Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
RYDER
Fallon steps onto the tarmac of the pit lane when I pull in with his Radical RXC. Driving cars on a track, whether it’s dirt or paved, has always given me a rush, and this time is no different. I remove my helmet when I get out of the car and shake out my sweat-soaked hair.
“How’d it feel?”
I unzip the coverall, letting it hang low on my hips. “Traction isn’t the best, but otherwise drives pretty well.”
I could have told him it was the most amazing car ever, and he would still buy a new one in a week. It’s just how Fallon is made. Sometimes I wonder, if I was as wealthy as him, would I be the same? Spending money left and right, never settling on one thing. Never happy.
“Thanks for letting me drive it.”
I pull off my gloves. My watch lets me know Elizabeth should be arriving soon.
“Can you do me a favor?” I ask him.
He sweeps a hand through his hair when a gust of wind skews it sideways.
“Always.”
However I say it, I’m going to sound like a dick. Fallon used to make Elizabeth uncomfortable. He was always watching her at the Fields or at parties. Called her Kitten . She told me on more than one occasion that he acted strangely around her. I want her to feel at ease today and have fun without him making things weird.
I could never pinpoint exactly when he started obsessing over her. Around sixth grade, maybe? Perhaps it’s because Elizabeth was the only girl who never showed any interest in him. Maybe he thought she was a challenge. Who knows? But he never made a move on her because he knew I loved her.
“Elizabeth is on her way, and I don’t want you to freak her out.”
As soon as I mention her name, he stands up straighter, his eyes get brighter. He’s not so relaxed anymore.
“You tracked her down?”
I’m surprised he didn’t.
“Yeah. We found her.”
“And?”
“And she has amnesia. She doesn’t remember anything.”
Out of all the reactions I expected, his hysterical laughter is not one of them.
“What the fuck, Fal?” I glower at him.
Those pale-blue eyes look at me, tears of mirth making them appear almost clear in the afternoon sun.
“Oh, that’s just fucking awesome. She seriously has no memory? Like none?”
Getting pissed, I shake my head no.
“I bet Jay has lost his freaking mind. Am I right? Oh, yeah. I’m right.” He laughs again. “This is good, no?”
I punch his shoulder. “What the hell do you mean good ? Her life is a blank. It’s nothing to be happy about. Her doctors don’t know if she’ll regain even partial memory. She’s starting from scratch. We’re all starting from scratch.”
“But that should be a good thing.”
Is it?
Before I can respond to what he said, a text from Elizabeth pops up.
“She just arrived. Please don’t be here when we come back. We’ve already scared the crap out of her once this week.”
“What—”
I cut him off. “I’ll explain later.”
Fallon holds his hands up in supplication and walks backward to his car. “Tell Kitten I said hi,” he says, getting in.
With a power slide and a hand salute out the window, he drives off toward the exit.
Me: On my way. Will meet you out front.
Elizabeth: So excited!
Me too.
Heading inside through the back, I find Elizabeth waiting for me at the glass entryway doors. She’s bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, her excitement palpable. I take her in from head to toe. She’s wearing yoga pants and a tank top, and her long hair is twisted in a low bun at the nape of her neck. Elizabeth has always taken my breath away, and today is no different. She sees me and rushes over, throwing her arms around me. She still smells like jasmine.
“Thank you for inviting me. I’ve been looking forward to today all week.” She pulls back from her hug. “Drew and Daniel want pictures and videos.”
“They aren’t worried about you driving on a racetrack?”
“Compared to what I’ve been through, this is nothing. They want me to experience every new thing I can. Including today. So, where do we start?”
“First, we need to get you a helmet and coveralls. Just to be on the safe side, I would also like for you to wear a HANS device to protect your head and neck. You might find the HANS a little cumbersome, but you’ll soon get used to it. Come on.” I take her to a counter where an older woman is flipping through a catalog. “Hey, Georgia. This is Elizabeth, the girl I told you about.”
Georgia looks up, and her wrinkled eyes crinkle. “Oh, my. Ryder, you never said how pretty she was. You are just a looker, aren’t you, darlin’?”
“Thank you,” Elizabeth politely replies, holding her hand out in greeting.
“I’ve got the perfect helmet and coveralls for ya, darlin’. They’re pink and everything. You’ll love them.”
“Could you grab her a HANS device as well?”
While we wait for Georgia to return, Elizabeth takes the time to scan the building we’re in. Car paraphernalia, clothing, gloves, helmets, anything and everything a fan of racing would want, is stacked, piled, placed, and hung throughout.
“Do a lot of women come here?” Elizabeth asks.
“Believe it or not, more than you’d think. They do private and group lessons, public event days where anyone can bring their own car and drive it around the track. They also host race nights which are big with the locals. Then there’s the professional circuit races that happen here twice a year.”
“How long have you been racing?”
It’s weird talking to her like we’re meeting for the first time and getting to know each other. For her, we are.
“Since I could reach the gas and brake pedals. Dad taught me. You used to come out with us a lot and would passenger in the back.”
Her smile turns effulgent. “We must have had a lot of great times.”
“The best.”
“I always wondered why I was so drawn to my red Hellcat. I saw it and knew I had to have it. Is yours here?”
I thumb over my shoulder. “It’s out by the track.”
“I can’t wait to see it. I have a feeling the pictures you showed me don’t do it justice.”
Georgia comes out and hands Elizabeth a bright pink helmet and matching coveralls which Elizabeth gushes over, saying they’re the most awesome things in the world. After she finishes filling out a lot of liability paperwork, I thank Georgia and escort Elizabeth outside to get her car.
“Wait. Don’t I have to pay or something?”
“Already taken care of. All you have to do is have fun.”
“Thank you so much, Ryder.”
