Chapter 41
CHAPTER 41
JACE
“Oh my god, it’s Jace Collins,” a woman yells.
“Jace, marry me,” another one screams.
“Let’s go Jace,” a guy wearing a Miller Racing hat yells.
“You can park in my garage,” another woman yells in a suggestive tone.
Kinsley snorts at that last one and I chuckle when she mocks the fan quietly. She glances over at me and I smirk. “Jealous?”
“No. You already have a garage. Hers is probably dirty anyway.”
“I don’t know how I feel about you referring to yourself as a garage.”
“Yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.”
I pull into a spot and shut off the car. The roaring of the crowds on the other side of the fence is muffled by the windows as I turn to her. “You know you have nothing to worry about, right?”
She sighs. “I know.”
“You’re it for me, Kinsley. No one has ever and will never compare to you.”
She leans over the center console, kissing me gently. “Same goes for you, you know. There’s no one else I’d rather be with.”
I pull her back in for a desperate kiss, shuttering as her words roll over me. It might not be the three little words I’m struggling to contain, but it’s as close to them as we both are getting right now.
We walk hand in hand through the back gates and I weave our way through the crowded paddock lane. We’re stepping through the table lined front entrance of the Miller Racing club house when someone calls my name.
Turning, I internally groan when I see the petite blonde storming her way over.
Kinsley squeezes my hand and leans farther into my side. “Play nice.”
I guess that groan wasn’t as internal as I thought.
We walk back down the stairs, meeting Angie at the bottom. Her eyes flick to Kinsley, and my body tenses at the pure hatred seething in that single glance. Irritation rolls off of her, softening as she slides her eyes to me.
“I just wanted to wish you luck.”
My head jerks back, my eyebrows furrowing. “When have you ever?—”
She throws her head back laughing, placing her hand on my arm. I shift back, breaking the contact and pull Kinsley closer to my side.
I glance at her and she smiles up at me, but it’s not any of the ones I love. This one is closed mouth and her eyes waver with a hint of pain. I squeeze her hand and turn back to Angie.
“If you’ll excuse us, my parents should be here any minute with the boys and we need to head out on our walk?—”
“You still do that?” Angie giggles.
My jaw ticks.
She always thought my morning track walk the day of the race was a ridiculous superstition. The one day she did everything in her power to make me miss it, I ended up crashing during the race and fracturing my hand. I was out for six weeks after that.
I haven’t missed one since.
And I don’t plan on breaking that streak today.
“Yes. I do.” I step back, pulling Kinsley with me. “Goodbye, Angie.”
Kinsley drags her feet, giving Angie a smile reserved for those she truly can’t stand but doesn’t want them to see otherwise. “If you stick around, the boys should be here any minute with Jace’s parents. Then you can say hi to your son. I’m sure he will be surprised and happy to see you waiting here for him .”
She emphasizes the last word with a pointed stare before she turns and follows me towards the team garage. I pull her into my side, placing a kiss against her temple. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
I shake my head, looking down into her golden gaze.
For finding me.
For saving me.
For protecting not only me, but my boy.
For being everything I always knew was missing.
“For being you.”
When we make it out to the starting line, I stumble a step. Ryder and Lawson turn with head nods, but it’s the silent man standing next to them with his hat low and sunglasses covering what I know are sharp eyes.
Nik’s lips tip up when my jaw drops. “Daddy Nik?—”
“No—”
“—coming out to walk with us mere mortals?”
I feel the heat of his glare scorching my skin as he growls, “You’ve been talking with Cassie too much.”
“Don’t act like you don’t like that nickname.”
“You are not a toddler and I am not your father.”
I imitate Darth Vader’s breathing, grunting when Kinsley pinches my side. I pout looking down at her. She mouths for me to stop poking fun at him and I smirk, stealing a quick kiss.
“Never,” I whisper against her lips.
Straightening, I clap my hands. “Okay, who’s ready for a stroll?”
The conversations revolve around our glory days, when the four of us made this track our home. Kinsley listens with rapt attention as the guys spill all the beans possible about my mistakes, her cheeks turning red with laughter.
Luckily, since I grew up with these fools, I also have enough stories of my own on each to write a whole biography. I think I’ll title it ‘If You Didn’t Want it Talked About, You Shouldn’t Have Done It’ or ‘How to Embarrass Your Friends in 10 Stories.’
With every step around the track, my heart beats faster. My nerves sizzle. My mind clears. And by the time we make it back to the starting line, the crowd, the teams, my friends, and me… we’re ready for lights out at Silverstone.
“That’s what I’m talking about,” I rush out, checking my mirrors.
