Quarter Mile Hearts(11)

The two of us roar down Main Street, neck and neck, but as we approach the police station, Max eases up a fraction. I take advantage; giving it more gas, I pull ahead and hang a right into the parking lot of The Three Monkeys ahead of him.

Seconds later, his tires throw up a cloud of dust as he skids to a halt next to my bike. He doesn’t even turn his engine off before he’s out the car, storming over to where I’m still sitting astride my bike.

“What the fuck was that?” He shoves me hard in the shoulder, and I turn to face him, flipping up my visor. All that is visible are my eyes, but it’s enough for him to recognize me.

“Leigh?” He takes a step back as I calmly pull off my helmet and toss out my hair. I’d like to think I had mastered it so my hair cascaded down my back, like something out of a film, but sadly, the reality is different. It’s hot in that helmet and sometimes hair sticks to my sweaty forehead.

“Hey, Max. Congratulations on your win,” I drawl and flash him a phony smile, which just enrages him more. Although he won the quarter-mile race, he’s just had his ass handed to him by a girl. And what’s worse is it was me.

“What the fuck are you playing at driving through town like that and past the police station?” His face flushes with anger.

I look over his shoulder, pretending to consider his question. “Well, that is the only way in and out of town, and I assumed this is where you were all headed. Unless you’ve decided to shake things up and go celebrate your win somewhere else.” I tilt my head and wait.

Then he growls at me. Like a dog or something. Turning to floozy one, he grabs her hand and reaches into his car to turn off the engine. The force at which he slams the door is purely for my benefit and so is the glare he shoots me as he stalks past and disappears into the bar.

With a smile on my face, I slowly peel off my gloves, giving my thundering heart time to slow down as I wait for Aaron and Beth to climb out of their cars.

“Fuck, Storm. That was impressive.” Aaron gives a low whistle, and my head jerks around to glare at him.

“Don’t call me that,” I say through gritted teeth, but it just makes him smile wider. Aaron knows full well how much I hate that nickname. It used to be my dad who called me that, but when Aaron started helping out at Hank’s Autos in high school, he adopted it, too.

Beth holds my helmet as I climb off the bike. “Where did that come from?” She could mean the bike, but I know she’s referring to my racing Max. I shrug, not wanting to admit that I’d wanted to do that since I arrived at Pines Road and saw all the cars lined up ready to race.

“She can’t help it. It’s in her blood.” I swat Aaron, partly because he’s right. “She might say she’s not a racer, but she is. Can’t change that, cuz.” Aaron has been this way since my first and only race.

“Does he always talk so much shit?” I turn to Beth, and she gives a nod of resignation.

“’Fraid so.”

“Hey,” Aaron protests and grabs Beth from behind, his arms wrapping around her middle as he pulls her flush with his body. When I look over to tell them to knock it off, all I see is the top of his head, his face buried in Beth’s neck. Or maybe her cleavage. I really don’t want to know which.

“Do you guys ever stop?”

“No,” they both shout, and I can’t fight my laugh. God, I’ve missed these guys.

“Some things never change.” I shake my head in despair.

“Not much has.” Beth finally comes up for air.

But some things have. I have. I’m not that shy awkward girl anymore. I’m a strong confident woman who knows what she wants. Who has hopes and dreams that are yet to be realized. As much as I love Aaron, Beth and my dad, my life isn’t here anymore. I’m only back to help my dad out. I silence the irritating voice that is asking me why then do I feel so settled and calm. A feeling of peace washed over me the minute that I stepped through my dad’s front door. I feel more settled than I’ve felt in a long time and I finally understand what it feels like to come home.

A loud cheer goes up when Aaron and Beth walk into the bar and Aaron holds his hands up, trying to act all modest.

“Son,” a voice shouts from the bar. “Beer.” Aaron’s dad slides the beer across to him and his eyes land on me, growing wider with every passing second.

“Leigh?” he chokes out, and I fight against the prick of tears at the way his face lights up.

“Uncle Pat.” I cross to the bar and take his outstretched hands, squeezing them in my own.

“Enough of this.” He moves to the entrance to the bar and walks around the other side. “Lynda,” he shouts, and a woman in her early forties looks up. Her hands cover her mouth, and I can see the shimmer of tears that start to form in her eyes already. She throws her order pad down on the table and rushes over, customers forgotten.