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At the moment, I’d been left to my own devices, though. She’d left for work early this morning—far earlier than I thought she needed to, considering the library didn’t open until nine. After my grueling daily workout at the local gym, I had nothing to do beside wander around the apartment and nose into things I shouldn’t. This visit was so last minute, I hadn’t made arrangements to hang with friends, and I had zero responsibilities until Friday.
And I still had to tell Bristol we were married, but that was a whole other can of worms, especially since I was sure she had no inkling.
She was going to kill me. But to have her hands on me… Death might be worth it if I could feel her touching me one more time. Yesterday, when I’d brushed against her, breathed in her fresh floral scent, snuck the moment with my arm around her waist… It had been a glimpse of the heaven I’d lost when I’d plunged myself into a purgatory of my own making.
And if I stayed in the apartment much longer, I knew I’d get myself into trouble by snooping into her things. Bristol was the type to know exactly how she’d left things. She’dknowI’d pawed through her shit.
Momentarily, I considered going to the library to see her, but I decided to give her space and a little time to accept I was here. Me being in her past was done. It troubled me that she’d gone out on that date yesterday, but it was just one more hurdle I would leap over for her. I had to. I’d practically set up the barricades all on my own.
Tapping my fingers on my thigh, I stared out the living room’s front window. From here, you could almost see the lake. Just the barest glimpse of blue filled the horizon through gaps between the buildings nearer to the water. I wasn’t sure what it was about the scene, but it made me think of motorbikes soaring through the air and gave me the idea to head over to the track east of town. It was possible no one would be practicing, but the visit to my old stomping grounds would take me back to happier times.
Grabbing my coat, I headed down to the disappointment of a rental car almost hoping someone had stolen it during the short space of time since I’d gotten home. No such luck.
It was a short drive to the tracks where I used to ride dirt bikes and karts before leveling up to ARCA then into the NASCAR Cup series racing. When I got out of the car, the welcome sound of motors roared across the air. Someone was here—several someones from the number of engines I heard. I wondered if it was any of my friends. I knew Flip Anderson still practiced for motocross here, but who knew what bikers raced the course at breakneck speed today?
When I cleared the trees and the track came into view, two bikers took the hills and careened into the air while they sped around the winding dirt track. A few others—probably coaches and crew watched from the edge, behind a short barrier. Standing off to the side, I watched, vicariously feeling the exhilaration fill me. There was only one thing I loved more than speed and being a daredevil. Oneperson. Bristol.
“Miss it?”
I glanced over at the man who’d joined me without me noticing.
“Mr. Anderson,” I said with a smile, greeting Flip’s dad. That told me Flip must be one of the riders on the course.
“After all this time, I think you can call me Carson now,” he replied, grinning back at me. Carson Anderson could best described as the cool dad. I’d never wished he was mine, because my father was pretty awesome, but I thought Carson would make a good uncle. He was also an excellent landlord. Bristol’s place and the grounds around the building were top notch.
“Okay, Carson,” I said, giving him the obligatory reply, using his first name.
“So how’s life over in NASCAR land? I mean motocross is where it’s at, but I guess stock car racing can take second place.”
I chuckled. “Some days, I miss motocross a lot.” It wasn’t as if I’d ever been more than an amateur, but I’d loved the freedom and adrenaline of it. “There’s nothing like the Gs you feel while racing the track at almost two hundred—sometimes more—but I do miss flying through the air on purpose and feeling that wind whipping past me while I calculate my landing or navigate a trick.”
“I could still get you on a bike,” he said with a wink. “A driver crossing over from stock car racing to bikes? Sponsors would eat that up.”
“Worth a thought,” I conceded. On many frustrating nights, alone in my trailer, that would be an outstanding offer. “I think I might stick with the car, though. More longevity. For the most part.”
There were always stories of the tragedies, but as a driver, I tried not to dwell on them much. All the what-ifs would do was freeze me up.
One of the bikers skidded to a stop hear us and leapt off the bike. When he yanked off his helmet, I saw it was Flip.
“Axel!” he yelled, jogging toward me then almost body-slamming me into a hug. “Welcome home, man!”
“Thanks. You guys look great out there.”
He waved a hand. “My timing’s off today. Not enough sleep. Neva’s killing it, though.”
“Little Neva Woods? Bristol’s cousin?” I knew of her. Two of her brothers, the twins, had been good friends of mine. They were the ones who’d come to spring break with me and Bristol.
“Not so little anymore. She’s all grown up and kicking the asses of the guys on the circuit. Almost beat me the last time out.”
His dad shook his head. “Kid…your ego is showing.”
“Racing mojo, Dad.” He turned toward me as his father waved goodbye and headed over to the group who’d been watching Flip and Neva. Now that I’d been here for a few minutes I saw there were two other riders on the course, as well.
“What brings you over?” Flip asked me.
“In town with nothing much to do until Friday. Thought I’d check out the old stomping grounds. This place has grown up,” I said.
“Industry secret,” he said, matching my stance in his practice race suit, arms crossed and feet planted, while we both watched the course. “We’ve built up things to high standards, with trainers, facilities, and stuff. A lot of up and comers are training here now. Plus my friend, Barrett, opened his garage, and he specializes in custom work and race bikes. I bet three-quarters of his business comes from the circuit. He and AJ, the guy who works for him, are the only ones I trust to touch on my ride.”
