Page 20 of Wrecking Boundaries (SteelTrack Racing #2)

Sometimes, in your life, a decision looks like a good one. Right up until the moment you execute it. Then, you realize it’s fucking dumb as hell; only it’s too late to do anything about it.

This is one of those times.

I fucked up.

Badly.

I climb out of the car window and remove my helmet. Officials are already on the green with us, meaning the ambulance isn’t far behind them. I don’t even know who won the race—neither Boone Rivers nor me.

Boone’s car lies on its passenger side, and he’s still in it.

Shit.

I run towards him, only steps behind safety officials, and stop when a pair of gloves poke out his open window.

Relief fills me as a helmet follows, and then the rest of Boone Rivers. He takes a shaky step and bends down, putting each hand on his thighs for support before pulling himself straight.

The crowd’s cheer is deafening. Whoever won the race, Boone Rivers is its hero.

That makes me the villain.

“I’m fine. You aren’t putting me on a damn stretcher,” he yells at the officials as the ambulance drives up.

“Are you hurt?” I ask him. My voice is hoarse .

“You dumb fuck,” he says, enunciating every word. “That was amateur shit, Jake. What in the absolute fuck was that?”

We climb into the ambulance and sit opposite each other.

“A bad block,” I say, wanting to explain. It’s weak, and we both know it.

“You went more than halfway down the track. You don’t fucking cross like that, and you know it. You are better than that. You should have known better.”

I took a chance, and it backfired miserably. A one-year extension on my contract and bad news about my company will do that. We’re several races into the season, and I’m winless. Two races without a finish and a penalty in another means my chance of getting into the playoffs is steadily shrinking.

The move had long odds of success, but the race was mine if it worked.

Sarah probably witnessed it all. What is she thinking? It’s probably best that I don’t know.

I rub my sore neck and wonder how Boone feels. His accident was considerably worse than mine.

He pulls at his protective covering, and a shock of black hair greets me. Boone is taller than his sister, but their similar appearance is striking. If this were another driver, I’d launch into a different spiel. I can’t do that here.

“It was a bad move, and I’ll own it. I needed the chance and didn’t think,” I say.

“No, you didn’t because that’s how you drive. You treat this sport like a game, and you drive like a fucking amateur. If that’s what you want, the Cup Series isn’t the place for you. Try some bumper cars.”

Okay, that pisses me off. “You can yell at your employees all you want, but I don’t fucking work for you. So keep on spouting off and realize I don’t fucking care.”

“Consider yourself lucky because if it were up to me, you would already be out of Cup.”

“Unfortunately, not even nepo babies like you always get their way. Maybe you should go and call Daddy.”

The ambulance stops, and the attendants direct us to the med center. We stop at the closed doors, neither ready to stop our war of words.

Boone’s expression darkens as his lips slide into a snarl. “I can’t wait until your company goes bust, surfer boy, and I get to buy up the spare parts. You’re charter, too, yours specifically. I’ll go after your entire crew and take them away, one after the other.” He points at me.

How does he know? The only person who could tell him was Sarah. As much as I want to believe she wouldn’t tell anyone, especially Boone, her love for him has been the biggest obstacle in our relationship since the beginning.

If she were forced to pick between us, I would lose.

She already did it once.

I nearly shout more insults when instinct leads me elsewhere. “You aren’t better than me, as much as you might think. Everything you have in life is because of your rich daddy, including that car you get to drive every week. If it weren’t for him, you’d be begging sponsors to fund your mediocre piece of shit dirt track career until you wash up at thirty and find yourself selling used cars for a living.” I smile at the end of that speech because it felt good.

“Your career is done. This is your last season, I promise, and it’s going to be your personal hell.”

“You are welcome to try.”

A pair of doctors emerge from the med centers to force us in. We both follow without protest.

∞∞ ∞

I rub the back of my neck as the reporter approaches. “Good to see you, Chris,” I say, wanting to put him in a friendly mood.

It doesn’t work. “Any comment on the incident between you and Boone Rivers?”

My comment is that he can eat shit. A heaping bowl of shit.

I rub my hair. It’s damp, and Sarah is watching. “What’s there to say? I made a split decision, knowing there was a chance. I was wrong, and like others, I’m disappointed with today’s results.” My shoulders sag, and it isn’t an act. My statement is genuine, at least about the race itself. “When you’re in that final lap, going for the win, sometimes a big move pays off, and then there are days like today. There isn’t much else for me to say.”

“How does it feel to know your wreck allowed Boone Rivers’ teammate to take the win here at Martinsville?”

I draw back because that information is new. “Julian Murphy won? I’m genuinely pleased for him,” I say. The words are easy because I mean them. “Julian is a talented driver who makes the rest of us work for it. His victory was earned.”

Chris asks about my med center visit and a couple more technical ones before the interview ends. Almost immediately, he sprints to Boone, who stands nearby, pretending I don’t exist.

The interview is far enough away that I can’t hear it, but Boone’s glances in my direction and his body language are sufficient. The man hates my guts.

It’s mutual, asshole.

