52. Coraline
52
CORALINE
The truck jostles as Jasper turns off the main road, the smooth pavement giving way to a bumpy dirt path. I let my hand dangle out the open window, enjoying the way the warm evening breeze dances between my fingers. It lifts strands of my hair, making them flutter around my face.
I turn my head, watching the scenery pass by. The sun hangs low on the horizon, painting the sky in vibrant streaks of orange and pink. It bathes everything in a dreamy, ethereal light. Towering evergreens and sprawling oaks line the edge of a wooded area.
Anticipation sizzles through my veins as we venture further down the secluded path, the truck bouncing over the uneven terrain. I steal a glance at Jasper, his chiseled profile illuminated by the fading sunlight streaming through the windshield. He catches my gaze, those mesmerizing eyes glinting with mischief and wicked promise.
“Almost there, baby,” he says.
I flash him a sidelong glance. “It’s in the woods?”
“Just wait.”
I nod, biting my lip and reserving judgment. The trees thin out as we round a bend, and my breath catches in my throat. Jasper slows the truck to a stop, and I lean forward, my eyes widening at the sight before us.
Nestled in the heart of the forest is a massive clearing, bathed in the golden hour from the quickly sinking sun. In the center sits an old race track, its weathered asphalt cracked and faded with age. Towering bleachers flank either side, the metal rusted but still standing strong. An announcer’s booth rises above it all on the far side, paint chipped but windows intact.
It’s enchanting, like some kind of time capsule. A haunting reminder of days past.
I sit forward and look out the windshield. “I can’t believe I never knew about this.”
Engines roar, people laugh and cheer, music pulsates from several speakers. It’s loud, loud enough that I’m genuinely surprised no one can hear this from the road. Maybe the woods muffle the sound somehow?
A slow smile spreads across my face as I take it all in, wonder and excitement mingling in my chest. “This is incredible.”
He grins, that roguish smirk that makes my heart skip a beat. “Welcome to The Alley, baby.”
I hop out of the truck, my sneakers crunching on the gravel as I take it all in. Jasper rounds the hood and tosses his arm over my shoulder. I let him lead us toward the entrance.
He points toward a faded metal sign over the entrance. “Avalon Falls Alley was the first circle track in the area for hundreds of miles back in the 50s. It shut down decades ago, and no one really knows why. But there are rumors that it’s because of a bunch of murders.”
My eyes widen at Jasper’s words. “Murders?” I can’t help the shiver that runs down my spine despite the balmy evening air.
He chuckles, pulling me closer against his side. "Just local legends, baby. No one knows for sure what really happened. But that's part of the allure, isn't it? The mystery, the history."
As we step through the entrance, the energy of the crowd envelops us. Laughter and chatter mingle with the growl of mufflers as cars line up on the track, their hoods propped open to show their engines. The sound is deafening in the best way.
We weave through the crowd, Jasper’s arm a reassuring weight around my shoulders. I take in the scene: the gleaming cars, the flirty girls in their ripped jeans and crop tops, the racers posturing and taunting each other. It feels like something you’d see on a TV show, not a scene from my town.
Jasper guides us over to the waist-high chain-link fence that separates us from the track itself. He situates me in front of him, his chest to my back and arms on either side of me.
I lean my head back against his chest, turning my face toward him and kissing the side of his neck.
He drops his head forward and leans down, his lips grazing my ear as he murmurs, “Having fun yet, baby?”
I grin up at him, nodding. “This is wild here. I can’t believe I never knew it existed until now.”
“It’s not exactly a secret, but it’s not advertised either,” he says, his eyes scanning the crowd. “Self-governed by the unofficial new owner and his crew. He’s the one who put in the time and effort into getting it up and running again.”
I hum in understanding, my gaze drawn back to the track as a pair of cars rev their engines, the sound echoing off the bleachers. I watch as a bunch of guys clustered around a sleek black car on the other side of the fence. It’s not on the cement track, but a big grassy patch next to it. I recognize a few of them as Reapers, their kuttes unmistakable even in the fading light.
Just as I’m about to ask Jasper if we need to worry about other MCs coming here, someone stumbles into us. Beer sloshes over my arm, splashing against my bare legs and the hem of my dress.
“Shit,” I curse, jumping to the side out of instinct. Not that it matters much since it feels like he dumped his whole drink on me.
“Damn, you made me spill my drink,” some random guy snaps. His words slide together too easily, and he stumbles a little.
Okay, so he’s definitely drunk.
“Watch it, asshole,” Jasper warns, his voice a low growl. He plants a hand against the drunk guy’s shoulder and pushes him back a few steps.
The drunk guy staggers back, nearly losing his balance. He blinks a few times, trying to focus his bleary eyes on Jasper. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" he slurs, puffing out his chest in a misguided attempt at bravado.
Jasper’s jaw tightens, and he moves to stand in front of me, shielding me with his body. “Walk it off.”
The tension crackles between them, and for a moment, I’m afraid it might come to blows. But then the drunk guy seems to think better of it, muttering curses under his breath as he walks backward until he disappears into the crowd.
