Page 7 of Riding the Curve

Emotion thickens in my throat—only a whisper manages to pass through. “Thank you.” Silence falls between us once more, both of us struggling to find the words to say.

“Do you need me to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll rent a car.”

“You sure? That’s a lot of driving after such a long flight.” Concern laces through his words.

“You know I like driving.”

His deep chuckle cracks through the wall of tightness in my chest. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? Looking forward to seeing you soon, son.”

“Me, too.”

Perhaps this suspension is what I need to remind myself why I fell in love with racing in the first place. A chance to remind myself of who I am again. Because at this moment, I don’t recognize myself anymore.

CHAPTER 3

Henley

After the attendant scans my ticket, I trudge down the jet bridge. The little bit of money I’ve been saving paid off this morning. Somehow, I managed to get myself a nonstop flight, so I splurged and upgraded to first class. This girl needs a drink after the shitty events of the past few hours—I don’t care what time of the morning it is.

Just a few inches from the door, my carry-on decides to give out and one of the wheels breaks off. It rolls down the jet bridge behind me. There are far too many people to go chase after it, and I’m already getting several disgruntled looks for holding everyone up. Snarling inwardly, I lift the heavy abomination into my arms. It may be a carry-on, but it is stuffed to the brim with as many of my prized possessions that I could shove into it. There’s no way I’m leaving it behind.

Sweat beads down the back of my neck as I give the flight attendant a tight-lipped smile as I pass. Wide eyes linger over me for what feels like a minute before she finally welcomes me aboard with a pearly fake smile.

“6B. . . 6B,” I chant silently to myself as I walk down the aisle. All I need to do is make it to my seat, then I can breathe.

The closer I edge to my seat, the less constricted my chest feels. Movement catches my eye in front of me, and my gaze slowly glides to the man occupying the seat beside mine. The black hood of his thick sweatshirt conceals most of his face as he bends over to rummage through his backpack on the floor. That didn’t stop my wandering eyes finding the hint of a chiseled jaw and a short-trimmed beard shadowing against the bronzed skin of its owner.

Suddenly, my body feels a hundred degrees warmer, and the tingling sensations that glide through my body startle me. Apparently, it’s been a while since I’ve truly been attracted to someone else.

Desperate for a distraction, I lift my tank of a carry-on with a grunt into the overhead storage. However, it stops short. Growling loudly, I keep sliding and pushing it to make it fit inside.

“Ma’am . . .” The attendant’s stern voice echoes down the aisle as she storms toward me.

Shove.

“Ma’am, we are going to need to check that bag⁠—”

“No!” I shove harder with another grunt. “I’ll⁠—”

Shove.

“Make it⁠—”

Shove. Slap. Shove.

“Fit!” I growl, giving it one more triumphant push. When it doesn’t budge, I smirk back at the flight attendant. She dismisses me with a roll of her eyes, returning to the front of the plane to welcome guests.

“Henley?”

A familiar voice sends a shiver down my spine. The deep timbre draws my vision back to the seats in front of me. The hood no longer covers the man’s face. My breath hitches. Sky blue eyes stare back at me, as plush, pink lips—that I once had a chance to taste—gape wide open.

“Emers—” is all I’m able to say to my brother’s best friend before the demon spawn of a suitcase collides into my head.

Embarrassment burns my cheeks. Quite the juxtaposition to the sub-zero ice pack that I’m holding against my throbbing forehead. Damn suitcase.

Hundreds of eyes glare at me as I sit on the jump seat at the front of the plane. A doctor looks me over, making sure I don’t have a concussion . . . or a broken nose. My little incident caused our departure to be delayed. I’m not exactly everyone’s favorite person at the moment.