CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Asher
Since arriving in Stetbourg, we’d had a couple of team meetings, but I didn’t expect another one this Monday. So far, things had been fine—probably because our team manager was in charge. Grant wasn’t a dick like Russell, and to him I was just another racer. No family baggage complicating things.
But with the way I felt around Kaia—who filled my head almost as much as racing—I didn’t see myself bonding with Russell anytime soon.
“This season looks promising,” Grant said, rubbing his palms together. “If everything goes according to plan, the World Championship will be within reach.”
He looked straight at me, like our shot at it depended on my results alone, but I wasn’t the only racer.
Ethan shifted in his chair. “The champ will bring us plenty of wins.”
A smirk tugged at his mouth. When our eyes met, he winked. I’d bet he was hoping I’d lose.
“I’m sure of it.” Grant chuckled. “Besides, we need some this season. Oh, and before I forget—the team’s anniversary gala is right after Christmas. Needless to say, we expect you there.”
A gala? News to me. Ethan, though, didn’t look surprised. “Hear that, champ? Hope you won’t bail this time.”
I didn’t remember ever bailing—unless he was still sulking about me skipping drinks after our race.
My phone buzzed before I had to answer. Javi. I set it down, but it vibrated again.
“That’s all for today.” Grant tucked his laptop under his arm. “You know where to find me.”
I left the conference room right behind him. My phone rang before I could call Javi back.
“Hola.” I leaned against the hallway wall.
“?Estás liado?” Are you busy?
Never too busy for him, especially when he called out of the blue. “No. ?Qué pasa?” No, what’s up?
“Sit if you’re standing.” Javi’s nervous chuckle shot adrenaline through my veins. “Looks like Sport Union Madrid wants me.”
It was like being doused in ice water. My heart leaped, hands trembling so bad even gripping the phone tighter didn’t help.
“Joder, tío.” My voice caught. “For real?”
“Yeah. I’ll be joining them in January. Fucking pinch me, Ash… This is… Fuck, I don’t even know. I’m scared I’ll go to bed and it’ll be gone when I wake up.”
His dream team—the one whose colors he’d worn since we were kids, whose matches he never missed—wanted him. One of the best football clubs in Spain, in the world, had noticed my best friend. If that wasn’t life-changing, I didn’t know what was.
“You deserve it,” I said. “More than anyone. I’m so fucking proud of you.”
Javi’s quiet laugh rumbled through the line. “Thank you. Listen, I know it’s sudden, but I might visit you this month.”
“Fuck, that’d be amazing. Will you be here for my birthday?”
Javi sighed. “I’d love to, but no. I don’t think I’ll travel before Christmas. I’ll text you later, okay? Mom wants to celebrate.”
“Hug her for me. And tell her she has a great son—but not as good as me.”
“Qué te den, tío.” Fuck you, dude. He laughed.
“Congrats again. I can’t wait to celebrate when you’re here.”
A smile lingered on my lips when I hung up. This was the kind of news I needed. I lived Javi’s success like it was mine.
“I didn’t know your birthday was coming up.”
Ethan leaned in the conference room doorway. Since when was it okay to eavesdrop?
I masked my irritation with a neutral look. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Of course it is.” He stepped inside. “We should go out. You, me, the team guys. What do you say? You wouldn’t want us thinking we’re beneath you, right, champ?”
I’d only turned him down once—was it really still a problem? Not for me, but Dad would’ve made an effort to know the guys. Shit. Maybe I should go.
“I guess we could do something,” I said.
“Awesome.” Ethan clapped my shoulder on his way past. “I throw banging parties at my place.”
***
When I walked into Ale’s apartment an hour later, nervous energy thrummed through me. He knew how hard Javi had worked for scouts to notice him, and I was sure he’d be just as happy when I told him.
“How was the meeting?” Ale asked as we dropped onto the gray sectional. Traffic hummed even on the tenth floor—Stetbourg’s curse—but the view of the city skyline through his wide windows made up for it. I wouldn’t mind renting a place like this myself.
“Grant seems solid.” I stretched my legs, arms crossed. “He’s optimistic about the season.”
Ale took a sip of his beer, nodding. “Bet he is. You’re his and Russell’s golden ticket to the world championship.”
I snorted, letting my eyes roam his spotless living room.
Whoever Ale ended up with would be lucky—he actually kept things neat.
“I don’t think I’m Russell’s golden anything.
He’d boot me from his house and team both if he could.
Guess he puts up with me cause it makes my mother happy.
” I grabbed the bottle Ale had set on a coaster for me, chasing away the bitterness on my tongue with a long swallow.
A frown tugged at his mouth. “Why? Something happen between you two?”
I rolled the bottle between my palms. I wanted to tell him about Kaia, but what would I say? That I’d avoided her for days to prevent problems with her father, only for her to walk in on me naked and then nearly fall down the stairs? That I’d never been more confused about my feelings?
On paper, it was simple. I had a plan I couldn’t afford to derail, and giving in to our attraction was a recipe for disaster. She was Russell’s daughter, and I was on his team. He held my career in his hands.
I shouldn’t think about Kaia, shouldn’t imagine her smooth skin under my palms like yesterday—but I did.
“You know we don’t get along,” I said, taking another drink. “And I don’t like how he treats people.”
Mainly, I didn’t like how he treated his daughter—who tried so damn hard to act like his indifference didn’t cut her. Every time she swallowed back tears at one of his asshole remarks, it broke something in me.
He didn’t care about her, but I did. She was the only reason I was still in that house instead of an apartment like Alejandro’s, where I’d have far more freedom.
Ale set his half-empty beer on the table. “I see. Are you having second thoughts about joining Forward Racing?”
“Because of him?” I hedged.
“In general.”
I didn’t like Ethan, and Russell was a dick, but the team was more than those two. “I haven’t even started racing yet.”
“Penalty clauses exist for a reason. You wouldn’t be the first to back out.”
“Wait.” I straightened. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Ale rose, disappeared into the other room, then returned with a thin black folder. He set it in my lap. “Read this.”
I flipped it open. My pulse climbed with every line. An offer from a Spanish team that competed in the World Championship every year. Not a RevGlobe Grand Prix team with custom bikes, sponsorships, and piles of money—but racing for them would put me on the map. Recognition. Opportunity.
But accepting meant going back to Spain. Saying no to Dad’s first team.
He’d always kept his word. I’d given mine to Forward Racing.
“Their timing sucks,” I muttered. “Why not offer this at the start of the season in Spain?”
Ale shrugged. “Injuries happen. Rosters change. They’ve been watching you for a while. I told you it was only a matter of time.”
I closed the folder. “When do you need to answer?”
“By the end of the month. Before the year closes. You’ve got time, but if you want my opinion, I’ve got a good feeling about it. A step forward for your career. A chance to show your talent.”
I flipped through the pages again without really seeing them. Ale clasped his hands on his knees, watching me.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, handing the folder back. “Thanks for looking out for me. By the way, Javi called earlier. He’s signing with Sport Union Madrid.”
Ale’s face broke into a grin. “Holy shit, chico. See? Dreams do come true.”
I heard the unspoken part: they came true for Javi, and they could for me.
But I was almost twenty-one. Grant was optimistic about the season, but there was no guarantee I’d take Forward Racing to the World Championship. The Spanish offer was my shot to level up now. Race with a team that had a proven record.
Ale had a good feeling—and when it came to my career, he was rarely wrong.
So why did my chest feel so heavy?