Jasper resumes his position behind me, using his body as a shield from the rest of the crowd. He leans down, his breath warm against that sensitive spot behind my ear. “You good, baby?”
I arch my neck to give him better access, and like the mind reader I swear he is sometimes, he plants a line of kisses down my neck.
“I’m fine, really.”
The floodlights flicker to life as dusk settles over the old racetrack, and anticipation skips across my skin.
“Is it always cars or do motorcycles race here too?”
“Both. And before you ask, no, I haven’t raced here. But Hawke has a couple of times,” he murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of my ear with every word.
Like he was summoned by his name alone, Hawke appears next to me with three drinks in his hands. He leans his ass against the fence and faces us. “Well, don’t you two look cute. Here, got these for you guys.”
I tip my chin up and look at him. “I know, right. And thanks,” I say, accepting the solo cup. It looks like a mixed drink. I take an experimental sniff and immediately regret it. I can feel the instant grimace tighten my expression.
Whisky and cola. Woof.
I glance inside Jasper’s cup, and it’s definitely beer. “Hey, why did you give him beer and I got . . . whatever this is.”
“You wanna trade, baby? I’m driving, so I’m not really drinking,” Jasper says, dragging the side of his face along mine.
“Not really. I hate beer.” I sound petulant even to my own ears.
“Yeah, someone has to drive us home after this. I’m a few drinks in and my ride ditched me for the dude racing the blacked-out corvette tonight,” Hawke says with a grin, completely unbothered his date left him for another dude.
I waggle my cup in the air. “You trying to get me drunk at The Alley, Hawke?”
He hands Jasper the third red solo cup and says to me, “Wouldn’t dream of it, Carter.”
My brows lift as I look at the way his grin is growing wider as he talks. “You know your mouth says one thing and your face says something different.”
Hawke laughs, a dimple appearing in his cheek. “Never change, Carter. Seriously.”
“Thanks for the permission,” I drawl, rolling my eyes.
Hawke leans forward like he’s telling me a secret. “Ooh, sassy Carter. That’s my favorite Carter.”
Jasper plants his hand on Hawke’s chest, and he pushes him back. “Stop hitting on my girl, Hawke.”
Hawke raises both hands in surrender, but he doesn’t ditch the sly smirk on his face. “Hey, I’m not hittin’ on her. Carter and I are tight, ain’t that right?”
My lips twist to the side, amusement and recklessness fizz inside of me like a shaken soda. “Heard you sent me a dick pic today, Hawke. I’m not sure we’re tight anymore.”
“Baby,” Jasper warns in a low voice. His right hand presses against my lower stomach, and he pushes me back into him further. As if I wasn’t already plastered against his front.
“Bro,” Hawke gasps, hand to his chest like he’s hurt. He glances behind me, at what I’m assuming is Jasper’s dark expression. “It was a selfie . I sweet-talked Mrs. Weatherby into sharing some of her tartlets she ordered from you. That’s it.”
I tsk and lift my shoulder. “Jasper called it a sexy selfie.”
Hawke crosses one ankle over the other and folds his arms across his chest. His mouth hooks into a smug grin as he glances at the man behind me. “Damn, Jagger, sounds like you’re hitting on me .”
I shake my head with a low laugh. I haven’t been around the two of them in a long time. It’s kind of fun to watch their dynamic. Okay, so it’s mostly Hawke giving Jasper shit, but I think he low-key likes it. Otherwise he’d literally walk away.
Jasper grunts, “Fuck off, Hawke.” There’s no heat in it though.
Hawke tosses his head back with a laugh, the sound carrying over the revving engines. “Don’t worry, bro. I can give you some tips for selfies if you need ‘em.”
A vision of Hawke instructing Jasper on how to hold the camera and tips on the best lighting bloom to life, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing.
“Remind me why you’re here,” Jasper says with a sigh.
“And miss a night with my friends at The Alley?” Hawke asks, head cocked to the side like it’s a no-brainer. “Bro.”
He says the one word like it’s supposed to mean more than its three letters. And I guess to the man behind me it does, because Jasper lets out a huff of a laugh.
“Yeah, alright. But to be clear, I don’t need your help on taking selfies.”
I tip my head back toward him, looking at him upside down. “Wanna trade sexy selfies later?”
He tucks his face against the slope of my neck, his lips brushing my pulse as he says, “I don’t need selfies when I can have the real thing anytime I want.”
I breathe out a quiet laugh, my brows rising. “ Any time you want, hm?”
He scrapes the edge of his teeth over my skin. “Yeah, baby. Any time.”
He straightens up, his arms tightening around me and a low growl rumbling in his chest. I lean back into him, my hands coming to rest over his in a silent reassurance. I feel a little guilty for enjoying his possessiveness though, even if there’s no reason he should feel threatened.
The energy of the crowd swells as the cars line up at the starting line, engines revving in anticipation. I lean forward, gripping the chain link fence, my eyes fixed on the row of cars I couldn’t identify if I was at gunpoint. I don’t know shit about cars, but I can’t deny how thrilling this whole thing is.
With Jasper’s comforting presence behind me and Hawke’s easy commentary next to me, I spend the next two hours watching cars race around the track.
It’s a perfect night.