Chapter 26
TWENTY-SIX
We get a week of relative peace, where I fall into a strange, comfortable routine in this new reality of being together.
Practice or a race, then dinner with Demi and Lana.
Occasionally, another driver will come over and join us, and each time, Lana gets the sweetest smile on her face, like she’s excited that people are warming up to me.
I don’t bother to tell her that it’s just people who have already warmed up to her.
Everyone wants to spend time in her orbit, which means they’ll tolerate my being there as well.
Still, Tyler and Oliver continue to pretend I don’t exist.
Afterward, Lana and I head to my room, where I eat her until she begs me to fuck her, which I do before we pass out in bed together.
Most mornings, she’s already gone, off to work with Demi.
I have no idea what they could be doing, since at practice, Demi barely even comments on anything, but I don’t ask.
I’ve learned that female friendships are mysterious, and I’ll probably never understand them.
This is the schedule we’re on when Lana and I walk into the arena a bit earlier than the rest of the crew.
We wanted to get a few practice runs in to help Lana nail a nose wheelie.
I told her I could give her some pointers, but when we enter, the energy is instantly off.
For one, instead of just a few people milling around as is usually the case before a race, there are probably ten standing in a huddle, three of them security.
My stomach drops as I glance around, and as if on instinct, Lana reaches over, grabs my hand, and curls her fingers around mine.
When Phil notices us approaching, he turns to us, his face looking nervous, and my gut drops further.
“Rome,” he calls across the field. “I didn’t expect you to be here so early.”
“I like to come in early, get a few practice rounds in before a race. Lana wanted me to give her some tips,” I say once we’re closer to him.
He looks between us, eyes narrowing on our joined hands, and I squeeze Lana’s small hand harder in reassurance.
I don’t know if it’s for me or her at this point, though.
“Of course, of course,” he says, looking at the now dispersing group we clearly interrupted.
“What’s going on?” I ask, and his hand comes up behind his neck, rubbing nervously.
“Well, there’s been… There’s been an incident.”
“An incident?” Lana asks, her voice sounding suddenly much more alert than I anticipated. I don’t look at her, though, my eyes locked on Phil.
‘Yes. It, um. It seems that someone tampered with your truck, Roman.”
With his words, the world drops away around me. Phil continues to speak; his tone suggests he’s trying to appease me, but I can’t hear a word of it. Instead, his words continue to swirl, popping the sweet, Lana-scented bubble I’d been floating along in.
Someone tampered with your truck, Roman.
It mixes with that nervous energy I thought I got rid of, but it was just buried, dredged up with his words. After a moment, I blink, trying to focus on what he’s saying, but it only gets worse the more I hear.
“We were doing our routine pre-race inspections, and when one of the techs tugged on the harness, it tore. He had another tech confirm, and that’s when we found the harness had been cut beneath where it is attached to the seat. We’re lucky that it was even caught.”
“Great luck,” I repeat, my voice sounding deadpan, something Phil clearly doesn’t pick up on.
“We’re able to find a replacement before the race, so you’ll be all good for—” That snaps me out of it, and quickly.
“Absolutely not,” I say, shaking my head.
My skin feels tingly, panic racing through me as I drop Lana’s hand and step toward my truck and the race seat in the dirt beside it.
The left strap is half out, its ends frayed.
I give it a hard tug, harder than I probably would to put it on, and more tears occur. With another, it snaps in my hand.
“Rome, you shouldn’t—” Phil says, but I can’t focus on anything but the seatbelt now in my hand.
Half of it is clean cut, leaving just enough together that, if it were far enough down behind the seat, it probably wouldn’t have been noticeable when I was buckling in.
But one or two hard bounces, and there is a good shot it would have snapped while in motion.
“This isn’t okay,” I say, dropping the destroyed belt and splaying a hand toward the seat and turning to Phil, indignant fire burning in my veins.
The panic and apprehension are turning into something else now, something I prefer, more manageable in its intensity.
Anger. Irritation. It must be written across my face because instead of arguing, Phil steps back and lifts his hands placatingly, as if trying to calm a rabid animal.