Sarah appears, with Maddie by her side like always. She stares, expressionless, but makes no move toward me. I’m not surprised.

As soon as the interview ends, Maddie throws herself at Boone. They embrace, and I turn away, feeling strangely uncomfortable.

Another reporter shows up. “Hi, Simon. How are you?” I say, starting right back in. Some interviews are a genuine blast, while others feel like a miserable chore. The ones tonight fall decidedly into the latter camp.

He starts with his questions, which are remarkably close to those in the last interview. I keep my smile bolted on, repeating my regret over how the race ended.

Through it all, Sarah tosses glances my way. Her crossed arms aren’t friendly, but she isn’t pretending I’m invisible. That’s something, right?

We’re near the end when Simon asks me another question: “This feud between you and Boone Rivers is now in its second season. Can we expect it to continue?”

Sarah’s watching, and I know she can hear me. “Not at all. We’re professionals, and whatever you see is limited to the race track.” I smile big as an idea hits me. “In fact, I’ll be his sister’s partner for an upcoming go-cart charity event. We’re both looking forward to working together.”

Boone not hearing is probably a good thing. Sarah’s hands drop as her mouth opens, confirming she listened to every word.

The interview ends, and I step towards her. The timing isn’t great, especially considering my recent exchange with her brother, but hearing her voice would make the day so much better.

Joey cuts me off before I can get to her. “How are you feeling? ”

Much worse now, thanks.

“Nothing a decent night of sleep won’t take care of.” I smile at him because we’re still teammates. “How did you do? I haven’t had a chance to review the results yet.”

“Twentieth. Hoped for better. Not enough to pull your stunt.” Joey laughs, and his expression reminds me of a weasel. “I admire your bravery like that, especially considering everything,” he says. Joey gestures towards the surrounding activity.

Behind him, Sarah observes the two of us. Her frown sharpens. She gives a single sharp nod before her lips tighten, and she turns away.

The Rivers’ crew all leave, probably to help Julian Murphy celebrate his win.

“You’ll find some courage before the season is done, I’m sure,” I tell him, stepping away. “All it will take is some effort. Congrats on your twentieth place, by the way. Great performance.”

∞∞∞

Alone in the RV, I check my phone. I’m still waiting for her response.

Jake: Can we talk? Please.

I reply to one of my sisters, reassuring her that I’m fine and not in any pain, while another message from my mom comes through.

I rub at my face, telling myself to answer.

Jake: Please let me explain.

There’s still no response, so I send another reassuring message to my entire family. Wrecks happen in this sport. They can look terrifying on a television set, but in-car safety features are excellent. I was never in any danger.

“How are you doing?” Derek asks as he enters the trailer.

“I want to go home.” It’s my first honest answer to that question so far.

“Flights in an hour. Are you going to tell me what happened after the wreck? Boone Rivers had a few unpleasant things to say about you.”

I repeat the early conversation, which earns a low whistle from Derek. “You think it’s that bad?” I ask him.

“I think conflict between you two will get worse.”

“Not helpful.”

I’m used to liking everyone I meet and having others feel the same about me. Boone Rivers is a rarity, someone who rubbed me the wrong way from the beginning. His grumpy attitude made it easy to poke him, which I used for my own purposes.

It’s morphing into something ugly, and I don’t like it.

“That guy has had everything in life handed to him,” I start, realizing I’m working myself up to a speech. “Car, team, company. Everything. He has no idea how difficult it is to break in when you have no family and no connections. He becomes the savior big brother, the father’s heir, the NASCAR prince. I got four little sisters that need to be taken care of, and my parent’s second mortgage.”

Derek’s only response is to set a bag of pretzels in my lap. “Start eating these. A little food in your stomach always helps.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Eat the damn food! I’ll make you a turkey sandwich.”

I eat some and check my phone—still no response from her.

He hands me the sandwich, and I quickly eat it. He was right; the food was helpful.

“Have you ever asked him?” Derek finally says.

“Asked who what?”

“I know your life hasn’t been easy. Hell, most people would have given up a long time ago. You don’t give up, Jake. You keep going and going. It’s one of the big reasons I enjoy working with you. Damn, for all that, you really can be a fucking idiot.”

My throat dries, so the final bite of food is difficult to swallow. “Excuse me.”

“Have you ever asked him? Everyone is carrying something; you aren’t the only one. Have you ever considered that maybe he does, too?”

Sarah’s devotion to him comes from somewhere. It’s probably why she told him about my company’s troubles.

I consider my reply. “We’ve never had an actual conversation, at least none I can remember. We’ve only ever yelled or threatened.”

My phone dings, and I pick it up. She finally replied.

Sarah: I need some time.

Our plane ride is in less than an hour, so we can’t meet that night, anyway.

Jake: No problem. We can meet tomorrow evening. I’ll make dinner again.

Sarah: You’re not understanding. I want time and space from you.

Jake: Can we talk, please?

Sarah: I’m not able to do that right now.

Jake: I can explain.

Sarah: I’m not in a place where I want to hear whatever you might say right now.