Chapter 34
Chapter Thirty-Four
ELIZABETH
The Fields
It doesn’t matter how many times I come here, I still get a thrill watching the races at the Fields.
Even though Ryder bought the land from Mr. Jacoby’s grandson and converted it into a proper motocross track, he left the part of the Fields where he used to race untouched, keeping the tradition of Friday night races alive.
And tonight, Christopher is going to show everyone once again that he is just as talented behind the wheel as his father.
Electricity pulses in the air like a living thing with the expectation of what’s to come. Excited bystanders waiting for the races to begin mill around the cars to check out the engines and mods. All of it wraps around me like a familiar old song.
Headlights swing like a spotlight as Elijah parks beside me.
Julien hops out of the passenger side and pops up onto the tailgate of the truck I’m sitting on.
Since Christopher has my car, I decided to drive the old Chevy NAPCO 4x4.
A few years after we were married, Ryder came across it in a junkyard when he was searching for parts.
Snatched it right up and restored it to its original beauty.
We’d take it out to the lake at night and make love under the stars.
Julien nudges my side. “Why aren’t you in the thick of it with the kids?”
“It’s their thing now,” I comment.
The truck bed groans under our combined weight when Elijah joins us. “You make us sound like dinosaurs. We’re not that old.”
Maybe not old, but changed. Seasons shift, years go by, and life trundles forward whether we want it to or not.
I’ve spent more Friday nights than I can count in this very spot.
Back then, it was me, Ryder, Jayson, and Julien, four best friends with a wide-open future stretching ahead of us like an endless road of possibilities.
A part of me feels the poignant ache of those carefree days.
The thrill and the rush of adrenaline before a race—but it’s theirs now.
Nostalgia is a cruel thing. It creeps up on you when you least expect it and reminds you of what was, what could have been, what should have been, and—I run a hand over the glossy metal of the truck bed—what you don’t have anymore.
“Where’s Nicholas?” I ask. I didn’t see him in the crowd with everyone else.
“Party,” Elijah says as he holds his phone up and snaps a few pictures.
“Ah, high school parties. The bane of my existence,” I reply with a chuckle.
“Speaking of missing people, why isn’t Fallon here with you?” Julien asks.
“He’s coming. He had to work.”
Laying my head on Julien’s shoulder, I watch my kids do their thing.
Christopher’s smile is a mile wide as he chats up a girl who is more interested in him than the sleek muscle car he’s standing beside.
Marcus has his arm slung around Hannah’s waist as they talk.
Every so often, he’ll bend to her ear, and she’ll laugh at something he tells her. Charlotte and Grant?—
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I elbow Julien in the ribs. “Tell your son to stop trying to impregnate my sixteen-year-old daughter.”
Julien snickers when he sees Grant and Charlotte locked in a very passionate kiss.
“Is that how babies are made these days?” he jests.
Taking pity on me, Elijah jumps down off the tailgate. “On it.”
“Thank you,” I gratefully tell him and poke Julien.
“Do I need to remind you what you and Jay used to do at their age?”
I jab my elbow into his ribs again because he won’t stop laughing. “No!”
More people arrive. So many young faces I don’t recognize.
Suddenly getting serious, Julien shifts and turns toward me. “How are you handling… things ?”
By things, he means Jayson.
“We had a good talk the other day, and I saw him earlier at the house.”
We spent hours at Ryder’s grave, reading, talking, reminiscing, and laughing.
No matter what has happened between us, I’ve missed him so much.
Our lives may have diverged twenty years ago, but our anger, grief, loss, guilt, and heartbreak are the same, even if the causes are different.
Ryder must have sent Jayson and Fallon to me for a reason.
It’s a bizarre thing to think, but one I wholeheartedly believe.
Both men showing up in my life again is not a coincidence.
“Did he tell you?”
“About rehab? Yeah.”
“Is that…all he told you?”
At his almost wary question, I squint at him. “Why?” I’m met with silence. “Julien,” I say when he doesn’t answer.
The loud growl of an engine coming up the road drowns out our conversation. My head swivels around at the familiar sound, and my jaw literally drops when I see who is behind the wheel of the frostbite-blue Hellcat Redeye.
What the hell? He didn’t…but I’m gawking at the proof that he did.
