CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Asher
Tell me it’s a joke. Please, Ash.
Those words, those wet eyes—it fucking killed me to do this to her. I stared at the gloves in my hands. It was time to go out there, to race for the asshole who made me give up the only girl I’d ever loved, and I couldn’t make myself move.
“Asher.” Dawson stepped in front of me. “You need to hurry.”
The garage snapped into focus. Fuel and leather filled my nostrils.
I pulled on the gloves and fastened the helmet straps.
Vance, one of my mechanics, rolled my bike out. The engine thundered and the crew clapped, all smiles and nods as they cleared the way. They assumed I needed encouragement on this brutal Piermont track. I needed Kaia—her smile, her kiss.
My feet carried me to the bike, and I swung a leg over.
“Remember, focus on turn seven,” Dawson said, leaning close. I nodded. He hesitated, worry written on his face, then tapped the tank once.
Unsurprisingly, I was last to my spot on the grid.
We shot forward for the warm-up lap. I should have been checking brakes, reading the track, anticipating trouble. Instead my brain replayed every cruel, soulless thing I’d said to her.
We’d never lied to each other—except last night. I lied so she could finish high school with good grades and have a shot at her dream college. I lied so she could choose her own life without depending on Russell. I lied so years from now she wouldn’t wake up regretting the choice she made.
No matter how many times I told myself I’d done the right thing, her grief-stricken face haunted me. I’d promised never to leave her, and barely a week later I’d broken both our hearts.
My eyes burned behind the visor. Start line again. Time to race. Time to honor the name on my suit. Time to win for the fucker who didn’t deserve the amazing, kind-hearted daughter he had.
But he didn’t lose her—I did.
The lights flashed red. I willed my muscles to remember how to work. Dad used to say a lot depended on focus. All I could focus on was Kaia and what I’d done.
There was no fucking way I deserved victory. The thought hit sudden and absolute.
We launched. Ethan surged ahead.
Not for long, asshole.
I left him after the first corner, but the rush never came. I rode on autopilot, running on the little energy left after a sleepless night.
Did she sleep? Of course not. She’d spent the night crying, torn between calling me and hating me.
Another corner rushed up in a gray blur. I leaned in, but something wasn’t right.
The rear tire.
The throttle had opened too fast. Too fucking fast.
Heart thudding against my ribs, I rolled off the gas and shifted my weight.
The rear had to hook back up, or I’d…
No. Fuck no. I wasn’t Dad.
The bike snapped upright, as if punishing me for losing focus. For not thinking.
I let go. Everything blurred—the sky, the tarmac.
My body went airborne. Then my shoulder slammed into asphalt. My back followed.
Lungs collapsing, I clawed for a breath.
I tumbled; the world spun.
Pain speared my chest.
My vision tunneled. Tear-filled blue eyes—Kaia’s.
Tell me it’s a joke, Ash.
Black crept into my field of view. I didn’t try to fight it.