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“I can’t believe I’m here,” I say out loud, which gains Leslie’s attention.
“Why’s that?”
I shrug, my eyes on the track. “There’s just so much toxic masculinity.”
She snorts a quiet laugh and shakes her head as she looks right at me. “Your focus was on football for a long time there. You really don’t think that’s some toxic macho-men bullshit?”
I laugh and can’t fight my smile, just before the grimace comes over me. I was very much obsessed with football for a while. But I don’t want to think about that time in my life.
I don’t want to think about the way I failed. And failed damn hard.
“Maybe I should switch to women’s sports.”
She shrugs as her attention returns to the track. “Women can be dicks too. Anywhere you have competition, you’re going to find some serious assholes.”
“True.”
She doesn’t get to say anything else, though, because out of nowhere, a black car smashes into the wall, one my eyes were firmly on. Then another and another pile up, while the other racers try like hell to avoid the wreckage and continue on.
I see Royal jump out of his car, followed by the driver of the red car who slammed him into the wall, both of them screaming and yelling at each other.
Yeah. This is a great fucking look, Royal.
They appear to be yelling, their hands flailing around as they both remove their helmets and then... a punch is thrown.
And of course, it’s Royal’s fist that flew first.
Soon, the other drivers who also wrecked are approaching, along with the pit crews, and I see Jenny moving that way too.
He’s definitely fucked now. Jenny is not happy as the fight grows bigger and bigger. Grown-ass men rolling around on the pavement, trying to kill each other, while some try to pull the guys who are fighting apart.
It’s absolute and total chaos.
“Fucking morons,” Leslie says, shaking her head, and I’m pretty sure her eyes are on her husband as Cash removes one of his racers from the fight. I don’t see Axel or Sebastian, so they must still be in the race. God help any of them if they accidentally hit Cash because I’m pretty sure the woman next to me will go feral.
And then I watch Jenny pull Royal by the collar as he throws another punch at the guy on the ground—the one who hit his car and sent him into the wall. But he doesn’t fight Jenny when she pulls him away.
Thankfully, he looks like he’s trying to cool down as she pulls his sorry ass toward the sidelines.
I sigh heavily. This was supposed to show me the good side of Royal Dutton. But I’ve seen him race before. I’ve seen him in this exact damn scenario. I’ve gone live and talked about it many times. I’ve written many articles about it over the years.
About how toxic this sort of behavior is. How little boys and girls at home are watching this display and think that it’s totally fine to hit someone when they make you mad.
How they have a responsibility to their fans not to do this. But does Royal care? Hell no.
How am I supposed to find something good in this man who clearly doesn’t give a damn about anything other than winning a race?
It’s going to be impossible.
CHAPTER7
ROYAL
Fuck, she’s pissed. And I mean, really damn pissed-off. Her nostrils are flaring, and she might actually kill me this time.
But that asshat sent me into the wall and totaled my damn car. Took me out of today’s race. Why the hell isn’t she mad athim? He cost us the race today.
But I keep my mouth shut as she releases my collar and stands directly in front of me, her patience razor thin. Even I can pick up on that.
