Chapter 18 Dean
EIGHTEEN
DEAN
After riding with Regan a couple of days ago, the guys have been giving me endless shit about it. It hasn’t stopped, especially since I’m crashing with Taylor. I’d originally asked Chase and he’d agreed, but once I got there, changed his tune. He was weird about it for some reason.
Inside Taylor’s place, we are hanging out and relaxing a bit before the start of today’s race. I’m starting to get into my fire suit when Taylor asks me a question.
“You heard about the gala in a few weeks, right?”
He’s scrolling through his phone, still in his street clothes. I don’t understand how he waits until the last minute to get ready.
“Yeah. sounds like a bore. Too bad it’s mandatory for all the drivers to be there.” I head into the small bathroom to change. Taylor raises his voice so that I can hear him through the door.
“Are you planning to bring anyone? Or any grid girls to share?” I hear a small chuckle from him through the thin walls of the bus.
I haven’t really thought about bringing anyone, I know we all get a plus one, but I just figured I’d go alone. Didn’t even consider my revolving door of grid girls to ask one of them. My DMs have been full, but I haven’t looked at a single one. My mind wanders back to my almost kiss with Regan…
Nope. No. I can’t be thinking about Brady right now. I’m supposed to be focusing like I promised Tom and the team. I owe it to them to do well today. I just spent too much time with her in the car to get here and it’s messing with my head. Yeah, that has to be it.
I can’t take her to the gala. Can I?
I zip up the fire suit and step back into the living room. Taylor is still scrolling on his phone.
“No. I’ll just go alone. Grid girls aren’t gala material.”
Taylor huffs a laugh. “Fair. I guess going alone is the only option.” Something in his tone is slightly sad.
Wonder what that’s about. He’s seemed more glued to his phone as of late.
Could he also not be able to bring the person he wants to?
I think about asking, but decide not to.
Saves from having any imposing questions coming my way.
Finally, he gets up to start getting ready in the back bedroom. I grab my gloves and walk out to the hauler for our team meeting before the race starts. I need to keep focused—road courses can be tricky. One missed turn or shift can mean an early end to your day.
Luckily, I’m starting on the pole today, so that eases some of my worries. Next to superspeedways, road courses are some of my favorite tracks to compete at.
I’m dominating this race. I’ve led most of the day except when I got shuffled back in a round of pit stops. I’ve been able to work my way back into the top five while Brad Hopkins, a known road racer who only races at these tracks, has control of the field.
With fifteen laps to go, another caution is waved. A car has spun around and can’t get it refired. There haven’t been too many cautions in this race to begin with. A lot of times, drivers will spin out and end up far enough off the track where we can still run at full speed safely.
Everyone comes down pit road, and it’s busy. Cars move in and out of their pit stalls and do their best not to hit anyone. Steve calls for four tires and fuel, and I’m able to claim the third spot for the restart.
While I’ve been up front most of the day, I know Regan has been struggling.
With her poor starting position, and the fact that she’s not good at these types of tracks, she’s losing a lot of points that I’m about to gain.
Usually, I’d be ecstatic about that fact.
But I feel sort of bad for her that she’s not having a good day.
The race starts again, and I get a good start going into the first few turns. Brad Hopkins easily retakes the lead over Greyson, and soon, I’m right at his bumper.
My radio buzzes with Steve’s voice. “You’re doing great, Dixon. Hold that position if you can. Brady is still in the back.”
“How far back is she?”
“Far enough. If by some miracle she gets close, I’ll tell you.”
I’m relieved for once that I don’t have to worry about where Regan is. I can just focus on the race in front of me. Something else pangs in my stomach…concern. Concern for what? That she’s having a bad race? What the fuck is wrong with me?
The checkered flag waves and it’s Brad who gets the win, although I’m able to hold onto my third place position. I’m told that Regan finished back in twenty-second. That pang in my stomach returns as I hear that news.
Seriously, what is the deal?
I bring my car back down pit road and climb out.
I’m able to see Regan get out of her own car, and she looks pissed.
Clearly upset from her poor performance of the day.
She’s stopped for some interviews, and I just can’t take my eyes off her.
A hand on my shoulder pulls me away from staring at her, and I turn to face Steve.
“Great job today. Way to snag those points.”
“Yeah, it was a good day.” I have to force a smile, but I don’t know why.
I should be happy. I’m closer to Regan in the points now, and there is a chance I can easily pass her, claim the championship, and snatch the Cup spot.
But I can’t get rid of this feeling of wanting to make Regan feel better.
That feeling of wanting to be the shoulder that she can cry on.
It doesn’t take long for that feeling to be snuffed out by Ian coming up to me. I don’t know what he wants, but it can’t be anything good.
“Dixon, how does still being behind Brady feel for you?” he asks, his eyes telling me that he’s here to fight fire with fire.
“Shouldn’t I be asking you the same question, Hicks?” I fold my arms across my chest and smirk. Last I checked, he was still fourth in points, and unless something drastic happens, he won’t be able to catch Regan or me.
He’s shorter than me by a few inches, but I can tell he works out a bit too much, probably to overcompensate for something smaller. I take in his styled brown hair, not sure how it stays that way after three hours inside a helmet.
“Better check the standings, Dixon. Won’t be that way for long.” He chuckles to himself. I grab my phone out of my pocket and open the SCORS app to see what the standings are.
My eyes widen as I see that Hicks has passed Greyson for third. I look up to see the slimy smile on Hicks’ face.
“Counting down to my spot in the Cup series next year.” He turns on his heels and walks over the pit wall. I can feel my anger starting to build. How did this happen? How did no one tell me how close he was?
“What the hell is this?” I ask Steve, shoving my phone in his face. He’s packing up the toolbox when he takes my phone from my hand to look at it.
“I didn’t want you to worry about it. We are focused on Brady. Something drastic would have to happen in order for him to pass you, and to even dream of catching up to Brady.”
“You should have told me. He just blindsided me with it.” I snatch my phone back and shove it back into the pocket of my fire suit. It’s bad enough that I have to worry about Regan, and now I have to worry about Ian, too.
“Look, I would have told you if it were relevant. All we have to do is stay the course we planned out. We will get that Cup spot, Dean.”
I don’t reply and just stare at him. How can he be so calm about all this? I huff before he starts speaking again.
“Look, have I been wrong yet?” His eyes give me a gentle look instead of the intense one I usually get.
“No,” I breathe out.
“Exactly. I got this. You focus on the car and driving the fuck out of it.”
“Fine.”
I run into Chase and Taylor leaving their own haulers on my way back to the infield, and they stop me.
“A group of us are heading out to dinner tonight. Want to come along? You can ride with me,” Taylor asks.
“Sure. I’m in.” I see Regan exit her own hauler and some weird urge to talk to her takes over, to invite her out with everyone. “Let me know when y’all are ready to go.” Chase and Taylor head toward their RVs, and I run to catch up with Regan.