CHAPTER FIFTY
Asher
El Puerto de Santa María, Spain
Late-June afternoon rays warmed my face, waking me from a nap. I tossed my arm over my eyes, rolled onto my stomach, and buried my face in the pillow.
I hadn’t slept this much in forever. Back then, I had better things to do.
Racing. Kaia.
Now I had nothing.
I was at Grandma’s because I had nowhere else to go. Ale had traveled with me, but he was off visiting his family, taking a break he’d earned. I stayed here, stewing in failure, crushed by losing the only girl I’d ever loved and ashamed of letting my dad down.
Ale moved mountains but couldn’t land me a team.
Rumor said someone had spread the word I wasn’t reliable.
My money was on Ethan—or Russell, still pissed I refused to keep racing for him.
I’d been his ticket to a world championship.
Now he’d have to pin his hopes on Ethan and whoever filled my spot.
Not my fucking problem.
“Asher.”
Grandma knocked once and came in before I could pretend to be asleep.
Her jasmine perfume drifted through the room. She strode to the window, yanked open the curtains, and more sunlight poured over me. I groaned.
“Come on.” She nudged my arm. “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s sit in the courtyard and chat.”
Chat. She’d run out of patience. I’d been here nearly ten days and barely spoken to her. Now that school was out and she was on summer break, my excuses had run dry.
“Five minutes,” I grumbled.
“No.”
I cracked an eye. “No?”
Grandma sighed, bracing her hands on her hips. “You’ve had days. You’ve slept more than I’ve ever seen, and you barely eat. Get your ass out of bed. We’re talking.”
No point arguing. I sat up, rubbed my shoulder. It still ached sometimes—a reminder of one more fuckup.
“Te molesta?” Grandma asked. Did it bother me? Everything fucking did.
“No.” I shoved my feet into black flip-flops and pulled on a white shirt.
She led me to the courtyard, where a table waited in the shade of a fig tree.
A pitcher of sangria. Plates of Serrano ham and cheese. Fresh bread.
Too bad my appetite had vanished.
Grandma poured two glasses, slid one to me. “Salud, mi nino. Por ti.”
There was nothing to cheer about. I took a sip of the fruity wine and forced down a bite of bread so the weak drink wouldn’t hit me too fast.
Her gaze pressed on me. “Why are you here?”
I swallowed. “Fed up with me already?”
“Kind of.” She winked, sipping her sangria. “But that’s not why I asked. Can you blame me for worrying? First the accident. Now this.” She gestured at me like my whole sorry state explained itself.
I looked like shit, sure. But still.
“I’m more perceptive than you give me credit for.”
No lie there. She’d always been scarily good at reading me.
“Nothing went the way I wanted.” I traced aimless shapes on my glass. “The injury cut my season short. Ale couldn’t land me another team.”
And my mother’s new husband had blackmailed me into leaving his daughter.
Smirking, Grandma reached into her pocket. “I was doing your laundry. This fell out of your pants.”
She set something on the table, and I nearly choked. “Abuela, joder.”
It was the tiny picture of Kaia I always kept in my wallet.
I’d taken it after our first time—her smiling, flushed, wrapped in a white sheet.
The sheet wasn’t in the shot, just her bare shoulders and that radiant face.
She’d looked so beautiful I hadn’t been able to stop myself. I’d wanted to keep that moment forever.
“Who’s she?” Grandma asked.
“That’s Kaia. Russell’s daughter.”
“And your reason to sink,” she said knowingly.
“My reason to live.”
She nudged the photo back to me. “What happened?”
“Her father found out.” I ran my thumb over the edge of the picture. “Said he’d cut her off if I didn’t leave. So I did. I couldn’t let her lose her shot at college. Russell’s toxic. He treats her like shit. She needs school to build a future away from him.”
Grandma scoffed. “Why would it bother him that you two are together?”
I pocketed the photo. Looking at her hurt too much. Memories were all I had, and they weren’t enough.
“Guess because he knew he’d marry my mother eventually, and it didn’t look good. It killed me to leave, but Kaia loved me enough she would’ve chosen me no matter what.”
Memories of our last kiss surged, tearing open the hole in my chest wider.
“Did you tell her the truth?”
I shook my head. “She wouldn’t take his money then. Wouldn’t study. I just said I had to move away because Ale couldn’t find me a team.”
Grandma folded and unfolded the corner of a napkin. “So, what now?”
“I don’t know.” I took a long swallow of sangria. “I came here because I’m so fucking lost, and I don’t know what to do.”
