18. Luke
CHAPTER 18
Luke
There was really something wrong with me.
I walked Jenna up to her front door with a sense of dread in the pit of my stomach. She was going to invite me in. I could feel it. The drive from the restaurant had been filled with tension, and usually I’d have considered that a good thing.
What guy wouldn’t? Jenna was hot. Plus, she was sweet and we’d had a nice time. So why did the thought of going in with her make me want to crawl out of my own skin?
We approached her door, but she didn’t make a move to unlock it. She faced me and bit her bottom lip with a suggestive hint of a smile.
“I had a really good time tonight.” She moved a step closer, clearly expecting me to lean in and kiss her.
I absently wiped my hands on my pants. Were my palms sweating? “Yeah, me too.”
“So…” She tilted her chin up. “Would you like to come in?”
It took me a second before I could get an answer out. “I don’t think I should. Not tonight. ”
“Oh.” She sounded surprised, but not upset. “Are you sure? I don’t ask unless I mean it.”
“I appreciate that. But not tonight.”
“All right. If you need to take things slow, I totally respect that.”
“Yeah, I do. Thanks.”
Her eyebrows lifted. She wanted me to kiss her. I didn’t want to kiss her, but I knew I’d feel bad if I didn’t. I leaned in and, at the last second, moved to give her a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Night, Jenna. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Okay. Goodnight, Luke.”
Walking back to my car, I let out a long breath. I was ready to kick myself. What the hell, Luke? Why had I walked away from that? Why wasn’t I in there ripping her clothes off instead of slamming my car door and driving away?
Because I didn’t want to rip Jenna’s clothes off.
But why?
It was not because of—
No, I wasn’t even going to think her name. This was not about her.
Brooding and frustrated, I headed toward my place. Part of me wanted to detour through the Timberbeast to have a drink or two. But I was too likely to run into one of my brothers. That was the last thing I needed. I didn’t want to admit that I’d turned down a perfectly good “come inside” offer. A couple of drinks, and I might even admit why.
Even worse, if they’d decided to stop for a drink after dinner, I might run into Melanie with that dumbass.
Damn it, Melanie.
Right as I pulled into my driveway, my phone buzzed with a text. I glanced at the notification.
Kyle: We’re on tonight. You in?
Fuck yes, I was in. Speed was exactly what I needed. If I drove fast and hard enough, maybe I could outrun the shitty feeling brewing inside me.
I sent a quick reply, then went inside to change.
The night air sparked with tension and adrenaline ran hot in my veins. The track was packed with people and cars—some there to race, others to show off their rides. Bets were placed, money seemed to be everywhere, and with the summer weather lingering, everyone was dressed like we were enjoying an afternoon at the beach.
I didn’t care about any of it. I just wanted to drive.
Usually, I went into a race night ready for the wave of speed and adrenaline to make me feel alive again—chase away the emptiness that threatened to consume me.
But that night was different. I was amped up, seething with frustration. I didn’t want to race to feel something more, I needed an outlet for my anger.
What was I even mad at?
Myself, for turning down Jenna? Or maybe for taking her on a date in the first place?
And Melanie. Fucking Melanie Andolini looking like a goddess with her dark hair spilling over her shoulders and that dress accentuating every curve. With her angry eyes and shiny lips.
I’d hated it. Hated seeing her dressed up for another man. Hated seeing her sitting with him, chatting with him, smiling at him. It had been all I could do to keep my eyes on my actual date, and not on her. I didn’t know how Jenna hadn’t noticed, but she’d seemed oblivious to my distraction.
And my anger.
But out on the track, in the middle of the night, with the smell of dust and gasoline in the air, I couldn’t stop thinking about how pissed I was at Melanie .
“You okay, man?” Kyle asked, a look of concern on his face.
“Fine.”
“How you feeling tonight?”
My eyes moved to meet his. “Fast.”
A grin spread across his face. “That’s what I love to hear. Make me some money tonight, buddy.”
I looked away without answering, got in my car, and shoved on my helmet.
It wasn’t long before they’d cleared the track. Cars were in place, drivers ready, engines revving. I curled my hands around the steering wheel, my jaw clenched, eyes on the road. My heart thumped hard in my chest, but instead of the beginnings of an adrenaline high, I just felt rage.
The gun went off and I slammed my foot on the gas. Tension rippled through my body as I pulled out ahead of the pack, heedless of how hard it would be to hold the lead. I didn’t give a shit. I was still going to win.
I sailed around the first turns, hugging the S-curves. But I wasn’t smooth about it. I wrenched the steering wheel, forcing my car to obey. Another car pulled ahead, but I floored it on the end of the last turn and took back the lead.
