Page 20 of Heartbreaker

“Right now, my only goal is to kick your ass.”

“Mmm, good luck with that,” I say.

“I don’t think I need luck. I’ve got skill,” she says. It’s a slow, languid tipping of her full, pink lips, the look filled with challenge and easy friendship, and it sets me off balance in a way I can’t quite pinpoint. Before I can decode it, though, a firework explodes in the distance, and Lana gasps. Soon, more appear, seemingly from the neighboring baseball stadium, and we watch the show in comfortable silence.

The entire time we’re up there, her hand stays in mine.

ELEVEN

“Fuck yeah!” I yell as I step off the track the following weekend, punching the air excitedly. “Fuck yeah!”

I didn’t just win, but won by leaps and bounds, impressing both the audience and the judges, who gave me high scores across the board. It was the first time I landed a backflip since the crash, another trick I’d been avoiding, and it felt good.

Really fucking good.

With one last look at the scores, I grin at the standings. Oliver came in second, Tyler is in third, but the real shocker of the night is that Lana came in fourth, beating out some veteran drivers.

It’s not that I didn't think she had it in her; I’ve seen her in practice and know she can drive a truck. It's clear that, despite her lack of experience, she could easily dominate. Her growth has happened so unexpectedly fast, and her confidence has grown in the span of a single week.

I give the cheering crowd one last wave before following the other drivers into the hallway out of the arena, and straight toward the locker rooms.

I’m light as air, feeling more upbeat than I have in weeks. I take a quick shower, hiding my clothes so I don’t have another incident, before heading to the press room. Once there, I sit next to Lana, trading my name placard with Jordan’s. Strangely, the woman has become my one friend on the circuit, though I’m sure she would say friend was a very strong statement.

“Good show, pretty boy,” she says as I settle in. “Nice to see you’re actually wearing clothes today.”

“You don't have to lie, Lana. We both know you enjoyed seeing me naked.” Her cheeks bloom a pretty pink, and when it creeps down her neck, I can’t help but wonder how far it goes. I knock that thought out as fast as it came, trying to center myself. “You did well, too, looking pretty good.”

“Gotta keep you boys on your toes,” she says, her sass burning off the embarrassment, though I don’t know which one I like better.

“How do you feel?”

“Damn good. Next step is kicking your ass,” she says with a wide, genuine grin.

“Keep dreaming, heartbreaker.” She opens her mouth to argue, but the press starts to enter the room, and she settles in, her mask locking into place. I’m doing the same, letting the casual look of indifference cross my face as I sit back in my chair, when I spot someone familiar in the crowd, grinning at me.

My dad.

My dad is here.

My stomach seizes. I didn’t know he would be here or that he was attending the race, and I’m unsure how to feel about it. Thankfully, I’m distracted with a few questions about my performance. I’m grateful when questions about my reputation or the crash are avoided, and the conversation ends relatively quickly before we head back to the greenroom. Since Dad is both a family member and a business partner of Phil’s, I’m not surprised to see him walk in soon after.

“Great job, kid,” he says, putting an arm around my shoulder. Nostalgia hits with the words, bringing me back for a moment, reminding me of long days out on the track, winning a race, or even the early days at Monster Smash when he’d often be in the stands cheering me on.

Those days were easier, when it was just me and racing, with none of the other complications.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, still preening under the praise like some kid. His grin is wide as he looks at me.

“We’re at the track thirty minutes from here,” he says, and my gut twists. I’ve avoided all news about Indy since the suspension, once I realized it put me in a shit mood. I’m sure if I’d been paying attention, I’d have realized the overlap. “And we had nothing on tonight. I thought it would be fun if we made a day out of it, came to see you.”

“We?” I ask, confused. But the confusion evaporates when Levi Grund’s grinning face moves to stand beside my dad.

My smile melts off, as does the warmth I previously felt.

It’s not that I dislike Levi, but he’s the DeLuca team member I am most often compared to, the one I often compete against, and the one with whom there is a long and bitter rivalry.

It’s that I fucking hate him.

“You looked real cute out there, DeLuca,” he says. “Doing your little tricks in your giant sheep and whatnot.” I try not to take the bait, though it takes an incredible amount of self-restraint. Instead, I turn to my dad.