Chapter 8 Amy
Thank God I’ve been acing my industrial mechanics class—I manage to get through my exam in record time, despite my mind being totally elsewhere.
Today’s Thursday, and in less than an hour, I’ll be on my way to Brooklyn. It’s been eight months since I was last in town, and I still can’t believe I’m going home. Back to the hornet’s nest. I’m officially insane.
I have to level with myself, here—part of me is psyched to be heading back to see my old buddies. It’s just a shame I have all these resolutions I’m supposed to be keeping.
I can’t believe some asshole stole a car, and it just happens to belong to the only guy I would travel back to New York for.
Anyone else, I’d have let them figure their shit out by themselves, like a big boy.
But when I saw Lewis in the garage, all crumpled face and balled-up fists, I didn’t even have to think about it.
I made a few calls to New York without missing a beat. How pathetic is that?
That’s not what I’ve been obsessing over since last night, though.
Lewis nagged me to tag along, and I don’t know what I was thinking.
I said yes—and that was for sure a mistake.
A big one. He has no idea what New York has in store for him, and I don’t want him rubbing up against the old me.
He already thinks I’m some hopeless case since he saw me out there at the race.
But this? The New York version of Amy Hitman? I shudder.
I can’t do this. I can’t let him come with me.
“Okay!” The teacher claps his hands. “Pens down. Enjoy your vacation, everyone!”
He narrows his eyes at me. He’s wary of me, I know—I’ve been done for a solid fifteen minutes now.
I flash him an awkward smile, which is progress, coming from me.
Raven would be so proud—the old me would’ve just flipped him off.
Speaking of Raven… I asked RJ to cover for me over the next two days, and I’m hoping the baby brain makes her gobble up whatever lie he throws her way.
The last thing I need right now is an overprotective sister on my back.
I pack away my things, my hand shaking as I scoop up my pens, and head straight out to my car.
My bag is ready and waiting in the trunk.
I’m good to go. I’m supposed to head over to pick up Lewis from his place in two hours, and I’m pretty sure he’ll lose his shit once he realizes I hit the road without him, but that’s a problem for future Amy. By that point, I’ll be long gone.
Things with us were already tense, anyway. All that’ll happen is he’ll end up hating me a little more, which should help me like him a little less. A foolproof plan, basically.
I get comfy in my seat, swap my heels for my good old sneakers, and take a deep breath. Eight hours of open road—more than enough time to hatch the ultimate solution to this absolute mess.
I duck down to slip on my second sneaker, and I’m straightening in my seat when the passenger door flies open.
I whip around to find Lewis sitting there to my right. He nudges my jaw closed with a finger.
I hadn’t realized my mouth was hanging open.
“How’s it going, Amy?”
“What’re you doing?” I manage after a beat.
“Thought I’d come meet you here, instead.” He smiles sweetly. “Don’t ask me why, but I just got this crazy hunch you’d be bailing.”
He taps the side of his nose, and I clench my jaw. I can think of at least a dozen insults I’d love to fling his way. I thought he might head to New York without me—I hadn’t expected him to ambush me. How’d he know where to find me?
He pushes back his seat and settles in deeper, buckling himself in before turning to me with a shit-eating grin.
“You ready to roll, or do you need to swing by your place first?”
I could technically strong-arm him out of my car, and there’s a part of me that really wants to.
But here I am, completely defenseless yet again.
I need to get my shit together, and fast. I can’t afford to show the faintest flicker of weakness, considering everything Brooklyn has in store for me.
Or everything Brooklyn has in store for us, more like.
I give myself a mental bitch slap and fire up the car. It’s his Dodge, after all. What did he call it? His “baby.” It makes sense that he’d want to be involved. I’d do the same. I’d probably do worse, actually.
I suppress a sigh.
“Let’s do this, I guess.”
Just under six hundred miles ahead of us. My chest tightens at the thought of spending the next forty-eight hours with him. Good thing I seem to have regained full use of my motor skills today.
I’m busy talking to myself when Lewis yawns for the fifth time in a row. What a great copilot. Seriously, he’s worse than my nephew, Joey. If he does it again, I might just take advantage of his wide-open mouth and shove two fingers down his throat.
Then it hits me that it’s only been a day since the theft. No wonder he’s having trouble sleeping. I’d be like a caged animal. Speaking from experience, here.
“Bad night’s sleep?”
“Yeah.” He sighs, rubbing his face. “I was up all night thinking about the Dodge. It’s driving me crazy.”
“I get it.”
He glances at me. “That ever happen to you?”
“When I was sixteen.” I nod. “I was so pissed; it’s like I had lost my mind.”
