Page 88 of Collided (Dirty Air 2)

“And you got that in the few minutes you spoke with her? I’m surprised you could speak with all your Cupid-level scheming.”

My mom pinches my cheek. “You’ll thank me for it later. You used to love coming home for the holidays.”

“Yeah, things change.” I take a chug of my beer.

My dad excuses himself with a wary glance, leaving me alone with my mom.

She nudges me in the ribs. “Lukas told me you planned a day with him at the track tomorrow.”

Blame Sophie and her fake therapy sessions for my bravery. I can’t deny my fear of spending time alone with him after years of circling around each other, never talking about Johanna or spending more than the necessary amount of time with him and my nieces.

“My brother duties are long overdue. He’s going to love what I planned.”

“He told me about it multiple times this week. I haven’t heard him sound this excited to spend time with you in a while. And we’ll all be there on Sunday to cheer you on. Your dad tried on his old shirt to make sure it fit over his recent weight gain, but I told him beer bodies are still in.” She waves at my dad across the patio. His eyes follow her everywhere, still obsessing over her after thirty-one years together.

I lift a brow. “I think you mean dad bods. You know I can send you all new gear.”

“We don’t like to fuss over those kinds of things, especially if you may not be there for much longer. Any news about next year?”

I’d rank her transition as smooth as driving an F3 car.

“Some news.” I leave it simple, not sure if now is a good time to talk about it.

My mom tugs on my earlobe like I’m three years old again. “Spit it out.”

“Ay. No need to get physical. McCoy offered me an extension with similar pay.” I battle between a smile and a scowl.

“Then why don’t you look happy?”

“Because the stipulations include staying away from Sophie.” I let out a deep breath, the heavy weight of my secret sitting against my lungs, accompanied by guilt.

My mom looks at me with wide eyes and pursed lips, making soft wrinkles on her face more apparent. “Didn’t you tell me she’s going to go back to school anyway?”

I don’t know what to make of the burn in my chest when I think of Sophie leaving. Spending time with her has kept me sane this season, providing me with a steady friendship and a fuck ton of laughs.

“Right. She is. But…I mean, I don’t know. I can’t help feeling bad about signing a deal with that type of expectation. Sophie isn’t some dirty secret, she’s my friend…”

“And more.” My mom says it like a statement rather than a question.

“I don’t know. Maybe? I have no idea what to make of the feelings I’m experiencing. But Rick hasn’t mentioned anything about other teams, so it looks like McCoy or bust for the next season.”

“Sounds like you need to speak to your agent and keep an open mind. You still have plenty of races left, so teams can contact you and offer better deals if you hold on a bit longer. McCoy can wait. You’re one of the best out there, and you need to remember that. Maybe you need to follow your heart rather than a paycheck.” My mom wraps her small arms around me, tugging me in for a hug.

That’s the problem. I don’t understand my heart enough to follow it blindly.

She goes back to drinking in a corner with my dad, giggling at things he whispers in her ears. Both recently turned sixty and they still act like teenagers.

I stare at Sophie like a creeper across the yard. She dances around with Maya, switching between old eighties dance moves that should be long forgotten. Her terrible running man makes her shoes sparkle under the string lights.

I go up to them and ask Sophie to dance. She looks over at Maya for saving, but her best friend walks off toward Jax, leaving us alone. Next time I see Noah, I need to smack him because Maya’s a cool chick who takes our shit with a smile.

“Just so you know, I have two left feet. Seriously. There’s a reason I don’t dance at the galas.”

“All 100 pounds of you can step on my toes. Doubt I’d feel it.”

“One: I love pasta way too much to weigh 100 pounds. And two: you asked for it.” She grabs my stretched-out hand.

A familiar buzz runs through me as I grip her hand. It’s unlike anything I’ve experienced before, accompanied by a constant itch to be near Sophie. I wrap my other arm around her. She doesn’t take me up on my offer to step on my feet, but she lets me lead her around the dance floor. We sway to the melody playing from the speakers.