Page 100 of Promise

Pride clutches in my chest, knowing what position I came in that first race. Not first place, but high enough to garner notice. To keep Velocity interested and move me up in their roster.

I get lost in the memories, watching another race, and another, until I no longer know what time it is.

When the whirl of the front door unlocking happens, I pause the race and shift on the couch. The house is mainly dark, other than the illumination from the television.

Trinity seems to fumble, tripping over something. “Oopsie.”

I smile, rub my hands down my sweatpants, and stand.

She enters my view through the archway to the entry, and then stumbles to a stop, facing me. Holding up a hand, pointing a finger in the air, she says, “I need water.” She turns toward the kitchen, and I hear the faucet turn on and water gush from it. A cabinet door gently slams shut.

Trinity reappears through the kitchen entrance to the dining room, rounds the table, and stands at the end of it, facing me. The couch is between us.

“You doin’ okay?” I ask, chuckling softly. Trin can hold her own with a drink.

“Yeah.” She pauses, chugs some water, and lets out a sigh as she pulls her lips from the glass. “Just thirsty.”

“Have a good time?”

“My friends are the best.” She leans back against the table and takes another long pull of her water.

“How was Mirabelle?” she asks after quenching her thirst.

“Perfect.” Just like her momma.

Trin nods and turns her head in the direction of the television. I’d paused the screen, so my car is front and center, frozen on the track.

“Oopsie,” she whispers again, before looking back at me.

“You watched me.” For some reason, I’m aware of the slow rhythm of my heartbeat. The stance of my feet on the rug. And the distance between Trin and me. “Why?”

She chews her lower lip, staring at that screen. “I just wanted to understand.”

Next thing I know, my foot is on the seat of the couch, and I’m catapulting over it. My heart racing faster than my cars ever did. I move so quickly that she flinches backward, bumping into the dining room table and giggling.

“Ask me anything, Trinity.” I pause in front of her. “I’ll tell you everything. Anything you want to know.”

“Always wondered what was more appealing about it. More appealing than me.” She lowers her head, staring into her glass like water is the most interesting thing in the world.

“Trin,” I sigh, stepping closer to her, tipping up her head by her chin. “Nothing is more appealing than you. Nothing.”

“But you needed it more than me,” she says, holding my gaze a second before looking over my shoulder at the screen again.

“I didn’t . . . I just . . . I wanted control in my life. Maybe barreling down a strip of asphalt at a hundred-ninety miles an hour wasn’t the best example of control, but I needed something.” I wave down my body. “Something to get out the energy, and the nerves. And the failure,” I finish quietly.

“A hundred and ninety.” Her eyes widen, almost comically. The brown is deep and dark in the low light of the room.

I smile because she’s so cute. She’s still wearing my hat, the ends of her hair damp from dancing, and I catch a few strands between my fingers.

“You know I’ve always loved racing, baby. Letting off steam that way.” I sigh. “Maybe it seemed silly thinking a man at forty could start a new career. Join such an elite league.”

Might have been silly to entertain the idea of something more professional than an old canyon and a dirt track. There were guys who’d been racing their entire lives. Guys with legacy in the sport. And then, there I was, forty-one-years old. Racing made me feel alive.

“I just didn’t want to be a failure anymore.”

“You”—Trinity jabs her finger toward me—“are Dart Rivers, and you are not a failure.”

I chuckle at the ferocity in her tone. “How much have you had to drink tonight, baby?”