CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Asher
From: asher_williams@
To: miguelhrodr@
Subject: previous email
Hi, Miguel
Did you get my email? Hope you’re doing OK. Please respond if you read this. It’s important.
Asher
It felt like begging. Weeks had passed since my first email, and here I was, drafting another despite Miguel’s silence.
I leaned back in my chair and glanced around Vivo Gusto, the small Italian place I’d picked for my birthday lunch with Mom.
Photos of Italian landmarks dotted the dark gray walls, and clusters of customers filled the mismatched tables.
From the kitchen door drifted bursts of Italian chatter.
Dad would’ve loved this spot—cozy, family-owned, authentic.
I sipped water to keep from drowning in memories of him and closed the email app.
I’d promised myself three emails to Miguel, then I’d let it go. Still, hope lingered that he might reply. He used to care about Dad. About me. How could someone just forget?
The restaurant door opened, ushering in a gust of December air. Mom stepped inside, her red lips curving into a smile the instant she spotted me.
I rose as she reached the table. “Happy birthday,” she said, hugging me. For a moment, the sweet scent of her perfume pulled me back to childhood, but I wasn’t a kid anymore. Nothing was the same.
I pulled out her chair. “Thanks. I haven’t ordered—I wasn’t sure what you wanted.”
“Can you smell this?” She sniffed the air. “I want whatever smells that good.”
“Guess you’ll have to be more specific,” I teased as the server approached. We settled on pasta—carbonara for her, arrabbiata for me.
After the waiter poured red wine and left, she raised her glass. “To your twenty-first.”
“Thank you.”
We drank. Mom set her goblet down and gave me the same look she used to when I was little—the one that always saw through me. “How are you? I barely see you at home.”
“I’m okay. Training’s going great, in case you wanted to know.”
She twirled her glass, expression pensive. “Of course, I want to know. It hurts me that you think I don’t care.”
A sigh escaped me. “Mom, don’t pretend you like what I do.”
She gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Fine. You know I never wanted this life for you. You could’ve gotten a degree and chosen something that doesn’t put your life in danger. But you’re an adult—I can’t make you quit.”
“Yeah, too late for that. Speaking of racing, do you remember Miguel?”
Her hand reached for her wine, then stilled. A frown pinched her lips. “Your father’s friend?”
“Yes. I’ve been trying to reach him, but he ignores my emails. Any idea why?”
She folded a corner of her napkin. “How should I know? And why would you reach out? It’s been years. I don’t even know where he is now.”
“I don’t either, but we used to be close. It’s strange he just vanished.”
The server set down our plates. Mom immediately forked into hers, as if eating fast enough would keep me from asking more questions.
“Don’t you think it’s odd someone so close to Dad wouldn’t even wonder how his family is doing?” I pressed.
She tucked her hair behind her ear with another shrug. “People change. Sometimes they just move on. Maybe it’s time you did too. Your dad would’ve wanted that.”
“Guess we’ll never know what he’d want.” I picked up my fork, appetite gone.
“Don’t get defensive,” Mom said, covering my free hand with hers. “Every mother wants her child happy, and you don’t seem to be. I worry about you.”
I stabbed my pasta. “Worry about Kaia instead. She needs it way more than me. I’m fine.”
“Kaia doesn’t let her father in, let alone me.” Mom sighed. “And Russell has tried everything.”
Everything but listening to her. Being there when she needed him. She was lonely, and nobody seemed to notice—or care. Russell focused on making money while my mother dedicated herself to making him happy. Neither of them thought about anyone outside their bubble.
“Everything?” I arched a brow. Denial ran strong with both her and Russell. “When was the last time he even talked to her?”
“Asher,” she said, sighing. “Don’t meddle. Russell is her father. He knows her better than anyone. Besides. . .”
Her hesitation set me on edge. “Besides what?”
“I’m glad you’re getting along, but taking her out and bringing her home late isn’t right. She should focus on her studies. It matters to her father.”
My grip tightened around the fork. She cared about Russell’s feelings, but not Kaia’s. If I was honest, she stopped caring about mine the day Dad died.
***
Lunch with my mother didn’t mend anything—it only made it worse. I hadn’t expected her to object to me spending time with Kaia, but she clearly didn’t like it.
That night in Kaia’s room had brought us closer. I still remembered the warmth of her body against mine when I hugged her on the floor, the pull I’d fought not to kiss her. But Ale was right—I couldn’t risk hurting her. That’s why I took his advice and spent the last few days studying the offer.
It was the best I’d ever gotten, but the thought of leaving made me sick.
All those worries still weighed on me as I parked my bike in a quiet residential street where Ethan was hosting my birthday party, just like he’d promised. I tried to muster something like excitement, though I still wasn’t convinced this was a good idea.
Several cars lined the driveway of his small ranch-style house. I rang the bell, and the moment Ethan opened the door, techno music and laughter spilled out.
“Welcome, champ.” He stepped aside, gesturing me in. “Everyone’s already here. We’ve been waiting for you.”
I ignored the nickname I hated and followed him to the living room. A few people stood chatting with drinks in hand, while a cluster of guys lounged on the couch, girls in short dresses perched on their laps.
The only face I recognized was Hugh, Ethan’s crew chief. Twenty years younger than Dawson, he’d been with the team six years. The few times we’d talked, he’d come across as friendly—less fake than Ethan.
“What’s up?” I said, stepping closer.
Hugh nodded. “Asher. Happy birthday. How’s it going?”