“Alright, mate. That puts you in P3. You’ve got Moore ahead of you now,” my race engineer says over the radio and I turn my full attention back to the road in front of me.
“How far?”
“Two point four seconds.”
“Okay then. Time to get to work.”
I accelerate through turn five into the straight, catching a glimpse of Law’s back wing as he races around turn six. We’re on lap forty-two with ten more to go, and I can taste the first place podium champagne already.
There’s only one thing standing between me and winning my home race.
Well, two things really.
Okay, maybe three since I have to take into account the jackrabbit behind me.
Lawson holds steady at second, chasing down Ryder in first. Blake is breathing down my neck after I overtook her and the girl is driving as if this is her home race.
Blood thirsty little competitor she is. But we love her all the same.
I close the gap between me and my teammate by lap forty-six. The thing about how sucky this scenario is though? Lawson Moore is one of the best defensive drivers I have ever seen.
But right now I need him to bugger off. Please and thank you.
“Jace, Moore is going to pull to the side on the next straight to give you a clear path.”
“Excuse me, what? Why would he do that?”
“You have the better chance at catching King both in this race and with the season points.”
“That’s bullshit,” I yell, slowing down when he slows down.
“I’m so?—”
“No. I’m earning this on my own. Tell him to get out of his head and let us just fucking do what we do.” I slam on the brake when he gives me the open lane, refusing to pass him. “Drive.”
I know when my race engineer has relayed the message when I see Lawson pick up speed, shifting into his defensive mode. It’s both freaky and alluring to watch. He matches every move you make, as if you’re looking in a mirror, making it near impossible to get around him.
Near being the key word here. So you’re saying there’s a chance.
And here’s mine.
I swing out from behind him as we barrel out of turn eight. I’m quick enough that he can’t jump out in front of me to defend, creeping up on his left.
The position I’m in lines me up for the outside of turn nine, and he knows it. But at the last second, I slam on my brakes and twist, squeezing between him and the sidewall on the inside.
His reaction is quick, flinging himself away from me, costing him speed. I accelerate out of the turn, effectively knocking him down into third.
“Well done. King is three seconds ahead.”
And a simmering dark prince—as my sister loves to call him—hot on my tail.
We all want this win.
Badly.
I’ve only won our home race once, which is nowhere near the number I want.
Lawson and Nik each have one as well.
Ryder, the greedy bastard, has five.
And he’s well onto his sixth if I don’t do something .
Pushing my car to its limits, I’m pulling through lap fifty-one when I catch sight of his rear wing. “Gotcha.”
That glimpse is all I need to really light the fire under my arse as I take the turns at higher speeds, eat up the straights in record time, and close in on the one man standing between me and my win at home.
“Last lap. Last lap.”
“Yep. Thanks.”
Like I didn’t already know it.
Sweat trickles down my spine. My hands flex on the wheel. My breathing slows. My heartbeat drowns out the cheering of the crowds and the roar of the engine.
Less than eighteen turns stand between us and the finish line.
No time like the present to show them what I got.
Gritting my teeth I engage DRS and push up next to Ryder. He skillfully blocks me from the inside of the turn as we pull out into the long curve of turn nine.
My race engineer calls out for me but I tune him out as I push my car to the brink. Dodging when I almost run into him on a tight turn, I silently send an apology and breathe out a sigh of relief.
This track holds a lot of memories, good and bad, for Ryder. I’ll be damned if I create another bad one today.
There’s a limit when you push yourself and your car. A limit that, if you exceed it, you very well may take out the person in the car or cars around you. More than one of us have experienced that at the hands of a rookie or hot shot driver.
I back off, playing it safe and bide what little time I have left to find my opening. There will be no bad memories made today.
My patience pays off because my opening comes in the form of a sliver of space between him and the inside side wall on turn fifteen.
Slipping through it, I hold back my cheers of victory as he stays side by side with me down the short straight. He holds position at my side through turn sixteen, pushing me off the quickest line and gaining ground.
I curse under my breath as we go nose to nose through the last turn and cross under the waving chequered flag. I know before they even announce it that I didn’t win.
“P2. That’s P2.”
Running down the gears, I release the breath I’d been holding through that last series of turns. “Thanks, mate. Thank you everyone. It was a good race.”
I pull up into the second place spot and climb out of my car. Ryder stands off to the side waiting for me and claps a hand on my shoulder, bringing our foreheads together. “You’ve gotten much faster.”
I snort. “And you’ve gotten more slippery. I’ll never understand how you can pull that shit out of your arse.” He chuckles, pulling me in for a hug and I pat him on his back. “Seriously. Happy for you, bruv.”
