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“I’m going to throw my suitcases in the car,” I say pleasantly. “And I thought maybe we could get coffee on the way?”

This is a bit sneaky, since I know it means we’ll have to leave a bit earlier. My mother manages a watery smile in response.

Her car is parked in our driveway. As I heave the second suitcase into the trunk, I see the neighbor’s kids approaching on

their bikes. I wave at them politely. This should kill a few more minutes.

“Nice bikes,” I say.

“We got them for Christmas,” says the older kid, Oliver.

“Very cool,” I say. Oliver’s younger brother, Mason, smiles at me shyly.

“Are you leaving?” Oliver asks.

“Yep. Heading back to London. I’m going to be living there now.”

They both look suitably impressed, which is nice. “Are you on a race team again?” Mason asks.

“Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

“That’s so cool,” Mason says.

I smile. “It is cool,” I agree.

“Is Travis Keeping going to come back here again?” Oliver asks.

I blink. “Is—what?”

“Travis Keeping,” Oliver says. “We saw him talking to your mom. We were wondering...” He glances at Mason. “If he comes

back, could you get him to sign our bike helmets?”

My whole body’s gone cold. Mason and Oliver are both staring at me eagerly. I force a rictus smile to my face. “When did you see Travis Keeping here?”

“A little while ago,” Oliver says.

“It was a snow day!” Mason adds.

A little while ago.

I try to sound casual. “Do you remember the date?”

They look at each other uncertainly, shaking their heads. Of course they don’t know the date. They’re kids.

But then Mason brightens. “Oh! I know! It was March fifth. ’Cause Steven’s birthday party was s’posed to be that day, but

it got canceled ’cause of the snow. ’Member, Oliver?”

Oliver nods vigorously.

March fifth.

I flew to London on the last day of February. I saw Travis with that guy on March first. Which means he came to see me after that.

My heart is pounding hard in my chest. “You guys said you saw him talking to my mom?”

They both nod eagerly. “He didn’t stay very long,” Oliver says. “I was gonna get my helmet and ask him to sign it, but by

the time I got it he was already gone.”

“Do you think he’ll come back soon?” Mason adds.

I force a thin smile, trying to hide the fury bubbling in my chest. “I don’t think so. But I’ll tell you what, if I see him

again, I’ll ask him to sign something for both of you, okay?”

They both beam and thank me, then their mom appears on their front step, yelling at them to stop bothering me. I manage to

smile and wave as they head inside, but I’m so mad, I can hear my pulse thudding in my ears.

I walk back into the house. My parents are both in the living room watching the news. I pick up the remote and turn the TV

off.

“We don’t have to leave for another ten minutes—” my mother starts.

“Did Travis come here?” I interrupt.

She looks startled. “What?”

“The Hilton kids just said they saw you talking to Travis on March fifth,” I snap. “Are they lying? Or was he here?”

She glances at my father, visibly discomfited. “Well—I’m not sure—”

“He was here,” my father cuts in. “And he was extremely rude to your mother. He’s lucky I wasn’t here when it happened.”

I let out a cold laugh. “Why? What would you have done? Beat him up?”

“You think it’s okay that he yelled at your mother?”

My narrowed gaze moves to my mother. I can’t picture Travis yelling. Not unless the situation called for it. “Did he?” I demand.

“Did he actually yell at you?”

“He made your mother cry,” my father snaps.

“Everything makes her cry,” I snap back. “I asked you a question. Did he actually yell at you?”

My mother’s mouth is pressed together tightly. “He called me childish,” she says.

I almost laugh. I can hear him saying it, in his flattest, most cutthroat media voice. My heart is racing, and my skin is

thrumming with adrenaline.

“You are childish,” I say. “Both of you are.”

My father’s mouth opens furiously, but I speak over him.

“Neither of you have even mentioned Travis since the crash. Not once.” My hands curl into fists as I realize how ridiculous it is. I lived here for months, and

not once did they say anything. “What do you think would happen? If you pretended it didn’t happen, I’d just miraculously become straight?”

My father’s face goes dark red. “You are straight.”

“And that horrible boy nearly ruined your life,” my mother says.

“How?” I demand. “How did he ruin my life ? By being really nice to me all the time? Helping me be a better driver? Always believing in me, even when I was a total

shit to him?”

“He would’ve ruined your career,” my father says coldly.

“The career you don’t even want me to have, you mean?”

His expression is ugly. “He would have made you a laughingstock.”

“Oh, fuck you.” The words burst out, cold and impatient. My mother gasps. I ignore her. “Fuck you for saying that. And fuck

you for thinking that it’s true.”

My father looks so angry, I honestly think he might hit me. Part of me hopes he does. My hands are fisted at my sides.

“How dare you speak to your mother and me like this?” he demands. “After everything we did for you. You got to race because

of us, in case you’ve forgotten. We sacrificed everything—”

“That’s not reasonable!” I snap. “I was six years old when I started karting. Do you think a fucking six-year-old understands

the concept of time and money? I don’t even remember most of it. If you didn’t want me to do it, or if we couldn’t have afforded it, you were adults, you could have said no.”

“You think I could say no to—to my little boy—” My mother’s voice breaks, but it does nothing to move me. This is all just

a show she’s putting on for herself.

“Yes, I think you could have said no. And I would’ve been mad for, like, a day, and then I would’ve watched fucking Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles or something and forgotten about it. Because I was six .”

“Ridiculous,” my father snaps.

“It is ridiculous!” I let out a strangled laugh. “It is ridiculous. You two did a lot of things for me. But you didn’t do them because I forced you to. And it’s completely unreasonable to hold everything you did for me as a kid over my head, like some sort of lifelong

ransom!”

“We just want you to be happy ,” my mother cries.

I throw my hands up and laugh again. “Well, living in London makes me happy. And trying to get back into racing makes me happy.

And being with Travis made me happy. So, are you sure you still want to stick with that line?”

My mother looks away from me, shaking her head in that stupid, heartbroken way, like she thinks there’s a sympathetic audience

watching somewhere.

“That’s enough,” my father says. “You need to apologize to your mother, right now.”

“No.”

His face is ruddy with anger. “I mean it. You need to climb down off this high horse you’ve created and apologize to your

mother. We are trying to stop you from ruining your life and making a fool out of yourself. You really think people are going

to support two drivers dating each other?” His voice is scornful. “The world’s not changed that much. F1 fans would tear you

apart.”

He’s practically spitting with anger, but as he’s speaking, my own fury vanishes, as though someone’s slapped me across the

face and woken me up. A voice is speaking in my ear, and I’m not sure if it’s Amanda’s voice or Kelsie’s or my own.

This is not reasonable. And I don’t have to stand here and listen to it.

“This is a waste of time,” I say quietly, almost to myself.

My voice sounds eerily calm after all the shouting.

I let out a breath and look my father in the eye.

“And you know what, even if you’re right about F1 fans, I don’t care.

I don’t live my life to please ignorant people.

And I don’t care about the opinions of small-minded idiots.

And on that note”—I look at my watch—“I’ve got a flight to catch.

Good luck with your lives. Feel free to reach out if you ever realize how despicably you’ve just behaved. ”

And with that, I turn my back on them and walk out of the house.