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“Yeah, yeah, I know. She’s already lectured me on all of our upcoming lifestyle changes. I’ll let you get back to work, Hana. I just wanted to say hi now that I’m awake.”
“Okay, Dad. I love you.”
“I love you, sweetheart.”
The call ends and the sound of someone climbing the stairs to the roof balcony makes me spin back around to face the track. Dammit. I’m standing here all whimpery because I just talked to my dad who almost died. The last thing I want to do is small talk with some spectator. I slide my phone into my back pocket and wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes.
Pretending to be incredibly interested in the track before me, I watch the first moto complete their laps. Maybe whoever it is will walk to the other side of the roof and leave me alone. Of course, now that word has gotten out about Dad’s heart attack, and the track’s Facebook page has mentioned that Jim’s daughter will be running the show today, it seems like everyone wants to talk to me.
The stranger’s footsteps walk directly toward me. I stiffen, my hands going immediately into fists.
“Hana?”
The voice freezes every cell in my body. There’s no freaking way.
I turn around, slowly, my eyes focused on the floor. If this is just a trick of my mind, some sick cruel joke conspired by my brain and heart working against me, I will lose it. His hand reaches out and takes mine, breaking the spell that had kept me from looking up.
When my eyes meet his, I know this can’t possibly be real. He should be in California racing to keep his career intact. Maybe he’s a mirage, a figment of my imagination, appearing because I want him so badly that I’ve gone completely insane and gained the power of hallucination.
“Ash?” I whisper, expecting him to poof into thin air.
His head dips down as he pulls my hands forward and around his back until our bodies meet. His lips hover over mine, his breath minty and warm on my skin. I know without a doubt, that he is real.
And he’s right here in Mixon, Texas.
Chapter 28
Ash’s hands slide up my arms, then tuck behind my waist. My back presses against the balcony railing. His dreadlocks cast a shade over my face. In the distance, Marty’s voice rings out, announcing the winner of this moto. My breathing is shallow, my heart straining beneath my ribcage.
Ash’s movements make his actions pretty clear, yet there is still so much I don’t understand right now. I want him to kiss me, but his teeth bite down on his bottom lip, and I get the feeling he’s trying to stop himself from doing that very thing. So instead, I lean forward, pressing my cheek against his solid chest. The action is so familiar, so comforting, it’s almost as if we’d never stopped being together.
I listen to his heart beating, strong and stable as always and all of the commotion below fades into the background. “Why are you here?” I ask, still holding myself tightly to him. My fingers dig into his back, but he doesn’t make an effort to pull away.
“Shelby said you were putting on this race by yourself, and I wanted to come help.”
This time I do pull back, just enough to look at him, my eyebrow quirked. “You’re supposed to be racing in California today.”
His shoulders lift. “I know.”
My eyes narrow. “This race is important to your overall points standings since you missed so many races from your broken arm.”
“I know,” he says again.
My head tilts to the side. “You flew down here, to watch a silly Regionals race, when your entire professional supercross career is on the line?”
The muscles in his back relax beneath my touch. “I did.”
The weight of what he’s done slams into me like a
hurricane, and suddenly I am drowning in all of these emotions that I’ve tried so hard to keep hidden away. “Ash, you can’t do this.”
I release him, and as much as my arms don’t want to let go, I move to the side and turn to look out over the track. My head shakes and I draw in a deep breath. “You can’t do this for me, Ash. You can’t just come here and put this on me.”
His hand touches my lower back for a moment and then he brings his hands up to his face. The loss of his touch makes a cold shudder run through me. His fingers run through his hair and he stares up at the sky. “I’m not here to make you feel bad. My decision was my own. I don’t care about the race. I’d rather be here.”
I let out my breath in a huff, trying like hell to build up some anger so this will be easier to say. “You need to rush back to the airport and see if there’s still time to race tonight.”
“No. I’m here for you.” He tosses his arms in the air. “If you don’t want to talk, that’s fine. Put me to work. Where do you need an extra person?”