She reached across the table and patted my hand. “You came to the right place. But you’ve always kept things to yourself. Your father was the same. I know you don’t want to worry the people who love you, but we worry anyway. You haven’t been yourself for months. Dawson noticed. So did Ale.”
“And they told you?”
“Not like I gave them a choice.”
I tipped my head back at the cloudless sky. “I hoped being here would help.”
“But you can’t run from yourself.” Her smile turned sad. “If changing places doesn’t fix it, maybe it’s not the place that needs changing. Kaia needs school, something of her own. But if you love each other, no one can take that from you.”
I brushed crumbs off the table with my fingertips. “They already did.”
“Nonsense.” She flicked her hand. “Once she’s older, in college, no one can tell her who to love. You don’t need permission to do what’s right for you.”
If only it were that easy. “And what future would I give her? I don’t even have a team.”
“Asher, mi nino, that girl didn’t fall in love with the future. She fell in love with you. What makes you think you’re supposed to have it all figured out at twenty-two? Besides, didn’t you say she has dreams, too? You can build anything together.”
She slid the plate of ham and cheese toward me. “Eat. You can’t survive on water and angst.”
“Water and angst?” A laugh slipped out before I could stop it.
Grandma refilled her glass with sangria. “By the way, she’s gorgeous. You make a beautiful couple.”
I popped a slice of ham into my mouth. “I told her we’d have beautiful kids.”
“Before or after you took her to bed?”
“During, I think.”
She swatted me, rolling her eyes. “A true Williams.”
I raised my hands. “No. Don’t go there. I don’t want to know.”
Her smile faded. “Jokes aside, I meant it. You’re welcome here. This is your home. But if these walls don’t heal you, don’t be afraid to admit you need help.”
I nodded. Too much to process, too little energy to think.
But I ate—for the first time in days.
***
I almost skipped the presentation of the new VoltaForge bike, but Ale would’ve lost it if I missed a networking chance—and he’d be right. I couldn’t hide and lick my wounds forever, not when I needed to remind people I was still relevant.
The hotel in Jerez buzzed with bike enthusiasts, media, and industry pros. After the rep droned through features and specs, I made small talk with a few guys I knew, then retreated to the wall with a glass of champagne.
A tall guy studied the bike displayed on its platform. He rubbed his chin, glanced at the screen flashing specs, then scanned the room like he was hunting for someone to answer his questions. Everyone else was too busy snapping pictures or schmoozing to notice him.
I decided to put him out of his misery.
“Thinking of buying it?” I asked, stepping closer.
He arched a brow. “Can’t decide. Would it work in the city? I showed up late and missed the talk.”
“The frame’s lightweight, chassis is narrow,” I said. “Easy to weave through traffic. Suspension’s solid.”
“Yeah. That’d help in Ellingworth. Traffic’s insane there.”
Ellingworth—close to Stetbourg. Small world.
“So you’re from Ellingworth?” I asked. “I used to live in Stetbourg.”
His gaze sharpened. “Wait. You’re Asher Williams. Forward Racing, right?”
“Wow.” I chuckled. “Didn’t think anyone would recognize me. Should’ve worn shades.”
His deep laugh carried above the buzz of voices and music. “Sorry for blowing your cover. I’m Emrys Delano. Please, call me Rys.”
I clasped his hand, then paused. “Delano Hotels…?”
“My business? Well, my father’s and mine. Ever stayed at one?”
My chest clenched with a rush of nostalgia and tenderness. “Spent the best night of my life in one.”
Rys’s smile spread wide. “Glad to hear it. We’re building one here, near El Puerto de Santa María.”
“That’s nice.”
Comfortable silence stretched between us, but Rys didn’t rush off.
We stood shoulder to shoulder, watching people circle the bike.
He asked what it felt like to race at two hundred miles an hour, if fear ever crept in before the lights went out.
I asked how he handled running a hotel empire in his twenties.
He admitted he still second-guessed himself, that half the time he felt like he was winging it. I laughed because it sounded a lot like racing—pretending you knew exactly what you were doing while praying you didn’t crash.
Somewhere between the jokes and confessions, I realized I liked him. Not just polite-conversation liked him—actually liked him. He was sharp, but easy. No posturing, no ego trip. Just a guy who carried a lot but didn’t flaunt it.
He checked his watch with a wince. “I’ve got another commitment tonight, but I can show you the property tomorrow if you’re free.”
“Sure,” I said.
He slipped a hand into his blazer, pulled out a business card, and scribbled on the back with an ink pen. “My personal cell. Call me when you’re free tomorrow. I’ll be at the hotel all day.”
I tucked it into my pocket. “Will do.”