Page 29 of Fueled Fury

18

Lainey

“Do you see him?” Hannah asks, yelling over the music as she scans the packed field.

“Yes.” Of course I see him. He’s the only thing I can see because he keeps me knotted inside, spinning to figure out what the hell is going on with him at every turn.

“I’ll make him leave.” Eli looks in the direction my eyes instinctively glance, no doubt spotting Austin down the way. He’s sitting on the back of his tailgate where his truck is parked along the barrier near the runway. Just a casual spectator enjoying a night at the races.

“No,” I respond quickly, moving to block Eli from heading into a shitstorm with his brother. “He’s not going to do anything. He promised.”

“And you believe him?” Eli asks sarcastically, his tone telling me he thinks I’m an idiot for taking Austin’s word on it.

“Yes, I do.”

“Lainey, he’s going to do something, and it’ll be too late for me to stop him.”

“No, he won’t.” He can’t because if he goes back on his word this time, I won’t recover. And somehow, I know he knows that. I’m barely hanging on by a thread. After all the damage he’s caused, that thread has been worn thin. He understands breaking my trust on this would sever our tenuous connection. “Let’s just watch the races.”

My turn is coming up in a few minutes, and I can’t worry about Austin right now. His interference won’t make a difference if I can’t get my head in the race.

“McKay,” crackles over the loudspeaker, barely audible, but I hear it loud and clear. Finding Austin still sitting unmoved (right where I knew he’d be), I look to him for reassurance. There was a time when he supported me. And now he gives me the encouraging nod I hadn’t realized I needed as he motions for me to take my place on the track.

Shit. The race is a stroll in the park compared to him. The track is a steady, motionless foundation, whereas Austin is forever shifting, zigzagging so I don’t know what’s ahead, what position to brace myself in while I wait for his next move.

Avoiding Eli and Hannah, I drop into Lucy’s driver’s seat to a swarm of cheers rooting me on. Carefully weaving through the crowd to the staging area, I queue up until it’s my turn. Once signaled, I drive onto the track and back into the water box before inching out. With Lucy shifted into first gear, I hold the clutch and gas pedal down. Quickly removing my foot from the clutch, I punch the brake to the floor, easing up just enough to allow the tires to spin against the pavement for a burnout.

Warming up the tires is the easy part. Steering to the starting line, I peer down the track. The finish line is lit up, allowing for ample coverage of the goal, but that’s not where my sight is set. My focus is on the darkness beyond the finish line. The emptiness that comes after I don’t cross the finish line first.

Shutting the car off, I switch my attention to the flagger as he begins explaining the rules of the race. Those I know. I’ve heard them too many damn times. I could recite them for him.

“Launch on my signal,” he calls out, clicking a flashlight on then shutting it back off. He waits for my acknowledgement then turns to my opponent, a Z28 that I’ve never raced before but have watched fly down the track plenty of times. The driver indicates he understands with a thumbs-up before the flagger signals for us both to start our engines.

Taking a deep breath, I turn the key in the ignition, and Lucy rumbles to life, the vibration a comforting companion beneath me. With the clutch pressed, I shift her into first, my foot pushing the accelerator until she’s revving just right, my eyes are transfixed on the flashlight held in the flaggers hand. The light switches on, my eyes flick to the darkness beyond the finish line, the unknown.

Letting my foot off the clutch, Lucy darts down the runway, the sidelines becoming a blur. The only thing in my sight is the darkness beyond the finish line.

Looking over, I spot my opponent crossing the finish line just a hair before me. But that’s all it takes. A split second and it’s over. Again.

Steering off the track, I drive into the field. My hands dropping to my lap as I look at the dashboard, the dial bobbing slightly as Lucy’s engine rumbles.

Why? Why can’t I do it? I know I can. I won my fair share of races years ago. Never struggling to cross the line first all those times Dad took me kart racing. Why now? Why can’t I be like I was before he left, before everything changed?

A message dings, interrupting my pity party, so I pull my phone out of my pocket.

Eli: Are you okay?

Me: Yeah.

Eli: Then drive back over here.

Me: Gonna head home. Sorry I let y’all down.

Eli: No big deal. Remember it’s just a race.

Me: Yep.

Nope. It’s not. I can’t explain this to him again. I don’t expect him to understand, but I don’t want my feelings disregarded either. Driving away from the Dome, I head home. I shouldn’t sulk, but that’s all I want to do. That and be left alone.