“Roman, I know you’re frustrated, but—”
“Frustrated? Frustrated does not cover what I am, Phil. I’m fuming. I’m anxious. I’m fucking terrified. Someone is out to hurt me, and you’re just trying to move on as if everything is just fine and dandy. Shit keeps happening—to me—and no one is doing anything about it.”
“We are, Rome. I promise. I’ve got this under control.”
“Under control? Under control? You said it yourself—it’s a near miracle someone caught it.
The next time I crash, it might not be so simple.
It might hurt someone else. It might fucking kill me.
” My voice is getting louder, and people are entering the arena now, watching me.
I’m sure it will result in another article about how the bad boy snapped at the crew over a simple mistake or something like that.
Still, I can’t seem to stop myself, to rein it in.
“Roman, let’s go,” a soft voice says before an even softer hand captures mine.
Lana is standing beside me, her eyes soft and sincere and worried, her body close to mine.
Not scared, not nervous, not retreating.
Instead, when my emotions win, Lana comes closer, eager to help me get it in check.
“Come on.” She tugs my hand and tips her head, and my feet, with minds of their own, begin to follow her.
A look of relief crosses her face before she looks over her shoulder to say something to someone behind me, but my ears are ringing now.
After a moment, she pulls me into the men’s locker room.
She sits on a bench, and I start pacing the locker area, trying to take deep breaths, to calm myself and bite back the panicked energy in my chest. Despite my mood, I’m able to note with appreciation how she lets me get this out, how she doesn’t try to give me any kind of false sense of security or, worse, brush it aside like it’s no big deal, the way everyone else seems to these days.
Instead, she sits, watches, waits, and lets me know without any words at all that she’s here for me. That realization is what makes me stop pacing in front of her, close my eyes, and admit it.
“I can’t go out there today.” I expect shame or a pep talk, but instead, she just stands and wraps her arms around my shoulders, holding me.
“I know,” she whispers, her voice angelically soft as I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her closer.
With the contact, some of the jittery feeling evaporates, and even more so when I press my head against her neck and take a deep breath, letting her comforting scent fill my senses.
It’s strange how quickly I’ve come to feel safe with Lana, but I do.
Not necessarily safe from danger, but safe to be me, safe to show her the softer parts of who I am without fear of her holding it against me or judging me.
“We’ve got this, Rome. We’re going to figure out what’s happening.
” Her voice is low and gentle, the way someone might talk to a spooked animal.
Slowly, my breaths start to even out. That feeling is still coiled in my chest, but with her touch, I can see through the haze.
“This is what they want. They want a reaction. They want you mad,” she says as she lifts her hand, running it through my hair.
“Someone is out for me, Lana,” I tell her, a confession that feels heavy. I haven’t told many people that thought, because even to me, it sounds self-centered.
“I know, Rome. I know, and I’m so sorry,” she says. I pull back, looking down at her, confused.
“You believe me?” Something unfamiliar crosses her face so quickly; I think I may have imagined it. Before she rests a hand on my cheek, its warmth further soothes my nerves.
“Of course I do. It’s obvious.”
“I know it sounds out there and conceited, but—” She shakes her head, cutting me off.
“It doesn’t. Anyone in your shoes would feel the same way,” she says.
“But—” Before she can finish her sentence, the door opens.
She tries to step back, but I keep her close, looking down at her.
Silently, I tell her I need her next to me, and she gives me a soft smile, then nods.
Phil enters right as I put an arm around her waist, tucking her into my side.
But it’s not just Phil who walks through the door: Tyler, Oliver, and a few other drivers follow him, looking agitated. For a moment, I think they’re here to tell me I’m being dramatic, to get out there and race, until I hear Tyler’s words as he walks in.
“We need to take this seriously, Phil. It’s clear someone wants to hurt Rome,” he says. Phil lets out a deep sigh, turning to the group following him. He looks more exhausted and aged than I’ve ever seen as he lifts his hands in a placating manner.
“Now, let’s not jump—”
“I’m not. I’m using common sense,” Tyler says. “First the crash, then the drug test, now this?”
“We don’t know if they’re related—” Phil tries again.
“If you don’t take serious precautions to try and figure out what’s going on, I’m going to take a hiatus.”