She goes up on tiptoe and presses a kiss to my cheek. It’s completely innocent, but my body reacts quite differently.
“I’m over there,” she says.
We approach the shiny red Hellcat that I saw in her apartment’s parking lot. Her car looks exactly like mine, except for the paint color. Same exterior mods and all. I’m curious to see the inside.
“This is gorgeous.”
She runs her hand over the hood. “Thank you. This is Stella.”
She jumps when I say a little too enthusiastically, “You named your car Stella?”
“Yes. Why?”
“Elizabeth, you named my car Stella.”
Her mouth forms the cutest O . “You’re shitting me.”
“Swear to god. You really did. And I quote: ‘A sexy name for a sexy car.’”
She throws back her head and lets out a gorgeously vibrant laugh. “Jesus Christ, Ryder. You’ve been living in my brain this entire time. Why is it that you’re the one person I can remember in any capacity?”
That’s a great question. Is it just random coincidence or something more? Why me and not Jay?
“Let’s get you suited up.”
I’m still wearing my racing gear, so I have her slip on the coveralls and help adjust the pink helmet on her head. I fix the bulky HANS device across her shoulders and clip it into the helmet. She watches my eyes closely the entire time. The focus she has on me is a bit unnerving and adds to the already heightened senses her cheek kiss ignited.
“I really like your eyes. You have a bit of green mixed in with the light brown and yellow.”
I force my feet to take a step back before I do something really stupid—like kiss her.
After making some final adjustments to her helmet, I put on my own.
“Ready?”
Full grin. “Oh, yeah. But this thing makes it hard to turn my head.”
“That’s the point. Extra precautions because of your head injury.”
She tests her range of motion and smiles. “That’s very considerate of you. I promise not to complain anymore about it.”
She slips into the driver’s seat, and I get in the opposite side. She has bucket seats similar to mine. Hers are black with a red stripe down the middle that matches the exterior paint color. Her dash is different, but mine is a custom job I did myself using swirled steel.
It takes a while for Elizabeth to get comfortable.
“Okay. I’m ready.”
I hand her some gloves.
“Did you remember to bring the red key I texted you about?”
Our models of Hellcat have different functionalities depending on which key is used.
Elizabeth holds it up. “I left the black one at home.”
“Good. Okay, first, turn the engine on, then hit the Track button on your menu screen.”
Once she does that, I show her how to fully turn off her traction control.
“Is that it?” she asks.
“Yep, you’re good to go. You’ll want to drive through that open gate over there.” I point the direction. “Keep in mind that your car will now have a bit more power than you’re used to. The first part of the course is a straightaway, so you can let her go as fast as you’re comfortable with. Then I’ll teach you how to drift.”
We drive through the gate and onto the track.
“This is going to be awesome.”
I can feel her enthusiasm. It’s contagious.
“All right,” she says, shifting into first gear, while applying the brake. “Here we go!”
She stomps on the gas, drops the handbrake, and does a few wheel spins before her tires find some grip. Once they do, we speed off down the straightaway. I watch how she handles the car, her hand positions on the steering wheel perfect, her reaction times excellent, her shifting from one gear to the next smooth. Could her brain subconsciously recall all the times she was with me in the car watching me do the same things? She never drove like this before, and I’m utterly fascinated by it.
Elizabeth keeps the gas pedal down until the car reaches a hundred miles per hour. She lets out a whoop and slows down to a steady fifty.
“Ready to try drifting?”
“Hell yes. Bring it on.”
“There’s a wide part of the track coming up in about a tenth of a mile. Drop your speed down until you’re going about twenty miles per hour. What you’re going to do when you approach the corner is to come in wide and turn the wheel sharply. As you turn, gradually add power with the accelerator until you feel the back tires start to slide. When that happens, you’ll want to ease off the throttle a tiny bit and turn your steering wheel in the opposite direction. Keep your grip on the wheel steady. Once you’re in the drift, use the steering wheel to point where you want to go, and use the throttle to adjust how much you want the car to slide out. When you want to come out of the drift, ease the throttle again until the back wheels come back into a forward alignment. We can try it as many times as you need. No pressure and don’t rush it. And don’t worry if you spin the car because, trust me, you will until you get the hang of it. Got it?”
She dissolves into giggles. “No.”
“Shit. Sorry. That was a lot.”
“How about I learn as I go?”
Flying down the track, her face scrunches in concentration. She rolls her shoulders a few times and re-grips the steering wheel.
“Okay, tell me what to do.”
“See the curve up ahead? Drop your speed to twenty. Get ready to brake hard and turn…now!”
She listens and follows my instructions, never once complaining or getting upset when it doesn’t happen right away. Some drifts aren’t pretty, and one time, I think we’re going to fly off the course into the side barrels. By the seventh lap, she has it.
“Atta girl!”
Without seeing them, I already know her tires will need replacing. Drifting tends to shred the rubber to pieces. It completely slipped my mind, and I feel bad for the oversight. We should have used my car.
I send a quick text to Fallon.
Me: Any chance you could get four new tires for Elizabeth’s Hellcat sent to the track in the next hour? I’ll pay you back.
He responds immediately.
Fallon: They’ll be there in thirty. And fuck off about paying me back.
Me: Thanks.
I smile when he sends me a middle finger emoji.
“Pull in,” I tell her.
She veers into the pit lane and puts the car into neutral, letting the engine idle.
Elizabeth’s grin is a mile wide. “That. Was. Amazing!” she exclaims and tries to turn her head, but the HANS prevents the movement.
She bursts out laughing at herself, and my heart does a Grinch where it grows two sizes larger at the sound.
“Your turn,” she says.
“You want me to drive your car?”
Her eyes sparkle with excitement. “I want to see what you can do.”
No way am I going to pass up that invitation.