Chapter Twenty – Cole
CHAPTER TWENTY
COLE
Fuck me sideways. I knew the high wouldn’t last. I can still taste Lola on my tongue, and I don’t have the chance to savor the delicacy like I should.
The TV blares in the team lounge, the usual pre-race buzz replaced by a stunned silence that presses down on me like a physical weight. My gaze is fixed on the screen, but the talking heads and flashing headlines all blur together, a meaningless jumble of noise. All I can see is the image of my father, younger, vibrant, accepting a trophy, his smile wide, confident.
LAWSON'S LEGACY UNRAVELED: Did Cole Lawson’s Deceased Father Cheat His Way to Victory?
The words, stark and unforgiving, sear themselves into my brain. My father, the cheat.
The news anchor's voice, a sharp, clipped tone that grates on my already frayed nerves, cut through the fog in my head. “And we're talking decades ago. Some of Richard Lawson's biggest victories are now under a cloud of suspicion. This isn't just gossip; there are whispers of payoffs, tampered engines, even threats made against other drivers.”
My stomach churns, a sick feeling of betrayal mixing with the anger and confusion. It’s like the ground has shifted beneath me, the foundation of my life, my career, crumbling before my eyes. I know my father wasn’t a good man, but that is our family’s secret to keep.
Jake Harper, a seasoned sports journalist I've always respected, adds fuel to the fire. " Cole Lawson has remained silent so far. But the pressure is mounting. He's a rising star, but can he outrun this shadow cast by his father? Many are wondering if Cole himself benefited from his father's alleged actions."
The words hit me like a gut punch. Benefitted? Never! I earned every fucking trophy I carried off that podium.
I feel Lola's gaze on me, but I can't meet her eyes, can't face the pity I imagine I'll see there.
Gene has clearly heard enough because he turns off the TV, and everyone looks at me with confusion.
“I can’t believe it’s on every channel.” Lola’s soft voice cuts through the quiet of the garage.
It sets my teeth on edge and makes me want to put my fist through something, ideally Captain Douche’s face.
No one should know this shit. No one. It’s my cross to bear, my family’s fucked-up legacy. A secret I've guarded for years, a burden I've carried alone. Except… Chad knows. He's always known.
We were just kids back then, both hungry for something more: him for the racing dynasty he was born into, me for the girl who saw me and not just the Lawson name. He’d had the proof—the dirt on my father—and I'd had Lola. We'd struck a deal, a twisted pact forged in the crucible of teenage ambition and heartbreak: his silence for my love. I walked away from Lola, breaking both our hearts, believing I was protecting my family's honor and securing my future.
I’m up, pacing the garage like a caged animal, the familiar scent of oil and gasoline doing nothing to soothe the rage and confusion swirling inside me. I need to move. I need to do something, anything, before I explode. “How the fuck could he do this?”
My crew sits silently, their faces pale, their gazes fixed on the floor as the question hangs there unanswered—a lead weight in my gut. He broke our deal.
Chad got what he wanted: my absence from Lola's life, a clear path to try and win her heart. I'd held up my end of the bargain, lived with the guilt and the what-ifs, and buried the pain of losing Lola deep inside. He had no right to expose my father’s sins, to drag my family’s name through the mud.
I run a hand through my hair, tugging hard enough to hurt, a physical pain to distract from the gaping wound in my soul. “This is bullshit. Complete fucking bullshit.”
Lola steps closer, her brow creased with worry, and reaches out a hand, a beacon of warmth in the storm raging inside me. I flinch away, the memories of our shattered past a fresh wave of pain. I can’t deal with her softness right now. Not when I’m all jagged edges and raw nerves, my insides a tangled mess of anger, betrayal, and a bone-deep fear that threatens to consume me.
“Cole,” she starts, her voice soft, concerned, but I cut her off, the words escaping my lips before I can stop them.
“Don’t,” I snarl. “Just… don’t.”
I catch a glimpse of hurt in her eyes before she masks it. It twists something in my chest, but I can’t focus on that now. Not with my world crumbling around me. It’s always one step forward and two steps back. Fuck!
“We need to get ahead of this,” Gene says, ever the pragmatist. “Before it snowballs.”
I laugh, the sound harsh and brittle. “Get ahead of it? It’s front-page fucking news, Gene. The snowball has already caused an avalanche.”