“Ty, man, you don’t have to—” I start to, knowing that a missed race could impact his standings for the world title later this year.
“No, he’s right. We need to be taking this seriously. Next time, it might not just be a crash,” Oliver says, and for the first time in years, something unexpected blooms in my chest: hope.
They’re here because they also believe in me. And maybe, just maybe, because once upon a time we used to be friends, that still carries weight with them.
“We’re going to do full inspections for every truck tonight, and everything will be fine,” Phil says. “You can all rest assured that you will be completely safe to race today.” I shake my head, though.
“I’m not racing,” I say. “Not today. Someone knew where to cut my harness so it wouldn’t be obvious and was able to get into the stadium and into my truck without anyone noticing.
I’m going to do a full inspection and hire a third party out of my own pocket for each upcoming stop, but I’m not racing tonight.
I wouldn’t be in the right headspace, and that alone could be dangerous.
” I look to Tyler and Oliver. “Not just for me, but for the other drivers and crew.”
“Roman, people came to see you. They’re going to be—” I shake my head at Phil, somehow feeling better now that I’ve vocalized this decision.
“They’ll be fine. They can watch everyone else.
I’m not the star of this show. I’ll go to the meet and greet, but I’m not racing tonight.
” Confusingly, Phil’s eyes move to Lana at my side, irritation and impatience clear in them, but before he can say anything about our clear relationship, I continue.
“My contract states I have up to five days off, and I haven’t used a single one.
I’m using one today.” Phil opens his mouth to argue but then sighs and shakes his head as if realizing there’s no point.
“Fine,” he says eventually, then runs a hand through his hair. “Fine. I have to go and tell Stevens he’s being brought in and ask Courtney if there’s anything we need to be doing press-wise.”
“Great. If she needs anything, I’m available,” I say. Phil nods, then walks off, giving us a halfhearted, dejected wave. Once he’s out of the way, I take a deep breath, then slowly release it before turning to the guys.
“You didn’t have to—” I start, but Tyler shakes his head.
“Don’t worry, I didn’t. Your shit is going to start affecting the other drivers and me.
Something happens to your truck when we’re all out there; we could all get hurt.
It wasn’t personal; it was for my own benefit.
” I stare at him, that feeling in my chest melting as quick as it came.
For a moment, I caught a glimpse of my friend, someone who cares, but maybe it was just a figment of my imagination.
“But we’re glad you’re okay,” Oliver adds, glaring at Tyler. Of the three of us, Oliver was always the kindest and the least volatile. “Right, Ty?” Tyler rolls his eyes and sighs before nodding.
“Yeah. I gotta go, though.” I bite back a small smile, and that hope returns with a vengeance because I know Tyler.
Like me, he’d rather avoid emotions and feelings, but he won’t say anything just to be nice.
Before I can think about that longer, he and the rest of the drivers are gone, leaving just Lana and me in the locker room.
She turns again into my arms, and I pull her in close, soaking in her warmth.
“Do you want me to stay back today? I don’t have to race,” Lana asks as she looks up at me.
The answer is yes.
I do. Not because I don’t want her racing without me, but because my anxiety about my safety has now spread to Lana, and I want to keep her safe as well.
But if there’s one thing I’ve learned about Alana Carson, it’s that she doesn’t want anyone telling her what to do, how to act, or keeping her in some kind of box she was born to live outside.
Over the past few weeks, it’s been amazing to watch her grow, becoming the confident person I think she was always meant to be.
I won’t do anything to push her back into it.
“No,” I say with a shake of my head, sliding my hand up the back of her neck and into her hair.
I tilt my head down, pressing my lips softly to hers before speaking.
“No. I won’t ever tell you what to do. If you feel okay racing, I want you to do that.
” She bites her lip, and I use a thumb to pull it out of her teeth.
“But I’m going to inspect your truck myself before you drive.
I don’t trust anyone here. And for future races, my inspector will check your truck, too. ” I expect an argument, but she nods.
“Yes. Of course. Whatever makes you feel comfortable, Rome.” God, this woman. She gets me. Not only that, but she accepts me.
And that’s better than anything I’ve ever had in my life.