CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Asher
If I kept winning, my first season with Forward Racing would rival Dad’s.
It’d silence the skeptics who claimed the son was never as good as the father, that my success came from a last name and luck.
Those comments were why I avoided social media.
I didn’t even have an account, though Ale insisted I’d need one if I wanted bigger teams and sponsorship deals.
For now, winning the next race was all that mattered. A dull ache spread through my muscles—I’d trained too hard, pushed too far—but it’d be worth it tomorrow. I stripped out of my gear and pulled on sweats.
Just as I reached for my duffel to grab a shirt, a knock sounded at the motorhome door.
I cleared my throat. “Come in.”
“Hola, peque.” Kaia slipped inside, smiling bright. “Nice abs.”
My heart nearly leaped out of my chest. “Kaia.” I stepped toward her. “What are you doing here?”
She looked even more stunning in a short pink dress under a light white jacket.
“Came to see you.”
“Mi nina.” I cupped her cheeks. “You didn’t skip class, did you?”
She looped her arms around my waist and rested her forehead against my collarbone. “Of course not, silly.” She kissed my chest. “It’s late. Dad forgot his laptop and papers at home and asked your mom to bring them, so we stopped here before heading to my dance studio.”
“Okay.” I kissed the top of her head. Her fingertips trailed down my abs, sending goosebumps skittering across my skin. I fucking needed her. Between training and always having people around, we hadn’t been truly alone since February. “Nobody saw you, right?” My voice came out tight.
“No,” she said, flattening her palm on my stomach. “Only a few guys in the garage, but they weren’t looking my way.”
“They better not.”
“Jealous?” Kaia kissed my neck.
Heat spread through my worn-out body. I cradled her close, breathing in her fruity scent. “Not jealous. Careful. And happy to see you.”
“I’m happy to see you too. You’ve barely been home. I’ll just kiss you and go.”
“I’ll be home tonight,” I whispered, smoothing my fingertips over her jaw. “Maybe we could watch a movie?”
She brushed a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “Or you could quiz me. The PSAT’s tomorrow, remember?”
“Fuck. True. Are you ready? You’ve studied so much.”
She rested her chin on my chest, looking up at me. “Not really. I could use a couple more weeks. Math worries me most. I get nervous just thinking about it.”
“Don’t. You’ve worked hard.” I brushed her hair back from her face. “It’s not even the real test yet.”
Kaia rolled her eyes. “Tell that to my father. It’s the only thing he’s asked me about all week.”
“I’m proud of you, regardless,” I said. “Now do what you promised.”
I kissed her first—long, slow—trying not to think that I wouldn’t get to do it again until tonight.
We made it work, but I wanted more: real dates, movie nights, cooking for her at my place, her sleeping without fear of being caught.
Day trips somewhere beautiful, gifts she didn’t have to hide.
I’d give a lot to have what other couples took for granted.
I kissed her harder. Kaia pressed into me, and though I hated to stop, I did. “You should go, peque. Come on—I’ll walk you out.”
“Yeah.” She shifted. “You’re right. We can’t get carried away here.”
I hugged her shoulders and led her to the door. Outside, she brushed her lips across my cheek and waved. “See you tonight, Ash.”
“Take care, mi nina.”
Leaning against the motorhome, I watched her hurry toward the offices. She was risking everything to see me; I was too selfish not to let her. After she disappeared, I went inside, finished dressing, and answered Ale’s texts—we were meeting later.
Five minutes later, as I locked the motorhome, footsteps thudded behind me.
“Champ.”
Not him.
I turned. Ethan stood there, toying with his keys. My gut tightened the way it always did when we crossed paths. “Ethan,” I said. “Heading out?”
“Yeah.” He shoved the keys into his khaki pocket. “Although my home life sure isn’t as interesting as yours.”
“What do you mean?” I stepped closer, slow.
“Don’t act clueless, champ.” He smirked. “I saw her leave—flustered. I don’t blame you. She looks innocent, but come on. Those perfect tits aren’t for nothing.”
Blood roared in my ears. My hands shook with rage. This was bait—exactly the reaction he wanted: a confession, a ruin.
I should’ve walked away. Instead Ethan leaned in. “Too tempting. Sleeping under the same roof, knowing she’s dying for someone to fuck that tight little pussy.”
I snapped. Vision tunneled. I grabbed his collar and slammed a fist into his jaw. He cursed and staggered. “Not my fault your sister’s a slut.”
That was it. I tackled him, raining blows onto his face. Blood spurted from his nose. He flailed, throwing wild punches, but I kept him down—knee into ribs, hand at his throat. Every hit blurred together: my anger, his insults, the smell of sweat and oil.
“Asher!” Ale’s voice cut across the lot, but it didn’t stop me. Ethan was going to pay for what he’d said.
“Asher, goddamn it!” Ale seized my shoulders and hauled me back.
“Let me go!” I thrashed, heart pounding, red fog crawling at the edges of my sight. How dare he talk about her like that?
Ale grabbed his phone. “He isn’t moving. For fuck’s sake—we need an ambulance.”
He hauled Ethan up and checked him while I stood heaving, palm clamped over my mouth, lungs burning for air.
Ethan lay sprawled in a puddle of blood. A weak moan escaped him, and Ale exhaled hard, rubbing his forehead. “Thank fuck he’s alive. Joder, chico. ?Joder!”
He pressed his phone to his ear. I swayed, legs too heavy to move. I was going to be sick.
Warm hands gripped my biceps. I swallowed, fighting for breath.
Dawson guided me toward the motorhome. “Come on, Ash. Sit.”
An ambulance wailed in the distance. Another suit-clad figure sprinted across the lot.
Russell.