If the crowd cheered as I completed the first lap, I didn’t care. I flew by, my focus intense, hints of red at the corners of my vision. Dust hung heavy in the air and my engine roared as I gunned it along the straightaway.
I kept the lead through the S-curves on the second pass. Sweat dripped down my temples and my jaw started to ache from clenching my teeth. I wasn’t racing the other drivers. I was racing Melanie. And that fucking Hank guy. What a dick. Why would she go out with a guy like that? What the hell did she even see in him?
And why did I care?
So much dust was in the air, it was hard to see. We hadn’t had rain in ages. I lost the lead for most of the third lap and pushed hard to get it back. Fuck those guys. Fuck it all. I hit the gas on the next turn, determined to overtake them.
My control was slipping. The tires felt like they weren’t gripping the track, and my usual sense of elation was nowhere to be found. My muscles were tense, my hands sweating, and my heart beat fast. With a roar in my throat, I started to surge ahead. Two more laps. I could make it.
Without warning, the world went crazy. The back end of my car jerked to the right, and I lost all sense of direction. Everything spun as my body slammed around the cab. Pain exploded across my chest, and I couldn’t get any air.
Just as fast, everything stopped.
For a second, I couldn’t move—couldn’t even breathe. In a panic, I threw off my helmet and tried to suck in air. It felt like my chest had caved in.
My car door opened and dusty air billowed in. That didn’t help the breathing situation, but I could tell I wasn’t choking. I’d just had the wind knocked out of me. Logically, I knew my diaphragm would stop spasming and I’d be able to breathe. But the seconds felt like minutes as I struggled for air.
“Get him out! Get him out!”
Someone reached over me and unfastened the seat belt. Voices came out of the darkness, shouting questions. My body finally let me take a breath and I held up a hand for them to give me a second.
“Get him out of there,” someone said again.
Arms reached in to pull me out, but I waved them off. My brain registered pain, but I was still too busy trying to breathe to recognize where it was coming from. I got out and stood. Legs worked. That was good.
I took a few more labored breaths before I could speak, and when I did, my voice was a low croak. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”
My head spun. I’d crashed. I’d fucking crashed my car.
“Luke!” Kyle ran up to me. “Holy shit. Are you okay? ”
“Of course he’s not okay, genius,” someone snapped. “He just wrecked.”
“I’m fine.” I was vaguely aware of a guy with a fire extinguisher. “Is the car on fire?”
“No, man, no fire,” someone said.
I nodded. That made sense, considering I was still standing right next to it.
“Did you have your helmet on?” he asked.
Still trying to catch my breath, I nodded again. “Took it off after.”
A flurry of activity surrounded me, but it was hard to focus. Something hurt. A lot. What was it? My diaphragm was starting to work again, so I could breathe. I was standing, so it wasn’t my legs. I fisted my hands a few times, opening and closing them, then extended my arms.
Probably just bruises from being knocked around in the cab.
“They’re going to get your car out of the way,” Kyle said. “You sure you’re okay? Maybe you should get checked out.”
“No.” I put up a hand and took a step. “I’m—”
A wave of pain across my midsection made me gasp. I’d been about to say I was fine, but I was not fine. Clutching my ribs, I doubled over, groaning.
“Is Mike here? He’s a nurse, isn’t he?” someone asked.
“Don’t take him to the hospital,” someone else said. “He’ll rat us out.”
“He won’t rat us out, you idiot.”
“Someone should take him. He could have internal bleeding.”
“I got it,” Kyle said. “I’ll go get my car. Wait here.”
People around me kept arguing about what to do with me. A few discussed how to get my car out of the way so they could keep racing. But that was how it worked. I’d seen crashes happen. We stopped long enough to make sure no one needed medical attention, got their cars out of the way, and the race was back on.
It was fucked up, when I thought about it.
Still clutching my ribs, I leaned against my car and waited for Kyle. What a mess. I didn’t even want to turn around and survey the damage to my car. Didn’t want to know. The pain in my side was blinding, making sweat drip down my back and nausea roil through my stomach. Idly, I wondered if I had broken ribs.
Someone had said the words internal bleeding. That wasn’t good.
It served me right. I shouldn’t have been driving angry. I was just glad I hadn’t done worse. Glad I was still alive.
Kyle pulled up, and someone I didn’t know helped me into the passenger side of his old Dodge Challenger. Grimacing, I tried not to groan as I got in. Fuck, it hurt. And all I could think about as he started down the track to the bumpy dirt road that would lead out of there was how much I wanted to call Melanie.