Page 2 of All That Glitters (Endurance #1)

Brax was there to do a job, same as me. He was a damn good driver, had speed to match my own.

He’d gone to college instead of straight into full-time professional racing, paid his dues as my shadow and running as a fill-in whenever anyone needed him.

He needed a full-time seat to come open and then he’d be challenging my dominance on the track.

Once upon a time I’d have welcomed it, looked forward to it.

But not now. Not this season. Not next season, either.

Every other driver on the circuit was an enemy.

Even the one who was the back-up, my back-up.

“I’m ready and you’ll be waiting again. Sorry, man.”

I didn’t give him a chance to reply. I made my way down the rest of the stairs with a grimace of pain on my face and pushed my way out the doors.

An enclosed walkway led from the corporate offices of Glitterati Racing to the garage.

Glass on each side kept me dry, but I think I’d have welcomed the pounding rain on my skin.

Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so caged in, so claustrophobic.

I wanted a way out of myself.

I wanted a way out of the memories.

I wanted a way back to who I was before.

My therapists, my doctors… They’d all suggested that maybe I shouldn’t race again, that maybe I should find something else to do in the field I’d grown up loving or find something else altogether.

I dismissed every word. I was born to race cars and no way was a near death experience going to take that from me.

They’d have to pry my dead hands from a wheel.

The thought caused me to stumble and I pressed my hand against the glass to keep from tipping over completely. I leaned my forehead against the cool wall and gathered myself, taking deep breaths. This was not the place for a panic attack.

The garage entrance was only a few feet away and I pushed forward, past the fear.

I needed to get my shit together. My father hadn’t said those words, but I could read between the lines.

He knew everything that happened on this secluded piece of property, including every time I’d entered the garage since being cleared.

It took every bit of effort, mentally, at least, to pull the door open once I wrapped my hand around the handle.

My whole body shook as I pushed myself inside and more sweat beaded along my forehead.

My heart thundered in my chest and for a moment, my vision clouded. I could’ve so easily passed out.

“As I live and breathe. Ashton Glitterati is gracing me with his presence.”

I turned my head in the direction of the voice. Karl Kasen. Championship car chief.

“Shit. Don’t be like that.” I grinned. “Hey man.”

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come see me. We’re cutting it close.” He started to close the distance between us and I forced myself to meet him halfway. I could do this. I could do all of this.

“Missed me, have you?”

We hugged when we were close enough and I didn’t hug just anyone. I was grateful for the embrace, though. It gave me a chance to hold onto something solid and blink a few times. I couldn’t risk being seen with confusion or anything less than sharp focus in my eyes.

“You know the answer to that,” he said when we parted. His features began to clear and his shrewd gaze unnerved me a little. He didn’t miss anything. “How are you feeling?”

Scared shitless. “I’m good.”

Lying to Karl wasn’t something I should ever do and it wasn’t something I’d ever done before.

Lying to him could lead to some very bad results both in the car and out of it.

I’d known him since I started racing. He’d worked on every race car I’d driven, from karts all the way to the series championship a couple of seasons ago.

Hell, he taught me everything I knew.

And the wreck had been hard on him, too.

I hadn’t paid enough attention to anyone else really to understand how what happened on the track affected them.

No driver raced without a hell of a lot of help.

I’d been stuck in my own world, though. I was still stuck in my own world, but I honestly didn’t know how else to be anymore.

No one else could recover for me. No one else could fix what was wrong with me. No one else could get me through this. Not this part of it.

I’d never felt so alone.

If I told him the truth, he’d try to help me work through it, but it would also mean that I’d be forced to sit out the start of the season and maybe even for the duration until the start of next season.

So, I had to lie.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Why doesn’t anyone believe me when I say that?”

“Because you’ve been through some kind of hell, that’s why. It would be more than okay if you said you weren’t good.”

I pondered my next words carefully.

“We both know I can’t do that.”