The room falls silent again. I can feel their eyes on me, a mix of pity and concern that makes my skin crawl. They don’t deserve my rage; this is my problem, not theirs.
“I need some air,” I mutter, pushing past them all.
As I storm out of the garage, the sunlight hits me like a slap to the face. But it’s nothing compared to the storm raging inside me.
My father’s sins have come back to haunt me. My name is being dragged through the mud. Everything I’ve worked for is teetering on the edge of ruin.
How the fuck am I going to fix this?
I slam the door behind me, the garage’s quiet replaced by the roar of the outside world. The sun’s too bright, the air too thick. Everything’s wrong.
My feet carry me across the lot, no destination in mind. I just need to move, to run from the shitstorm brewing inside.
Dad’s voice echoes in my head. “Son, racing’s in our blood. It’s who we are.”
Yeah, Dad. So is cheating, apparently.
I kick at a loose stone, sending it skittering across the asphalt. It doesn’t help. Nothing does.
Why did Chad do this now?
The question churns in my gut, a toxic mix of rage and fear. Lola said he plays dirty, but I just assumed she meant on the track, not beyond it.
I reach the fence at the edge of the property and grip the chain link until my knuckles go white. Beyond it, the track stretches out, a ribbon of asphalt that’s been my whole world. My escape. My fucking religion.
And now? Now it might all be tainted. Every win, every lap, every damn checkered flag—all of it under a microscope.
“Fuck!” The word tears out of me, raw and primal. I slam my fist into the fence, the pain a welcome distraction from the chaos in my head.
I hear footsteps behind me. Soft, hesitant. Lola.
“Cole,” she says, voice gentle as a summer breeze. It grates on my nerves.
“I told you I needed air,” I growl, not turning around.
She sighs, and I can picture her crossing her arms, that stubborn set to her jaw. “And I’m giving you air. You don’t get to decide who can share that air with you.”
The silence stretches between us, taut as a rubber band about to snap.
Finally, I turn. She’s standing there, worry etched on her face, but there’s something else. Determination. Fire. I don’t know how she knows, but it’s exactly what I need from her.
“What are we gonna do?” I ask, hating how lost I sound.
Lola steps closer, her eyes never leaving mine. “We fight. We prove that you’re not your father. That this team, what we’ve built, it’s real. It’s been earned.”
I want to believe her. Hell, do I ever. But the doubt gnaws at me, a cancer eating away at everything I thought I knew.
“And if we can’t?” The words taste like ash in my mouth, but I need to get them off my chest.
She reaches out, her hand on my arm. The touch burns through me, grounding me in a way nothing else can.
“Then we go down swinging,” she says, fierce and beautiful and everything I don’t deserve. “Together.”
I look at her, really look at her. This woman has stood by me, believing in me when I can barely believe in myself. And something shifts inside me, a spark of hope in the darkness.
“All right, Lo. Together,” I repeat, the word a promise.
We’ve got one hell of a fight ahead of us. Chad, the media circus he’s spun up, the whole fucking world—they’re all gunning for us now.
I take a deep breath, the air heavy with the scent of rubber and gasoline. It steadies me and reminds me who I am. What I’m fighting for.
“Okay,” I say, squaring my shoulders, forcing down the panic that threatens to rise. This isn’t the time for fear, for doubt. “We need a plan.”
Lola nods, all business now, her focus laser-sharp, the way I need her to be. “First things first, we need to figure out Chad’s source. If we can discredit it?—”
“That’s not going to fucking happen,” I cut her off, my voice hard, the reality of the situation sinking in. I don’t know who his source was back in high school, but they are likely long gone now, a ghost from a past I can’t erase. The evidence, whatever it is, is out there. Denials won’t cut it.
“We need to go on the offensive,” I say, my mind already strategizing, shifting gears like I’m on the track, fighting for position. “If we can’t bury the story, we discredit the messenger.”
We head back to the garage, purpose in our steps. The team’s still there, faces grim but determined. They’ve been through hell with me before – crashes, scandals, the relentless pressure of the racing world. This is just another lap in a race we can’t afford to lose.
“Marcus,” I bark, my voice taking on the sharp edge of command, "I need you to find someone who can dig into Chad’s financials. Any unusual transactions, any connections to my old man’s circle. Anything.”
He nods, already pulling out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen. “On it, boss.”
“Gene, reach out to our sponsors. We need to know who’s still with us and who’s wavering.”