“Did you get the car back?”
“I did. Took me three days, though. Three days of insanely high blood pressure. When I finally caught the guy, I may or may not have threatened him with a tire iron.”
He laughs. “See, coming from anyone else, I’d question how true that story is. But with you… Why am I not even surprised? You’re something else, Hitman.”
“Hey, don’t look at me like that! That’s just how we deal with our shit, where I’m from.”
“Brooklyn, you mean?”
He remembered—and I don’t know why, but it catches me off guard.
“We gonna have to break some collarbones to get my car back?”
“Not necessarily.”
“I’ll do whatever it takes.”
I glance at him. He sounds deadly serious. It’s kind of scary. And I kind of love it.
He starts yawning again. Never mind.
“I meant to ask—why did we have to leave today? We could’ve set off tomorrow,” he says, settling deeper into the seat. “Not that I’m complaining, or anything. The sooner the better.”
“You really want me to break it down for you?”
“Hey, you’re in charge—but this is my baby we’re talking about. It’s not like we’re going day-tripping. You should probably give me a heads-up, or something.”
I nod thoughtfully. “Okay. This is one long-ass trip, so we’ll take a nap break before we get there.
We’ll see how far we can get before we need to stop, and then we’ll find somewhere to crash.
We need to keep our strength up. Friday night could be pretty…
intense,” I add. “Plus, we’ll be hanging around the track tomorrow. Doing our best to try and blend in.”
And making sure we’re ready if shit gets real.
“What’s this meet thing, anyway?”
I shoot him a look. “You know Worthington? Well, imagine that times a million. Way more cars, way more people. Way higher stakes.”
He nods slowly, his gaze drifting over the dashboard.
“And you don’t have to come,” I remind him. “You can opt out at any point. Wait for me back at the hotel. Like I said—I know this isn’t your scene.”
“You think I’m a wuss? Just because I’m not a bad boy doesn’t mean I’m not a man.”
I can’t help but laugh at that. “Okay, okay, man!”
“Except it’s not okay,” he sulks.
“Hey, I was planning on having quiet time on the road, man. We don’t have to talk, you know.”
“Just trying to distract myself.” He thinks for a moment. “What if the Dodge isn’t there? Then what?”
“Then it’s back to the drawing board. We’ll just have to cross our fingers and hope RJ picks it up sometime.”
“Okay…”
Except it’s not okay.
I really feel like baiting him, but I can feel the edginess coming off him in waves, and I decide to drop it. Driving in silence suits me better, anyway.
From that point on, he doesn’t say a word, and when I glance over, his eyes are closed.
Seeing him asleep like that is a relief.
My legs relax, and I hit the gas, pushing the car hard in a bid to put time and miles behind us.
By the time nine swings around, I’m starting to feel hungry, and it’s like Lewis has read my mind.
“Snack break?”
I shake my head. “Let’s push on; I’ll turn off at the next exit and we’ll grab a drive-through.”
“You eat in your car?” He sounds outraged.
“Not normally, no. But there’s nothing normal about this situation, right?” I glance at him. “You get crumbs on my seats, though, and I’m warning you—you’ll be hitchhiking to New York.”
“Understood, Officer. I’ll take over so you can eat.”
I hesitate, then nod. “Sure.”
We turn off to refuel, get food, and switch drivers.
“You’re cool with me driving your Pontiac?” he asks as he hits the gas.
I take a chunk out of my burger. “Lucky for you, I’ve got something to bite down on.”
“She’s pretty sweet, by the way. Really hugs the blacktop.”
“Yeah, I’m kinda obsessed,” I manage between chews.
“How’d you end up a gearhead?”
“I have my dad to thank for that.” Keep it simple. “How ’bout you?”
“I think I’m adopted—my parents’ taste in cars is embarrassing.”
“What do they drive?”
He shakes his head. “Sorry, Amy, but I’m finding this too triggering to share.” He shoots me a smile. “Guess time doesn’t heal all wounds.”
“You dumbass.” I laugh. “So if your parents weren’t your inspiration, who was?”
“I can’t remember, exactly.” He frowns. “I think I’ve just loved cars since I was little. My grandma’s neighbor had this Corvette, I spent hours watching him fix it up in the street.”
“You always had the Dodge?”
“No, I used to have a Mustang. Then I sold it to get the Dodge.”
“I had a Mustang, too,” I blurt out before I can stop myself. “It was my dad’s, actually. He taught me to drive in it.”
“You trade it in, too?”
“Nope. Went for scrap after it crashed.”
“Damn!” His eyes widen. “You couldn’t get it repaired?”
“No.”