The Hellcat emits a throaty purr as it rolls onto the track and settles into silence when the engine shuts off. A hush sweeps through the crowd before excitement crackles in the air like a live wire, drawing onlookers in. Conversations pause. Heads turn.
Fallon steps out, the track lights casting a golden glow on his tousled dark-blond hair.
He leans lazily against the door, one Timberland-booted foot crossed over the other and arms folded over his muscular chest. That smirk—the one that’s equal parts trouble and seductive promise—tilts his mouth when his gaze snags mine, and my stomach tightens in response.
“Is that—?” Julien starts, but I don’t wait for the rest.
I’m off the tailgate in a heartbeat, feet hitting the ground as I weave through the crowd, my pulse hammering with each step.
“Where did you get this?” I circle the Hellcat once, drinking in every wicked line of the gorgeous car, its muscle-bound frame promising sheer, unrelenting speed.
This wasn’t in his garage. I would have noticed. Fallon veers more toward European models and luxury vanity cars, not American muscle.
“Bought it today.” He hooks his fingers around the belt loops of my shorts, and with a swift tug, he pulls me flush to him. His body heat immediately infuses my skin when we press together.
“Why?”
Charlotte prances over, Grant and Christopher in tow with Julien and Elijah not far behind.
“Damn. Nice.” Christopher whistles low, already making his way to the front.
Fallon reaches through the open window and pops the hood. Marcus and Hannah squeeze in beside Christopher, Charlotte, and Grant, jostling for a better look at the beast beneath.
“Jesus,” Marcus mutters, peering around the hood. “How much horsepower?”
Fallon’s palm skims up my neck to my cheek, and the heels of my feet lift off the ground to meet his kiss, only to stop short when he replies, “Over a thousand.”
“ Over a thousand? ”
He grins.
“Hennessey upgrade?” Marcus guesses.
Fallon nods.
“Damn.”
“Hey, Fal,” Elijah greets him.
Fallon holds up his finger for him to wait, and I finally get the kiss I’ve been desperate for. His mouth claims mine, slow and sweet at first, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. The moment his lips part mine, heat flares, sharp and all-consuming, until I’m left breathless, dizzy, and aching.
Julien throws his arm around Elijah and snuggles him to his side. “Are you racing tonight?”
“That’s the plan,” Fallon replies, but the way he says it instantly has me suspicious.
A little confused, I make the mistake of asking, “You are?”
He smiles down at me, mischief dancing behind his light-blue eyes. “Yeah.”
“Against who?” That’s my second mistake.
His grin stretches wide with pure, unfiltered wickedness. “You.”
“Yeah, right.” I laugh at the ridiculousness of his comment, thinking he’s joking. He isn’t. Sobering instantly, I reply with a resounding, “No.”
That damnable smirk increases in wattage, telling me yes.
Apparently, my kids are on Team Fallon. “Mom, you’ve got to! It will be epic!” Charlotte gushes.
“No.”
“A hundred on Liz,” Julien loudly declares, not helping matters because it starts a free-for-all of enthusiastic bets from the crowd that has gathered.
I look at the puppy dog expressions on the faces of my children. “I’m not doing it.”
“You should totally do it,” Marcus says.
“I drove the truck here. I don’t have a car.” It’s a dumb, futile reply that I know is doomed to fail when Christopher dangles my car fob in front of me.
“Your car is literally right over there.”
Fuck it.
I snatch the fob from his hand and glare at Fallon. “You still owe me a yacht from the last race I won.”
He lifts me in his arms and kisses the ever-living hell out of me. “I think I can do much better than that.”
I really am out of my mind.
My fingers curl around the steering wheel, knuckles white as I take a steadying breath and focus on the track in front of me. The crowd becomes darkened silhouettes in my periphery, their cheers muffled by the idling engines of the two Hellcats at the starting line.
Looking over at Fallon, I grin when our eyes meet through the window glass. Pressing down on the clutch pedal, I pump the gas to rev my engine a few times, the resulting roar a thunderous growl that sends vibrations rippling through my chest.
He shoots me a sexy, half-tipped smile as if to say, Bring it on, Kitten.
I blow him a ribald kiss using my middle finger, and he throws his head back and laughs.
Charlotte saunters onto the track like she’s owning a figurative catwalk. Curving her fingers and pressing them together, she makes a heart and mouths, You are a badass .
I know my children love me, that’s a given. But seeing their belief in me, that they’re proud of me and cheering me on, is one hell of an ego boost.
