CHAPTER FOUR
Asher
Five days later
“What are you most looking forward to this season?”
The question came from a curly-haired guy in round glasses who couldn’t have been much older than me.
I took a drink from my water bottle and set it aside. “Showing everyone what I’m capable of.”
Laughter rippled through the press conference at Forward Racing’s headquarters. I kept my expression deliberately serious, unwilling to let anyone doubt I meant it. I wouldn’t let them dismiss me just because I was new.
My gaze shifted to Ale, who gave me a barely perceptible nod and a smirk.
“Do you think you’ll be the next Sergio Williams?” A blond journalist’s glossed lips curved into a smug smile. Pressure crushed my chest, and cold sweat trickled down my back. I’d known these questions were inevitable, but I hadn’t expected them to rattle me this much.
I feared I’d never measure up to Dad, but she didn’t need to know that. No one did. Instead, I faked indifference and leveled her with a don’t-fuck-with-me stare. “I’m his son. It’s only fair to be as good, right?”
Chuckles rolled through the room again. I glanced at my watch. The conference was winding down, and relief swept through me when the team’s PR manager called it to a close.
I pushed my chair back and stood. Ethan Brooks, the team’s other racer, straightened beside me. He was six inches shorter, blond-haired, blue-eyed.
We hadn’t spoken yet, though the articles had already speculated about our future rivalry. On the track, sure—but I had no intention of fueling it off of it.
“You did well for a rookie,” he said.
Annoyance coiled in me. “A rookie wouldn’t get signed, but thanks.”
Surprise flickered across his face, quickly masked by a clap on my shoulder before he stalked off toward a group of guys by the door.
Ale walked over. “Ready to go?”
Not even close. I needed a shower and a full night’s sleep—luxuries I hadn’t had since arriving—but skipping the team’s welcome dinner wasn’t an option.
“Yeah.” I grabbed my phone from the table, shoved it into my pocket, then slipped into my black parka. “How did I do?”
Ale sighed. “Fine. But—”
“I’ll tone it down for my image, I know.” I rolled my eyes as we headed out.
We bypassed a small knot of journalists in the foyer and stepped out of the building into the freezer otherwise known as Stetbourg in November.
“And then they say Madrid is cold.” Ale buttoned his coat.
I grimaced. “I’d rather be there. Or anywhere else. Anywhere but here.”
“Should’ve thought it through before signing.” Ale opened the door of his Lexus for me. “Now it’s too late, so don’t whine.”
He was one of the few people who could be unapologetically honest with me. Ale always acted with my best interests at heart; that’s why he got away with almost anything.
He slid behind the wheel and cranked the engine. A blast of warm air hit me, and I sagged against the seat, covering a yawn with my palm.
“I meant it,” Ale said as he pulled out of the lot. “You did fine. But don’t antagonize anyone before you’ve got a few wins under your belt. Watch your father’s interviews—he handled any situation with tact.”
“Maybe I didn’t take after him.” I rubbed my hands over my face. “It pisses me off they talk to me like that, like they expect me to fail before my first race just because I’m new.”
Ale changed lanes and stopped at a red light. “Wait until your first loss. They were nice today.”
He wasn’t telling me anything I didn’t already know, but my mood still nosedived. It was already shit—I missed Spain and had to witness Russell and my mother’s PDA more times than I cared to count since I’d arrived.
How the hell did Kaia put up with seeing them together?
“I won’t bitch. Sorry.” I closed my eyes as Ale resumed driving.
“Tranquilo.” His tone softened. “It’ll get better.”
***
At the restaurant, I spent more time watching people kiss Russell’s ass than eating.
Ethan tried talking to me a few times, but I kept it short.
Ale noticed but said nothing. Unlike me, he was a people person.
He laughed, charmed, and networked while I counted the minutes until I could get out—even though Russell’s house didn’t feel like home.
“I’ll get some air,” I told Ale during the lull between main course and dessert.
He nodded, already back in conversation with the team’s PR guy, while I slipped out of the dining hall.