“Thanks. Not bad.”
He shifted over, making room, and I dropped onto the cushion beside him.
“Excited for the season?” he asked.
“Yeah. Can’t wait to race.”
A guy with a buzz cut on Hugh’s other side smirked. “Ethan said he left you behind on the track during training. Watch out. This is the big leagues now—you won’t have it easy.”
He left me behind? Only in his dreams. Lucky for him, I didn’t care enough to set the record straight.
“I’ll definitely need to be careful.” My eyes found Ethan. Red blotches covered his cheeks and neck, and his stiff posture confirmed he’d run his mouth, betting I’d never hear about it.
“Want a drink?” he asked evenly.
Could I trust him not to poison it? Hardly. “Yeah. Water’s fine.”
He barked a laugh. “Water? That how you party in Spain? You’re the baby here—we wouldn’t want to call your parents if you got wasted.”
My parents.
What a dick.
I glanced at my watch. “Fuck, Ethan. I gotta go. Almost forgot—my daycare’s throwing me a party tonight. See you at training, yeah? Can’t wait to lose again.”
The room went silent. Ignoring the stares, I pushed to my feet and strode past Ethan, who muttered something about me overreacting.
Dad used to say if something made me uncomfortable, I didn’t need another excuse to leave. I could’ve stayed and laughed it off, but my time was worth more than that. Ethan and I would never be friends.
Twenty minutes later, silence and darkness greeted me at Russell’s house. Everyone was already in bed. I slipped off my shoes, hung up my coat, and climbed the stairs.
I needed sleep after that disaster of a birthday, but when I flicked on the bedside lamp, adrenaline spiked.
A wrapped gift rested on the comforter. I sat and peeled back the dark blue paper to find a black T-shirt with Born to Win printed in small white letters.
Beneath it sat a box of tiny chocolate trophies.
?Feliz cumpleanos! Kaia, the card read.
My chest tightened. Of course she thought of me—cared enough to give me something even though I hadn’t celebrated at home. I pulled paper from the desk drawer and scrawled, Gracias, peque. Then I stepped into the hall and headed for her room.
I wanted to see her, to thank her face-to-face. A note wasn’t enough. She deserved more. But her light was off, and I couldn’t just walk in.
I slid the note under her door and stepped back. Just as I turned to leave, a soft click broke the quiet.
Kaia stood in the doorway, staring at me. “Ash?”
My pulse faltered at the sight of her in a short nightdress. She was beautiful—maybe even more tonight, or maybe I’d just missed her.
“Hi,” I whispered.
Her lips twitched, fighting a smile. “Come in.”
I crossed the threshold and shut the door behind me. Alone with her, my birthday finally felt like one. There was nothing I wanted more than to spend the rest of it here.
Kaia switched on the bedside lamp and bent to pick up my note from the floor. “So, you got my gift.”
“I did. Thank you.”
“It’s nothing.” She traced the two words I’d written.
Nothing? No one cared about me the way she did. “It’s everything,” I whispered.
The air shifted—intimate, dangerous. Our gazes tangled until she folded the paper and set it on her desk. “Did you celebrate?”
“Lunch with my mother, then a stop at my teammate’s house. Both disasters.”
“Why?” She stepped closer, her body moving beneath the thin fabric of her nightdress. One more step and I could touch her. Smell her. Feel her.
I couldn’t look away. Heat spread through me, and I swallowed hard. “He was just being an ass. I think he feels threatened.”
The corner of her mouth lifted. “Can’t say I’m surprised. You’re pretty great.”
Damn it. She couldn’t just say that—with that smile. The longer I stared, the more I wanted to—
Fuck it.
I pulled her to me. Her soft chest collided with mine, and a surprised gasp slipped from her pink lips. My hand cupped her cheek, thumb tracing the line of her jaw. When she tipped her face up, I couldn’t wait any longer.
Seconds before my lips touched hers, I already knew I was headed for a crash. An ugly one—the kind that left you broken on the tarmac, wondering how you’d been in control one moment and lost it the next.
One kiss could set me free or destroy me. I had to know.
My mouth brushed hers, gentle, tasting. The hand cradling her cheek slid around her neck, holding her close, while her fingers climbed my back. When she grazed the nape of my neck, goosebumps shot across my skin. I deepened the kiss, teasing the tip of her tongue with mine.
Kaia tugged my hair, and I angled my mouth over hers, devouring her as my other hand pressed into the small of her back, pulling her flush against me.
I couldn’t get enough. Her pulse fluttered beneath my thumb. I left her lips to trail down her neck, licking, biting softly until she whispered my name and clutched my shoulders.
Fuck. I was her first kiss. Selfishly, I wanted to be her only kiss.
I traced a path back up her throat and claimed her mouth again. This time she held my face, her tongue sliding against mine, dizzying me with want.
I wrapped her tight in my arms as we kissed. She fit against me perfectly, just like I’d known she would—and I hated the thought of letting her go.
Kaia’s palms moved across my back. I slid a hand over her hair—watermelon-scented, silk between my fingers.
“Mi nina,” I whispered against her mouth.
I leaned my forehead to hers, breathing slow, trying to steady myself. Our eyes held.
I wanted more. More kisses, more of her. That kiss felt like giving away a piece of myself, and I wanted her to keep it. Keep me.
A timid smile curved Kaia’s lips. She brushed my hair back, then pressed a soft kiss to my cheek. “Happy birthday, Ash.”