“Fine.” I throw the spanner down into the toolbox and stalk out to my car in front of the garage to wait for him. He takes his time saying good-bye, and in actual fact, I think he’s giving them orders because they keep nodding their heads. Finally, he climbs in beside me, wincing slightly at the twisting movement.
• • •
My fingers tap against the steering wheel as I drive because I’m anxious to get back and get it finished. Aaron is talking about taking it up to the quarter mile tonight; the race is a few days away so that will give us time for anything else that needs to be done.
Dad clears his throat—a sure sign that he’s got something to say—and I shoot him a look. The way I’m feeling, I’m not sure I can handle a heart to heart. I’m liable to start crying and that’s just not me.
“You ready for Saturday?” He casts me a sidelong glance, and I shrug. I have been so focused on getting the car ready that I haven’t had time to analyze how I feel about it. It’s been deliberate; I don’t want time to think about it because that will just lead to a major freak-out, and I don’t have time for that. By the time Saturday rolls around, I need to be ready for whatever happens and watch out for Zach Anderson.
“I will be,” is my simple answer.
“I’m sorry,” he adds quietly.
I look sharply at him, unsure why he’s apologizing. “What for?”
“For getting you into this mess.” My mouth drops open, but he carries on. “I know how you feel about racing, and I know why you left town. Now because of my stupidity, you have to pick up the pieces.”
“I’ll be fine.” But my reassurance lacks conviction. I don’t know that, but I just have to believe that I have the skill or speed or just sheer determination to win this race.
“You could get killed.” His voice rises sharply. I swing into our driveway and kill the engine.
“I won’t; it’s not some race along backroads. The car is sound; we’ve put so much work into it. I’ll be okay.” I rest my hand on his and squeeze it gently, hoping it goes some way to reassuring him. He pats his hand on top of mine and nods.
“Will you stay?” And I know he means once this is all over; I feel like that’s all anyone wants to know.
“Let’s get the race out of the way first.”
“What about you and Max?” His eyebrow arches in question.
“What about us?”
“That boy’s in love with you. You do know that, right?” I do, and I love him too, but I can’t think about that until after this race. Closing my eyes tightly, I lower my head to rest on the steering wheel. My dad pats the back of my head and I hear him open the door.
“Don’t wait too long to tell him.” He climbs out the car and walks to the house, leaving me to stare at him. I sit in the car for a long while after he’s closed the door until I finally pull myself together and head back to the garage. We’ve got work to do.
• • •
At long last, Max and Aaron are satisfied that the car is ready, and Aaron slams the hood down, signaling that we’re done. I stick my head out of the office and can’t fight the wide smile that stretches over my face.
“It’s done?” I ask as I walk over to where they both stand proudly next to the Camaro.
“Think that’s it.” Aaron’s wide smile matches mine.
“You ready to try the quarter mile?” Max’s eyes light up with excitement that is contagious, and I nod slowly. He climbs in and starts it up. My stomach clenches when I hear the purr of the engine, and a fresh wave of excitement washes over me. Max drives her out of the garage and climbs out of the driver’s seat, leaving the engine running and the door open.
“Get in,” he orders gently and stands at the door waiting for me.
Aaron pulls down the garage doors and locks up before heading for his truck.
“I’ll meet you there,” he calls as he jumps in and peels out of the lot. Max waits while I walk slowly over to him, apprehensive and slightly nervous, which is so not like me. I love to drive different cars, but there is so much riding on me driving this one. Max waits until I climb in, and then ducks his head inside. The expression on his face is so serious as he buckles me into the harness he insisted we fit. Why we couldn’t have just kept the seat belts is beyond me, but they decided to take the front seats out too and replace them with Sparco seats and six-point harnesses. Unable to resist, I lean forward and brush my lips against his as he tightens and checks that I’m securely fastened. He cracks a smile before he pulls back and slams the door.