Three men lingered in the foyer. I spotted Ethan instantly—blond hair, red-and-gold uniform. He stood with his back to me, and I hesitated. Maybe Ale was right. Maybe I should make an effort. Dad would’ve. Racing was about individual results, but getting along with my teammate couldn’t hurt.
I took a step toward him.
“Everyone gushes about the rookie,” Ethan said, stopping me cold. “But that’s only because of his father. The son still has to prove himself. I watched some videos. He isn’t ready.”
Weight pressed down on my chest and legs.
The rookie. Of course. But if I was nothing, why did I threaten him at all? A seasoned racer four years older shouldn’t be worried about me.
“His father was excellent,” an older guy in a navy sweater added. “But that fall… rookie mistake, if you ask me. Some blamed the bike, but no. As a mechanic, I can tell you—it was on him.”
“I’d never lose the rear like that,” Ethan said.
Another man clicked his tongue. “Anyone can highside. Remember last season?”
The rest blurred into static. My pulse thundered in my ears. Dad, a rookie mistake? They had no clue what they were talking about.
I spun on my heel and rushed back to the table before Ethan or the others noticed me.
“That was fast.” Ale studied me as I dropped into the chair beside him. “You’re pale. Everything all right?”
I swallowed, the overheard words still wrecking me. “Just tired.”
A waiter slid dessert in front of me. I forked a piece of chocolate cake, but as soon as it hit my tongue, an image of Kaia with her birthday cake filled my mind. This dinner was bullshit. I’d rather be home with her.
As if sensing I’d been thinking about his daughter, Russell met my gaze from across the room for the first time.
He’d kept his distance, and I was more than okay with that.
I didn’t need anyone knowing he was my mother’s boyfriend—though I wasn’t na?ve enough to believe it would stay a secret for long.
When dinner ended, I said goodbye to him and the rest of the team’s management before following Ale to his car.
The drive was silent, which would’ve been fine if my brain hadn’t used the quiet to replay Ethan’s words about Dad.
As we neared Russell’s neighborhood, Ale drummed his fingers on the wheel. “You sure nothing happened? You’ve barely said a word.”
He knew me too well. And while we usually talked about everything racing-related, I’d only ever mentioned Dad’s accident in passing. Ale never pushed, probably sensing it was a raw subject.
Invisible bands of iron tightened across my ribs. I cleared my throat. “I overheard Ethan and some guys talking about my father. They said his accident was a rookie mistake.”
Ale scoffed. “Oh yeah? Brooks would know. He totaled two bikes last season.”
“They’re right.” I stared at the traffic beyond the windshield. “I know it, you know it, and apparently everyone else does too.”
Ale shrugged. “So what? Rookie mistake or not, your father was the best. No racer’s ever achieved as much, as fast. They run their mouths because they’re jealous.”
“What if something was wrong with the bike?” The words slipped out before I could swallow them—the suspicion I’d never voiced until now. Anyone could make a mistake, but Dad had been one of the most sensible people I knew, on and off the track.
Ale slowed at Russell’s gate and cut the engine. “They’d have known. His mechanic, at the very least.”
He was right. Still, what I’d overheard had shaken loose the doubts I’d buried after the funeral.
That was the last time I saw Miguel, Dad’s mechanic.
He’d been Dad’s closest friend, the nearest thing I had to an uncle—but after Dad died, he pulled away, stopped answering my calls.
Maybe he’d thought it was weird to talk to his friend’s kid.
But I wasn’t a kid anymore. Maybe I should try again.
“Ash.”
Ale’s sympathetic gaze landed on me. I shifted my focus to the seat belt clasp. “Estoy bien.”
“You sure?”
I freed myself and yanked the door open. “Sí. Gracias. See you tomorrow.”
Ale waited while I unlocked the gates with my card. As soon as I stepped onto the driveway, the Lexus’s engine rumbled back to life.
I let myself into the house. It was silent at almost eleven. My mother must’ve gone out, and relief washed through me at the thought of being alone.