“Ready!” she yells, and the crowd responds with a wave of excited shouts and cheers that reverberate through the night air.
My blood pulses hot, adrenaline rushing through my veins. It’s a heady feeling that only amps me up more.
She points at Fallon. “Set.”
A cacophony of whistles erupts, the sound swelling to a deafening crescendo that pulses through the car’s windows.
When she raises her arms above her head, every muscle coils taut like a spring. I barely hear my own breathing over the drumbeat of my heart.
Dropping her arms, she shouts, “Go!”
Tires spin, kicking up dirt in violent bursts, the sudden G-force of acceleration throwing me back against my seat as I fly past her, and the world blurs at the edges as I race to get to the first turn ahead of Fallon.
He quickly catches up, his car a rapidly approaching phantom in my sideview.
With his souped-up HP, he has the advantage.
But I have years of experience…and Ryder.
I imagine him there with me, sitting in the passenger seat, his voice telling me exactly what I need to do.
“Alive,” by P.O.D., starts playing in my head, and my vision tunnels on the sharp corner up ahead.
Flying past on my right, Fallon surges forward and slides into the first curve like he was born to handle this track.
I keep my grip firm as I feather the throttle, my rear tires slipping into the slide.
Every trick Ryder taught me has me easily countering the sideways motion and powering through the curve on a drift that sends dirt in a plume behind me.
We barrel into the straightaway, rapidly approaching the second corner, our Hellcats neck and neck.
Every bump in the dirt jolts through me, but I hold steady, forcing my focus on the track ahead.
My fingers dance over the gearshift as I downshift, my tires spitting up debris as I slant into the curve.
Fallon is right there with me, his headlights flashing in my side mirror before he pulls even again.
Damn, he’s good.
The two of us are locked in a high-speed duel as we rocket toward the finish line. We both glance in each other’s direction at the same time, and the sight of him, popping those dimples with his reckless smile, sends a wild exhilaration through me.
I rapidly push into fifth gear, the final stretch looming ahead, the finish line barely visible through the haze of dust hanging in the air. Fallon’s Hellcat may have fancy upgrades, but I have my own secret weapon.
I send him a finger wave goodbye, then hold my breath as I slam the gas pedal as far as it will go to the floor.
Flicking the switch for the nitrous, Stella II responds like an unleashed beast, roaring forward with unrelenting power.
Fallon tries to match me, forcing his engine to its limits, but I shoot past him, the finish line flying beneath me.
Easing off the gas, I shift down until I come to a stop.
Oh my god. That was… amazing!
My hands shake on the wheel, my heart still trying to catch up. Fallon pulls up beside me, and the crowd gathers around our cars, an excitement of congratulations when we get out.
Charlotte runs over and hurtles into my arms, but I can’t understand her shriek of incoherent babble until she says, “That was incredible!”
Everyone becomes a whirl of color around me as I’m jostled from one excited hug to another.
And then, Fallon is standing in front of me, looking more roguishly handsome than ever.
He sweeps a hand through his hair, mussing it up in a way that makes my knees weak for some inexplicable reason. “Damn, baby.”
Baby . Hearing the endearment does something to me. It’s like I’m having an out-of-body experience. Every cell and synapse are on fire, tingling with adrenaline and…desire.
“Fallon.” It comes out breathy and needy and wanting.
His entire expression changes, and he grabs my hand. “Marcus, make sure her car gets back to the house.” He tosses his key to Christopher. “She’s yours.”
Catching it, Christopher gapes at him. “You want me to drive your car?”
“Not my car,” he says and swiftly pulls me through the crowd past Julien and Elijah.
“Holy shit! Are you serious? This is mine?”
Fallon gives a thumbs-up and keeps walking. Julien looks confused, but Elijah is wearing a shit-eating grin because he knows what’s about to happen as soon as Fallon and I get to the truck.
“Hey, I want a car!” Charlotte shouts, clearly pouting.
I know I’ll never hear the end of it when she gets home tonight.
“You can’t give him a car,” I tell Fallon, trying to keep up with his long strides.
Clearly deciding that the argument is over, he lifts me up and throws me over his shoulder. “I thought I just did.” He administers a slap on my ass that makes my pussy clench.
I’ll argue my point later. Right now, I need him to fuck my brains out.