Page 32 of Fueled Fury

19

Austin

Stretching across my mattress, I find my sheets empty as I feel around for her. How did she get out of the bed without me knowing? The last thing I remembered was listening to her soft breaths as she’d fallen asleep next to me.

Getting to my feet, I grab a clean pair of jeans and pull them on before heading downstairs. The kitchen is empty, and I notice the coffeepot looks untouched as I walk across the kitchen, moving to the garage door. When I swing it open, I look inside to an empty bay.

She’s gone. Her car isn’t here. She hadn’t just left my bed. She’d left the house.

“Looking for something?” Eli asks from behind me.

Running upstairs, I grab a T-shirt, pull it on, and grab my keys and wallet.

Eli leans against the doorframe, blocking the path to her as he says, “You really fucked up this time.”

No. I didn’t. Everything was good last night. Really good. I felt her pulling away from me in some ways, but she was there and stayed with me.

“Where is she?”

He shakes his head. “You really do make it too easy.”

Trudging across the room, I shove past him as I hurry down the stairs. The jackass isn’t going to tell me where she is, but I will find her. I know her better than he does. He doesn’t have a fucking clue what’s going on between Lainey and me. I just need to find her.

Hopping in my truck, I drive across town, swinging by Big Tobe’s and a few other places I know she hangs out at. There’s one more stop in Sunland that I’ll check before I head to her parents’ houses.

As I turn down the dirt road leading to the Dome, memories of last night flood my mind. She was upset about the race, but we were good. The runway comes into view as part of me relaxes. I found her. This is about the race. This is about her, not me. Eli is wrong. I didn’t screw up. There’s just something here that she needed more than me. Something she can’t grasp.

Pulling to a stop, my feet land hard on the pavement as the morning sun above gives the Dome a completely different atmosphere than last night.

Looking at the starting line, every muscle in my body aches to reach her, wanting to wrap her in my arms and fix whatever the fuck is broken.

She doesn’t look to me as I approach, her hands wiping her cheeks as she stares down the runway to the finish line.

“Please go away.” Her voice breaks as she rubs her face again, several blonde strands clinging to her neck where I’m guessing tears have fallen.

“I told you last night, I want to help.”

“Yeah.” She attempts a laugh, but it sounds more like a pained sob when she continues, “We’re not fucking on my car, so get lost.”

“That’s not why I’m here, Lainey. Let me help you with the race.”

Now her laugh is more sadistic than strangled, and she looks to me with disbelief. “Help? How can you help? You don’t know shit about racing, and the person who does won’t help me. He doesn’t think I’m worth the time, or maybe he knows I’m not good enough for a fucking amateur race.”

“No, he thinks too good. And you’re right about one thing, I don’t know shit about racing, but I know you.”

“I can’t do this with you.” She climbs off her car, reaches into her pocket, and pulls her keys out. “I don’t need you.”

“You don’t need me. Trusting yourself is the problem. That’s what’s holding you back.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“You’re hesitating. Not only with me but in every aspect of your life. I don’t know anything about racing, but I see your hesitation at launch. For a split second you second-guess yourself, and it costs you everything. Just trust yourself—trust what you know, who you are, what you’re capable of … what you want. That’s why your dad is so scared for you to be on the track. It’s not that he doesn’t think you’re good enough. He knows you’re too good and once you let go, no one will be able to catch you, not even yourself. You’ll cross the finish first, but it won’t be enough. You’ll keep chasing after an opponent who doesn’t exist anywhere but in your mind.”

She stares at the finish line, tears streaming down her cheeks, but she doesn’t wipe them away. “He chose it over me. If it doesn’t feel like the best feeling in the world, why did he pick it over me? Why wasn’t I enough?” Reaching out, I grab her as she falls against me. “My mom, she hates me because I’m like him. And he doesn’t want me because I remind him of her. I’m their toy. The tool they hurt each other with. The same way you used me to hurt Eli.”

“That’s not—”

Her hands push me away as she yells, “You called me his toy. You said he got jealous when you played with me. You’re the sick son of a bitch who manipulates me. Uses me, then tosses me aside—just like my parents do after they get what they want. All of you can go to hell.”