Kicking off my shoes and sliding them onto the rack, I caught the faint shuffle of movement. I followed the sound to the kitchen and froze in the arched doorway. Despite the cold outside, the air felt hot and thick. My heartbeat skittered the way it always did before a race.
Kaia sat at the table in a tiny gray T-shirt that barely brushed her ribs and black shorts clinging to her curves.
She highlighted something in a notebook with a focused frown, then set the pink marker aside and rubbed her forehead. I needed to let her know I was here before she caught me staring like a creep.
“Hi,” I said.
Her head snapped up, eyes wide. “Asher. I didn’t think you’d be home so early.”
I leaned my forearm on the doorframe. “It’s almost eleven. What are you doing up?”
Kaia snorted. “Isn’t it obvious? Having the time of my life studying for the PSATs.” She yawned and stretched, the gray shirt riding up another inch, baring skin so smooth I wanted to touch it.
I looked away fast. Shit. What the fuck was I thinking? She was…
Beautiful. Smart. Funny.
Russell’s daughter.
“How was the presentation with the team?”
I cleared my throat, forcing my focus onto Kaia’s words instead of the thoughts I couldn’t afford. “Good. How’s studying?”
She shut her textbook with a sigh. “Could be better. I don’t think I’m made for math. Do you know when my father will be home?”
“No clue. Why?”
She scooped up her highlighters and shoved them into a case. “I need to talk to him. Grill&Go asked me to work an extra shift tomorrow. If I don’t text Cynthia in the morning, she’ll give it to someone else.”
“You work?” She hadn’t mentioned a job when we ate cake in her room, and my mother hadn’t either. Then again, we rarely talked about anything real.
“Why so surprised?” Kaia asked, stacking books and notebooks “I’m saving for a car. I’m fed up with relying on your mom to drive me. No offense.”
I pushed off the door and crossed to the table. “Nothing to be offended by,” I said, sitting across from her. “Can’t your father just buy you a car?”
Her scoff told me exactly what she thought of that.
She tugged out her ponytail, sliding the elastic onto her wrist. Silky hair spilled over her slim shoulders, the watermelon scent drifting across the table. Same shampoo she’d used when we were kids.
“He could, but he won’t. Even if he did, it’d mean he could take it away whenever he wanted. If I pay for it, it’s mine. Your mom says she doesn’t mind driving me, but I know she’d rather do anything else. She went out with a friend tonight, in case you’re wondering where she is.”
I wasn’t. Not really. We’d barely spoken since I got here—too busy, too different. Five years apart made living together awkward. We weren’t the same people anymore. She might want to fix things, but they’d never go back to how they were before Dad died.
I started to tell Kaia some version of that, but the front door opened. Resolute footsteps echoed in the foyer.
Kaia stiffened as Russell filled the doorway. “If you’re still up, it better be because you’re studying,” he said, gaze cutting from her to me. His cold eyes lingered as if he’d caught me doing something far worse than talking to his daughter.
“I was studying,” Kaia said, her voice small. “I was also waiting for you. Cynthia told me they need someone for the evening shift tomorrow. I’d like to take it.”
Russell folded his arms across his chest. “I’d like you to have better grades, but wanting something isn’t enough. Should I remind you of your priorities? Last year’s results were embarrassing. Working when you’re lucky enough to have everything you need is a waste of time.”
Anger twisted through me. My jaw locked, teeth grinding as I fought to keep it in. What an asshole. First he forgot her birthday, and now this? It wasn’t like she’d asked to go to a party on a school night.
Kaia’s cheeks flushed red. Her chin trembled as she slid off the stool. Wordless, she gathered her things while Russell watched with narrowed eyes. The confident girl I’d been talking to seconds ago seemed to shrink before him—sad, timid.
“And Kaia,” he said as she scurried toward the stairs, clutching her books to her chest.
“Yes?” she whispered.
“It’s not just the three of us in this house anymore. Make sure you wear something more appropriate.”