“Why?”

“Because a good driver has to optimize what gear to shift at what time for better acceleration and control.”

“Where did you learn all that?”

“My brother taught me how to drive when I was nine, and I don’t know, I’ve been practicing since.”

“Nine?!”

“My feet couldn’t reach the pedals, and I couldn’t see through the windshield. I had to sit on a box, and he taped some shit to the pedals so I could press on them.”

“It sounds dangerous. And illegal.”

“It was. But if I could learn at nine, I think you can learn at fifteen, princess.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“And I will when you stop smiling every time I say it.”

“Then I’ll start calling you Hot Wheels.”