14. Eloise
14
ELOISE
The scent of grilled meat and lime hangs in the air, blending with the warm, earthy smell of summer nights. Nate’s backyard is quiet except for our laughter and the occasional clink of tequila glasses against cheap ceramic plates. The glow from the string of lights he hung from his porch throws warm circles of light over our taco spread, illuminating Margot’s triumphant grin as she hoists her glass.
“To Louie, the best goddamn driver this town’s ever seen!” she declares, eyes glinting with pride.
“Hey, what about me? The guy who taught her everything she knows,” Nate teases, tossing his arm over my shoulders.
“Nah, her dad did all that,” Margot says, her grin softening into something bittersweet.
Nate slides his arm off my shoulders, reaching for his glass. He raises it, a teasing smile on his lips. “To Thorne and her dad!”
Margot echoes the cheer, and the three of us clink glasses. Warmth blooms in my chest, a mix of pride and nostalgia. Winning the heat felt incredible, but it’s seeing Margot’s look of pride that makes me think, maybe, just maybe, I can do this. I just might have a chance in the Gauntlet.
“Thanks, guys,” I say, grinning as I down the tequila. The fiery liquid spreads heat through my veins. “But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. There’s another pre-qualifier in two days, and we don’t even know if I made the cut yet.”
Margot scoffs, waving me off. “Oh, you made it. You killed it tonight, Louie. Ain’t no one touching you.”
Nate leans back, the corner of his mouth lifting as he sips his drink. “She’s right. You were phenomenal out there. That move to escape the box? Fucking genius, Thorne. That’s not something I taught you.”
“Sometimes we get lucky,” I say, trying to suppress the smile pulling at my lips.
Even with tonight’s win, the looming pressure of the Gauntlet wraps around me, squeezing tight. The race pulses through my memory, the thrill of victory tangled with the anticipation of what’s next. But for now, Margot’s right—it’s worth celebrating. We’ve learned to savor the little things, even if they’re fleeting.
Margot tilts her head, watching me with that knowing smirk. “So, what’s the plan for the next couple of days? You heading to Clearwater?”
“You know it. Gotta get a read on the competition.” I tear off a piece of tortilla and pop it in my mouth. “I want to see what kind of drivers they are.”
My dad used to talk about competition, about racing with a kind of reverence. I can’t tell anymore if those are real memories or ones I’ve created to comfort myself. Sometimes, they blur into hazy, dreamlike fragments, leaving me wondering what’s real and what’s a dream.
Or if I’m so desperate for something happy in my childhood that I made it all up and told myself it’s a memory.
“Damn right,” Margot says, leaning over the table and smacking my arm with playful encouragement.
“Getting serious about the Gauntlet, huh? I like it,” Nate says, his voice softening, a smile tugging at his lips. It’s the kind of smile that says more than it should.
I force a laugh, brushing it off. “Yeah, well, I figured I should, since you two assholes conspired against me and signed me up.” I cut him a look, dragging it to my sister. “Which I haven’t forgiven you for yet, by the way.”
“Not even after tacos and tequila?” Margot’s expression is all mock innocence.
“It’s going to take more than fish tacos to make up for that,” I say, rolling my eyes as I grab a tortilla chip.
“Yeah? What about five hundred grand? Would that do it?” Margot grins as she throws it back at me.
I flick the chip at her, unable to hide my smile. “Brat.”
Margot laughs, dodging the chip easily. “Whatever. I’m not wrong, though. Anyway, I’m out.”
“You’re going home already? Celebratory tacos was your idea.”
She smirks as she stands up, brushing off her shirt. “It was a great idea, right? But I’ve got plans to meet a friend. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
I narrow my eyes, sisterly intuition flaring. “What friend? Someone in the neighborhood?”
“Nope. Just a friend from class. We’re hitting up that diner with the decent coffee. Not the one with the sticky tables.”
Before I can press further, she’s halfway out of Nate’s yard, moving with the kind of confidence that makes me proud and nervous all at once.
“Be careful!” I call after her.
“Duh!” she shouts back, her voice disappearing into the night.
I chuckle, turning back to Nate. His eyes meet mine, that quiet warmth in his gaze making the air between us feel suddenly heavy. I shift, fiddling with the napkin in my lap, searching for something to break the silence.
“So, what are you going to do when you win this thing?” Nate asks, his voice low and serious.
I shrug, looking up at the string of lights casting soft shadows across the yard. “Pay for school for Vivie and Margot. Maybe splurge on steakhouse dinners a few times.”
Nate’s smile turns wistful. “You wouldn’t leave Seven Pines?”
I let out a laugh that feels thin. “Where would I even go?”