Pulling back I point at him. “But next year,” I motion to where his car sits in the first place spot, “that will be me.”
Lawson pulls into the third place spot and climbs out of his car. We meet him over there and pat each other on the heads before taking off towards the teams lining up along the fence.
I spot Sydney, our parents, and the boys down the line and rush over to them with Lawson right behind me.
“Oh, my babies, that was amazing. We are so proud of you,” Mum cries as she pulls me and then him into a tear filled hug.
“Not too bad, big brother.” Sydney smirks. “Still can’t believe you got past this one.”
Lawson scowls. “He got lucky.”
I snort. “I’m a high performing athlete. That’s talent, not luck.”
“Dad!” Beckham hops up and down next to Cooper and I bend over the railing, pulling them both into a sweaty hug.
“That was so cool.” Cooper pushes up to his toes, whispers, “And you totally almost had Uncle Ryder.”
“Hey, I heard that.” The man himself pouts from a few steps away.
The boys laugh and someone taps me on my shoulder, pulling my attention.
“Sorry. I have to go do a few things, like accept my trophy and all that?—”
“Have you ever been humble in your life?” Sydney cuts me off and I smirk.
“Love you. Boys, listen to Granny and Pops.”
“Yes sir,” they yell out together as I retreat for the after race interview and cool down.
Ten minutes later, we’re walking up onto the stage as our names are called. Standing in front of everyone with Ryder and Lawson on my right, I can’t help but feel like there’s something missing.
“And accepting the team trophy for Nightingale Racing, Nikolai Morozov,” the announcer booms as the crowd explodes into cheers.
Nik walks out onto the stage, stoic as ever. We all glance at each other, smiles growing on our faces—even Lawson and Nik’s lips seem to tip up a fraction.
A loud whistle causes all of our heads to turn towards the surrounding audience and I bark out a laugh when I see Blake, Sydney, and Kinsley all standing above the crowd on a Nightingale branded luggage box.
They cup their hands around their mouths and cheer us on. There’s a moment of silence as we all listen to the British anthem before we’re instructed to pick up our bottles of champagne. Kinsley lifts her camera as we release the bubbles, spraying each other down before turning our collective celebrations on Nik.
It’s not usual that the team principal would be up here to accept the team’s trophy, but Nik isn’t just any ordinary principal. And this is his home race. We’re here to celebrate his win too.
When the champagne slows, we each hold up our trophies with an arm wrapped around one of the other’s shoulders. The crowd goes wild as we cheer and I catch Kinsley wiping at her cheeks from behind her camera.
Making our way down back to the track, I use the towel given to each of us and wipe away as much of the sticky liquid as I can. Nik and Ryder break off to head back to their garage and Lawson pats me on the back as we weave through the crowd.
I spot the girls down towards our team garages and smile when Kinsley’s eyes lock on me. Her bright smile brings out my own and I wink.
“Jace!” A voice off to the side catches my attention and I slow down, motioning for Lawson to go ahead.
I freeze when I see the petite blonde standing a few feet away and whisper, “Oh my god.”
She smiles, tears pooling in her blue eyes. “Hey there, stranger.”
“Lily.” I huff out a laugh and open my arms as she closes the distance and wraps me in a tight hug. Pulling back I shake my head and squeeze her hand. “What are you doing here?”
“We’re visiting Harry’s family. We surprised his dad with tickets to the race for his birthday months ago. Thought I’d pop in to see an old friend.”
I look around the crowd spotting her husband with his father. I lift my hand and wave. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
She hums, watching me closely. “How are you?”
I smile. “Amazing. Everything is absolutely amazing.”
“How is she?”
My smile falters slightly and I squeeze her hand once more. “She’s Kinsley.”
She laughs, nodding. Harry calls out her name and she glances over her shoulder. “I better get back. Go celebrate. Give her a hug for me?”
“I will.” I pull her in for another hug and she squeezes tight. “Don’t let another eight years go by before I see you again, okay?”
“I promise.” She wipes away a rogue tear and smiles, waving goodbye as she walks over to her husband. I watch them disappear into the crowd and silently swear that no matter what, I won’t let even eight months go by before we see each other again.
Twisting back towards the garages, I spot Kinsley and close the distance. Cupping her jaw, I tilt her face up. “Hi, angel.”
“Hi,” she whispers before pressing up onto her toes for a quick kiss. “Your parents are still in the garage with the boys. They asked if they could have them over for a sleep over tonight.”
“God, I love my parents.”
She giggles when I pull her into my chest. “I’m taking that as a yes?”
“Hell yes.”
I may not have won the race, but I’ll celebrate winning this girl every night for the rest of my life.