“You got it,” he says, his voice gruff but loyal, the unwavering support a lifeline in this storm.
I turn to Lola, our eyes meeting in silent understanding. We’ve always been good at reading each other, anticipating the next move, on the track and off. “We need to set the story straight. Set up interviews with carefully selected outlets. We control the narrative from here on out.”
She’s already tapping away on her tablet, her brow furrowed in concentration, her mind a weapon as potent as any engine. “I’ve got a few ideas. We’ll need to be strategic, hit the right notes… play the sympathy card, emphasize how this is affecting you, the team…”
As she talks, laying out a battle plan with the precision of a four-star general, I feel something settle in my chest. A calm in the eye of the storm, the thrill of the chase.
This is what we do. We face impossible odds. We stare down defeat. And we fucking win.
“One more thing,” I say, my voice cutting through the buzz of activity, silencing the whispers and anxieties swirling in the garage. Everyone stops and looks at me, their faces a mixture of apprehension and hope.
“Chad thinks he’s got us on the ropes,” I continue, feeling a grin spreading across my face, fierce, determined, maybe a little crazy. I’ve been backed into a corner before, forced to fight my way out. And I’ve always come out swinging. “He thinks he’s won. Let’s show that son of a bitch what happens when you corner Cole Lawson.”
The energy in the room shifts, determination hardening into something more. Something dangerous.
Lola steps up beside me, her hand finding mine. She squeezes once, hard. “Let’s get crazy.”
I look around at my team—my family—and see the fire in their eyes, the loyalty that goes beyond any paycheck.
“Let’s get crazy,” I repeat, feeling the adrenaline start to pump. “We’ve got a reputation to save and a race to win.”
As everyone springs into action, I catch Lola’s eye one more time. There’s a promise there, unspoken but real. Chad Tane might have landed the first punch, but I’ll be damned if I don’t land the last. This is my legacy, my life’s work. And I’m not giving it up without one hell of a fight.
The storm’s coming, and I am the aftermath.
I’m knee-deep in damage control when my phone buzzes. Unknown number. I almost ignore it, but something makes me answer.
“Lawson,” I growl.
“Hello, Cole.” The voice is smooth, oily. Familiar. My blood runs cold.
Chad fucking Tane.
“You sonofabitch,” I snarl, knuckles white around the phone.
He chuckles, the sound grating on my last nerve. “Now, now. Is that any way to talk to an old friend?”
“We were never friends, Tane. What the fuck do you want?”
“Just calling to see how you’re holding up,” he says, fake concern dripping from every word. “It must be so difficult, having your family’s dirty laundry aired like this.”
I grit my teeth, fighting to keep my voice steady. “If you think this is gonna break me, you’re dead wrong.”
“Oh, I don’t want to break you, Cole,” Chad purrs. “I want to watch you squirm. To see the great Cole Lawson brought low by his daddy’s sins.”
Red clouds my vision. I want to reach through the phone and strangle him. “Why now?” I demand. “Why drag this shit up after all these years?”
“Because you just couldn’t leave her alone,” Chad hisses, all pretense of civility gone. “We had a deal, Lawson. You were supposed to walk away, and in turn, your family’s secret would be kept safe.”
Lola. He’s talking about Lola.
“That was years ago. Lola has nothing to do with our fathers. Leave her out of it,” I growl, protective instinct flaring.
“Too late for that, Cole,” he sneers. “She’s as much a part of this as you are. I wonder how she’ll feel when she learns just how deep your father’s corruption ran?”
As far as I know, it ran as deep as his father’s.
“Don’t pick a fight you can’t win, Tane.”
“Oh, I’ll win,” Chad says, smug satisfaction dripping from every word. “This is just the beginning, Lawson. By the time I’m done, you’ll wish you’d never set foot on a racetrack.”
The line goes dead.
I stand there, phone clenched in my fist, rage and fear warring inside me. Chad’s words echo in my head, a promise of more pain to come.
“Cole?” Lola’s voice snaps me back to reality. She’s watching me, concern etched on her face. “Who was that?”
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. “Chad,” I say, watching her eyes widen. “He’s not done fucking us over.”
Lola’s jaw sets, that familiar determination hardening her features. “Then we’re not done either. Whatever he’s got planned, we can handle it.”
I nod, drawing strength from her resolve. Chad wants a war? Then a war he will get.