“Maybe somewhere with more . . . options,” he says, the unspoken question hanging in the air between us.
I clear my throat, the weight of his words pressing into me. “Nate . . .”
The rumble of an engine cuts through the silence, stopping in front of my house—or maybe his. The low growl makes my stomach tighten.
“You expecting anyone?” I ask, my pulse kicking up a notch.
Nate shakes his head slowly. “No. Anyone who’d come over would just walk.”
The pounding on a door is sudden and sharp, followed by a voice I’d hoped not to hear. Recognition prickles over my skin, and my stomach drops. I know that voice. I still have nightmares about that voice.
“Fucking Darla,” I hiss, the name tasting bitter in my mouth.
Nate’s eyes narrow, and we both stand, moving toward the front yard as the shouts grow louder.
“Eloise! Get out here! You owe me, damn it!” Darla’s voice slurs through the night, rough and jagged.
Nate’s hand brushes my arm, a silent question. I shake my head. “I’ve got this,” I say, my voice steady. It’s not for his benefit, it’s for mine.
Darla stands in the yellow glow of my porch light, her hair a tangled mess and her eyes glassy. A half-rusted car idles at the curb, a man lounging behind the wheel, cigarette ember glowing like a warning. Her newest boyfriend, I’m sure.
“Eloise!” she shouts again, staggering toward me, anger twisting her features. “Where’s my baby, huh? Where’s my Vivienne?”
I step forward before she can get any louder, keeping my voice low. My chest tightens at her words, and I step forward, cutting her off before she can start yelling loud enough to wake the entire neighborhood. I ignore everything else she said. I’m not falling for her shit again. “What do you want?”
She scowls, her eyes glassy, unfocused. “I’m your mother, damn it. Treat me with a little respect.”
Every nerve in my body screams at me to keep my composure. “What do you want, Darla?” I annunciate my words, gritting them out between clenched teeth.
Her eyes flicker with something mean, a smirk breaking across her face. “Money. I need money, Eloise.”
I shake my head, the denial already out of my mouth. “Nah, no way. I just gave you money last week. Like I have been for fucking years, Mom . I’m not giving you shit right now.”
Her sneer deepens, her voice cutting. “You think you’re better than me, don’t you? Living here, raising my kids. You’re nothing, you hear me? Nothing but?—”
“Go home, Darla,” I say, my voice tight, unyielding.
“Fine,” she snaps, but there’s a gleam in her eye that says this isn’t over. “But don’t think this is the end, Eloise. You can’t escape who you are. We’re the same, you and me.”
The words echo in my mind as she stumbles back to the car, the engine roaring as it speeds off. Nate’s hand settles on my shoulder, grounding me.
“You okay?” he asks softly.
I nod, though it’s a hollow gesture. “Yeah,” I murmur, though my voice sounds strange to my own ears. Faded and distant, like someone else is speaking. I feel Nate’s hand on my shoulder, grounding me, but my thoughts are miles away, tangled up in memories and a knot of emotions that I can’t quite sort out.
We stand there in silence for a moment, the night settling around us, heavy with the echoes of my mother’s parting words. The air feels colder somehow, the warmth from earlier fading into something sharp and hollow.
“I think I’m going to head in. But thanks for having my back.”
“Always, Thorne.”
I step into the house, the echoes of Darla’s parting words still slicing through me like a serrated edge. The door swings shut behind me, the finality of it making the air feel thicker, heavier. It’s quiet now, but the silence is deceptive, masking the turmoil that roils beneath my skin.
Darla is a collection of habits, most of them bad. She’s unpredictable and fucking mean.
But she’s never shown up at my house like this before. Not once in all these years. I didn’t even know she knew where we lived. But I should have. I’ve become complacent here, foolishly assuming she’d stay placated by the money I scrape together for her, content with her self-inflicted absence from our lives.
I shouldn’t have let myself forget the one thing Darla Hawthorne is above all else: gluttonous. She takes and takes and takes. If I give her an inch, she’ll pick my bones clean.
The only way to escape her is to get the fuck out of Avalon Falls.
Which means I need to win the Gauntlet.
I draw in a shaky breath, trying to contain the rage thrumming in my veins, but it’s useless. Her presence broke the dam. And now, no matter how much I try, I can’t turn it off.
Leaning back against the door, the cool wood presses into my overheated skin, a stark contrast to the heat radiating through my body. My heart pounds erratically, each beat a harsh reminder of how quickly everything can shift, how fragile the peace I’ve fought to keep really is.
The echoes of Darla’s taunts cling to me like smoke, venomous and bitter. And I wonder, for just a moment, if she’s right. If escape is just a story I tell myself, as unreachable as the stars.