Chapter 32 #2
Mack pushed away Leo because she wanted to protect both Shaw and her reputation.
Her reputation was garbage now, but still she couldn’t imagine opening Shaw up to heartbreak and exposure if Mack pursued something with Leo and it didn’t work out.
Mack could hardly imagine opening herself to it.
But she pictured Leo handing over the keys to the car he’d built with his own hands, putting his faith in her after she’d shut him out repeatedly.
Was she right to push him away from herself and, possibly, eventually, Shaw?
She’d put Leo firmly in the category of things she could not have, but what about what Mack deserved?
After so many years of deprivation and denial, after being released from the family business and Wes’s caretaking, what could she allow herself to have?
Surrounded on both sides by grandstands, she remembered how, as little girls, she and Laurie begged Wes to buy seats in this section so they could see the start-finish line, but her dad insisted they sit in turn three.
He swore they were the best seats in the arena, with sight lines coming out of turn two, down the entire backstretch, all of turn three, the short chute, and a solid sight line of turn four.
They grew to love the seats, learning firsthand to sit where they could see most of the racing, not only who won or lost.
Racing. Winning. Losing.
Even the best drivers in history lost more races than they ever won, yet they continued to get in the car and floor the throttle anyway.
Every driver’s ultimate goal was winning, but no one would race—and take on the risks—if they didn’t enjoy what happened in between the start and finish.
Before her first race, Wes had gotten down on his knees, pulled her hands into his own, and said, “Spec, you can’t choose everything that happens to you in a race, but you can choose to never, ever quit.
That’s what racing really is. It’s not always the best driver who wins the race, but the driver who refuses to give up.
” The words looped in her head, drawled in Wes’s slow Hoosier accent, as if he were sitting next to her on the bricks.
Mack looked out at the grandstands and watched them disappear around the turns.
Over the years, she’d let the dream of the Indy 500 become bigger than any other element in her life except for Shaw.
She’d wanted to race here above everything else, and when that dream disappeared, she let all of racing disappear, too.
She’d been afraid Kelley would take Shaw away, and she’d let that fear keep her quiet and small.
Laurie had hurt her, big and blindsiding, and Mack had never let her back into her confidence.
She’d taken every one of her responsibilities and heartbreaks—Shaw, Kelley, Wes, Laurie, the dirt track—and treated them as impenetrable roadblocks.
Mack had been so focused on the finish line of her life, so focused on the one win she would never have, that she’d forgotten to run the rest of the damn race. Hell, she’d stopped pulling up to the starting line.
She’d thought she’d had no choice, but she hadn’t even let herself consider options until that night Janet showed up and forced her hand.
Until Laurie let her move in without a single question.
Until Leo encouraged Mack to be herself, then told her that her ugly, unruly parts didn’t make her unworthy.
Now she was surrounded by choices: where to live, what to do with her life, how to create new relationships with her family. How to get in the car and race.
Maybe Leo was right: She’d lost the Indy 500 today, but it didn’t have to be the end of racing. Of her second chance. Of anything.
She got to choose the direction of her life.
She’d always protect Shaw above all else, but maybe Mack could do more than just protect. Maybe she could buckle Shaw in tight, stop looking in her rearview mirror, and drive the damn car forward toward something instead of staying parked in place.
There was a lot of race left to run, and Mack refused to give up on herself any longer.
With one last glance at the Speedway, she jogged back to Leo’s trailer.
She couldn’t figure out her entire life tonight, but she could steer toward one thing she knew she wanted.
Leo answered her knock, hair sleep-mussed but his eyes warm and welcoming.
He stood several steps above her, and Mack tilted her head up to study him.
“I don’t know where this leads,” she whispered.
“We don’t have to have a map,” Leo said softly, stepping down until he stood barefoot in the grass next to her.
They could do such damage. He could hurt her, or Mack could hurt him more than she already had.
They could crash out. But they’d never know if they didn’t start the engine and see where the road led.
Slowly, Mack stepped forward until they were close enough to feel each other’s body heat.
Leo waited patiently, his breaths audible but his body still.
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him, gently at first and then firm and fast, trying to say everything she couldn’t say with words.
With her body, she told him what she needed, what she wanted, until he grabbed her by the waist and lifted her up the stairs of the RV.