Page 71 of Promise

You left lingers unspoken between us.

“Anyway,” Trinity clears her throat.

“Isn’t he married?” I squint in their direction.

“Moved with his wife and kids. His sister, Prudence, works with Tate.”

Prudence. I couldn’t place the name.

“And you aren’t being replaced,” she clarifies, bumping my arm with her shoulder. “He’s just hurt.” Her gaze follows mine, watching Tate and Pete speak animatedly with one another.

“Yeah.” I gulp down the lie about replacement and accept the sting. While Marshall, Hutch, and Petty all offered sympathetic ears and listened to me, Tate has refused to talk to me. That hurt me.

I wanted my friend to understand that my leaving wasn’t about his sister. Not directly. It was about me, but then again, I don’t think Tate can understand. He came from a loving family. He had a place in it. Despite his own trials, living in the shadow of Cortland’s success, Tate was important in his own right.

I’d failed all of them.

As we wander from booth to booth, making our way toward the end of River Street, where a giant grill is set up outside Dockside, a bar and restaurant on the corner of River and Dock, we encounter the rest of Trinity’s family.

Cortland Haven is tall and solid like Tate. He’s also graying at the temples and in his beard, and he has his arm slung over Vale Sylver’s shoulder.

Clint stands near the couple. His hair still has a light auburn cast, cut short and stylish, making him look younger than he is. He swings hands with a little girl who has bright red curls.

Ruby James. How did she get so big?

“Hey, guys,” Trinity greets everyone.

Vale steps forward first to hug Trinity while I stand there wondering when Vale and Cortland happened. The last I knew, Cortland was the ex-best friend of Vale’s older brother. The story behind their friendship split is messy, yet Vale and Trin have a truce despite the Haven and Sylver families drifting apart. Cortland and Vale are clearly a new development.

After Cort and Clint each hug Trinity, they shake my hand, questions in both of their eyes.

“How you been?” Clint asks.

“You’re back,” Cort states, not so much a question but confirmation.

“Good. Yeah.” Not the most elaborate answers.

I glance at Trinity, who offers me a concerned smile. We knew these moments would happen. Seeing Mary and Tate, Cortland and Clint, still, the awkwardness is more than I anticipated. These men had been my bosses, my brothers, and I don’t know what more to say to them.

“Are you just on a break from the circuit, or . . .” Clint hesitates, glancing from his older brother to his sister before looking at me.

“I’m retired.” Is that what I am? Officially retired from racing cars? A driver with one of the shortest careers ever?

Trinity’s breath hitches, surprised at first, but then her jaw tightens.

She hasn’t asked me much about the circuit, and I haven’t offered. We have more important things to discuss.

“Plus, we have this little one to consider.” I nod toward Mirabelle as I slide my hand up Trinity’s back. I’ve been touching her all day, but she suddenly stiffens under the scrutiny of her family. I remove my hand and cup the back of my own neck.

“How is she?” Vale coos, stepping closer to the stroller to peek at Mirabelle.

Cortland eyes me suspiciously. “Are you working?”

The question shocks me, and I don’t immediately respond.

“You’ll always have a job with us,” Clint states.

“Thanks, man.” My appreciation sounds half-hearted, as I’m too quick to respond. But if I read deeper into the offering, this is acceptance. They’ll take me back into the fold. The job would mean stability and inclusion. But it would also feel like one more failure. Turning back the clock. I don’t want to go back to construction. I want to do my own thing, even if I don’t know yet what that is.