Page 19 of Heartbreaker

Someone else.

Someone no one gets, not anymore.

“What happened there?” she asks. “With you and Tyler. You two used to be friends, right?” I sigh and nod before taking a long sip of my beer, weighing what I want to say, and she lets me have that time. I like it, how she doesn’t push, doesn’t get annoyed when I go quiet, and I think that’s why I feel pulled to open up.

“We started in Monster Smash at the same time. I was eighteen, he was twenty, and we got close quickly, being the rookies. You know how it is, everyone questioning you, everyone doubting you.” She nods, giving me a soft smile and a squeeze of her hand still in mine before I continue. “We got close. I told him about my plan to go into Indy when I was twenty-two. My dad…” I hesitate, not liking to bring this up, to remind people that I have ties to the industry that could change the way they see me, but I do it anyway. “My dad owns the transport company for Monster Smash, and he’s part-owner of DeLuca Racing, the team I drive for—” I hesitate, then correct myself, that knife twisting in my gut as I do. “Drove for. I always wanted to drive for his team, but he wanted me to go to college. Told me if I tried out before I was twenty-two, he’d blacklist me, and I knew he meant it. He also blacklisted me from every other racing circuit I could find. He really wanted me to go to college to get a degree, but all I wanted was to race.”

“Stubborn,” she says, a small smile on her lips that I return.

“A bit. So I found a loophole. He never said I had to go to college, and he didn’t blacklist me from Monster Smash. It was an easy transition since I drove trucks, four-wheelers, and dirt bikes when I wasn’t racing.”

“Anything with an engine, huh?”

I smile fondly. “Exactly. An adrenaline junkie from a young age.”

“I get it. Relatable.” I like that, knowing she understands the addiction to endorphins, to that feeling of being in a fast vehicle, probably too fast, of being in control—but only just barely.

“Tyler and I planned to try out at the same time, leave Monster Smash together. But when the time came, I got in, and he didn’t.” She cringes.

“That had to hurt.” I lift my shoulder and take a sip of my beer, looking ahead at the almost-set sun, trying not to show her how much it still weighs on me.

“He thinks it’s because of who my dad is that I got in, that I’m some nepo baby who was given my spot. It was a blind tryout, though. No one knew who I was. I made sure of it.” I try to keep my tone light and not seem too affected by it, even if that assumption has ruled the last five years of my career.

“How do you feel about that?” she asks, and I turn to her, confusion moving through me. “About people thinking you didn’t earn your place?”

“What does it matter? I’m the cocky bad boy. Other people’s opinions don’t matter.”

“I still don’t buy that,” she says, and with her words, my pulse picks up. “I think it’s all bullshit. I think you want people to think you’re some playboy, this bad boy. I think you’re comfortable being an asshole.”

“You’d know about masks, I suppose,” I say, trying to divert attention, not liking the way it’s targeted at me, or the way it’s hitting dead on.

“Would I?” she asks, and relief moves through me, knowing I can shift the focus.

“Yeah. I mean, what was that the other day with your brothers?”

“What was what?”

“You were weird with them.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. I’m used to this version of you. Sassy, a little bratty, arguing and questioning everything. Not backing down. But there…you were another person.”

“You don’t think you know me enough to know if I’m different,” she says, words suddenly stiff.

“I know you well enough to know you don’t take shit from anyone, and you’ve got a backbone made of steel. But they showed up, and it was missing. You were suddenly fine with them saying you couldn’t win because you were a girl—that you weren’t a real driver compared to me. It was bizarre.” I think she’s going to argue with me, to tell me I’m wrong as she looks off into the distance. But instead, she gets quiet. As she did for me, I give her space, letting my thumb graze the back of her hand as I wait. After a while, she lets out a sigh.

“They just… they’re my brothers. Sometimes when I’m around them, I turn back into the little girl I used to be, trying to impress them and get them to like me.”

“By making yourself smaller?”

“I guess. It’s an old habit I’ve held on to. But you sticking up for me helped. They were a lot cooler at dinner after the race, like they remembered I’m not their kid sister anymore.”

“I’m sure kicking ass on the track helped,” I say, and she lets out a small laugh, too self-deprecating for my liking.

“I wouldn’t say I kicked ass, but I am getting better.”

“You are. As I said, if you keep going, you’re going to win big. I know it.” She turns to me with an easy smile back on her lips, now that we’re past my picking at her weak spots.