His eyes narrowed and I fought the urge to hide. I faced his scrutiny with a defiance I needed to cloak myself in. It needed to become my armor.

“Okay. What are you here for? You don’t want to take a car out in this mess, do you? Not for your first time in months…”

“No. But I… I want to see the car.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea, Ash?”

“Maybe not, but I need to.”

He stared at me, challenging my words without saying anything. I sighed.

“It’s another piece of the puzzle I need to face. I don’t think I can put it fully behind me if I don’t see it for myself. Please tell me you understand that, Karl.”

I didn’t know what more to say, but it didn’t seem that I needed to say anything else. He nodded, albeit reluctantly, and turned around, walking toward the set of double doors at the back of the room.

I took a deep breath to steady myself as a line of cars came into view, their gleaming wraps mirrored on the highly polished floor.

I missed the sights, the smells, the precious atmosphere. I’d taken all this for granted and I chastised myself for it. It was hallowed ground just as the tracks were. It was gifted to so few people at a time, gifted to the most worthy.

My fingers trembled as I reached out to touch the hood of what would be my car. It was in perfect, unblemished condition. It was ready for the hauler, for the track, for the race in a couple of weeks. On the outside.

But was it ready for me?

I curled my hand into a fist and shoved it down into my pocket.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t.”

He led the way to another door and handed over a set of keys.

After giving me one last wary look, he walked away, leaving me to face this particular demon alone.

Through the rain, I could just make out the small building, no bigger than a single car garage.

All our wrecked cars ended up there after a race so the engineers and technicians and mechanics could do a deep dive into what held together and what didn’t.

I quickly crossed the distance, soaked to the skin within three steps. I said I would welcome it, and that was good because I was in the fucking thick of it.

I slid the key in the lock with a shaking hand, then punched in the security code. One lock clicked loose. I turned the key and the second lock let go.

Lights flickered on as soon as I stepped inside.

Immediately, my breath caught in my throat and my knees dropped me to the floor. For once, the pain was welcome.

In the center of the room were the remains of my wrecked car. There was nothing to salvage. There was nothing solid left of the frame. There was nothing solid left at all. The seat was bent and crumpled. The steering column was twisted and hanging.

Kneeling where I was, safe and sound, I could feel the heat from the flames as they erupted, then centralized. I could smell the oil. I could feel the initial pain, the shock, the out of body experience. I could feel how trapped I was.

Nausea filled my entire body and I crawled to the nearby trash can. I barely made it before my stomach forced everything up my throat and out my mouth. I wretched, over and over, heaving the meager contents into the can.

When I was sure I was finished, I leaned back against the wall and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.

It was several long minutes more before I climbed to my feet and inched closer.

Slowly, so fucking slowly, I made my way around the car, studying every part of it, committing it to memory.

Axles were bent in ways they were never intended to bend.

The car was unrecognizable. There was no color to it save for black and gray. The once bright teal of the wrapping was gone.

Looking at the guts of my car, the anger, familiar and strangely comforting, took over.

As I stared at the car, and as the realizations and memories flooded my mind, the anger became an animal all unto itself, stunning me in its ferocity.

I didn’t know that I’d ever come back from it if I let it take me.

Worse… I didn’t know that I’d want to come back from it.

When I stood next to what had been the cockpit, the driver’s seat, my seat, I pulled my phone from my pocket and took a picture of it.

Then, I dialed up the man responsible.

“Ashton?” Hale said by way of greeting. “Hey man.”

“We need to talk.”

And I would process later how it felt to hear his voice after all these months and why it hurt, why it turned some of the anger to sadness…

“Okay. When?”

“Tomorrow. Noon. I’ll come there.”

“Sure. Whenever. I wanted to —”

I didn’t let him finish. I hung up before he could.

I would do what my father needed me to do. I’d meet with Hale. I’d say whatever I needed to say to get back in a car. I’d play all the parts just right.

But I’d never forget.

And one of these days, when no one expected it, I’d make Hale Troye pay.