Chapter 18 Gianna #2
I pause, looking up from the Mustang’s panel to see Mr Fernando watching me with concern.
He’s right. I could have just popped the dents in the panel out, sanded it down and resprayed, but there’s something about panel beating that’s usually cathartic.
Like each hit bangs out all the problems that have resurfaced.
Only right now, it’s the opposite. With each hit, I find myself wondering how far the ripples of a decision can go …
and if any of my problems ever really went away.
‘What’s eating you?’ Mr Fernando asks.
A better question would be what isn’t. I’ve been on a rollercoaster of emotions lately.
I could tell him everything. I could tell him about Landon stealing cars under the guise of Midnight Spares.
I could tell him that Ryker knows the guy who stole the Porsche.
I could tell him that Ma kept the speedway a secret from me for years.
I could tell him that even though the speedway’s mine now, I’m not sure I have the money to renovate and open it back up yet because I lost a chunk of my savings to someone who’s scheming to steal my car.
But I don’t want to deal with unpacking all of that shitstorm right now.
Besides, trauma-dumping on Mr Fernando isn’t my style.
‘Nothing,’ I lie.
He pries the panel from my fingers and inspects it before side-eyeing me. ‘Nothing, huh?’ A solemn laugh escapes him, but it fades as he runs his fingers over the other dents in the Mustang’s chassis. His eyes dart to mine, radiating disappointment.
My belly drops. The damage could have been a lot worse, but seeing the marks on the car makes my heart sink. I’m the first Brooks to lose a race.
‘I know,’ I sigh.
‘This, I get.’ Mr Fernando gestures to the side panels. ‘But this? How’d you get these dents in the hood?’
My cheeks heat, remembering Ryker splaying me there. God, I wish Deputy Dellenty had given me five more minutes. As soon as I felt Ryker’s tongue against mine, the way he kissed me like I was his life, the brittle wall I’d been trying to keep up between us momentarily dissolved.
I bite my lip, cursing the rush of blood that pours down my spine. I clench my thighs, ignoring the way my belly tightens and aches for Ryker even when he’s not here.
In the bay to my left, Renny drops a chamois from a vehicle he was cleaning up before walking over. ‘Cheer up, Little G.’ He hooks an arm over my shoulders. ‘é nóis.’
‘Thanks, Renny.’
Mr Fernando leans through the passenger window. ‘We could put in a new stereo system, too. Looks like you’re still running on tapes.’
‘No.’ The word comes out too abruptly, but it doesn’t faze him as he continues to examine the console. ‘I just …’ I spin the rings on my fingers with my thumb. ‘Pa’s tapes are still in there. I like them.’
Depending on the day, they also get jammed and I’m stuck listening to whatever’s in there blaring at full volume. I love it.
Mr Fernando nods in understanding, his eyes softening at the mention of his old friend. He straightens and gives the Mustang another long look before running a hand along the back of his neck.
‘You kids need a story.’
Renny groans. ‘Pai, we don’t need a story.’
‘It wasn’t a question.’ Mr Fernando waves to his office and a smile pulls at my lips.
It’s good to have something feel exactly as it used to.
He guides Renny and me inside his office and motions for us to sit on the old sofa.
Chuckie sits on my feet, leaning against my legs.
Renny perches at the end of the couch and flops back.
The only new thing in the office is the TV in the corner of the room. Mr Fernando reaches for the remote, turning the volume down, but then he pauses and brings it back up. Flashes of blue and red dance across the screen as a news presenter speaks.
‘Motorists can expect delays as the highway toward Empire City remains closed. Emergency crews are still clearing the crash site at the old blast furnaces on the outskirts of Booker Bay. As you can see, charred debris from the Porsche is still littered across the ground. Police suspect ECU basketball coach Alexander Barnes may be involved with the theft, and urge any residents with information regarding his whereabouts to contact the number on the screen immediately.’
Stolen Porsche.
‘Shame that,’ Mr Fernando tuts. ‘That model was a limited edition.’
‘Only twenty made across the world.’
The sudden voice makes me jump. My heart is hit with sharp envy when Chuckie leaves me, wagging his tail, and rushes straight toward Ryker, who’s leaning against the doorframe.
I instantly regret looking over. It’s illegal how stunning he is.
He’s dressed in a black leather jacket, black jeans and a black tee.
His hands are in his pockets. I can see the smallest hint of the tattoos edging along his neck.
He reaches behind his ear, bringing a cigarette to his lips.
‘If you’re thinking about lighting that up in here, don’t,’ Mr Fernando warns.
‘Well, you gotta be more specific, Mr F.’ Ryker pushes off the frame and sits between Renny and me. ‘Do you mean don’t smoke or don’t think?’
I curse my body for having such a visceral reaction to Ryker’s presence on the sofa beside me. He clicks the lighter, flicking me a look that lingers. His eyes rake over me, searing a path down my skin. Then he frowns, releases the lighter’s fuel lever, and tucks it away.
‘Smart choice.’ Mr Fernando says before giving Ryker a playful smack across his head.
Renny shuffles, nudging Ryker’s side. ‘Mano, did you do that?’ he whispers, nodding at the television.