Page 22 of Drive To Survive

“I don’t want to watch Rhett from some viewing platform where, if something happens, I can’t get to him.” I tried to make my voice sound reasonable rather than irate.

“I already told you, Everly, the kids do better when the parents aren’t hanging around. I’ve discussed the same thing with all the other mums and dads, and they’re fine.”

“Meaning what, exactly? That I’m some irrational, overprotective mother who smothers her son?”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

I gasped, my mouth parting in shock. “That’s not true,” I exclaimed.

“Then prove it,” Nico said, folding his arms.

Oh, clever.

I planted my hands on my hips, unwilling to accept defeat but recognizing I’d already lost the argument. “If my son comes back with a single scratch on him, you will have a major problem on your hands. Understand?”

His lips didn’t even twitch. “Yep. Loud and clear.” He skirted around his desk and touched my arm. “That wasn’t an attack, Everly. You’re a great mum. Just back off a little, yeah? Relax. Stop trying so hard.”

I bit the inside of my cheek and nodded. “About the other day, I’m sorry if you thought I’d overstepped the mark.”

His flat stare rippled through me. I waited for him to say something, but when he didn’t, I shook my head and left.

NICO

The evening sun glinted off the metal overhang that shaded the viewing platform. From my spot in the pit lane, I could just about make out Everly standing slightly apart from the other three sets of parents, her eyes trained on Rhett’s kart out on the track. The kid had natural talent, the kind you couldn’t teach. Instinctual. A feel for the car and its capabilities. I could tell all this, even on his first outing. Experience gave me a sixth sense about these things. If we could divert his anger into determination, his frustration into focus, he’d make a cracking little racer.

How far he went would be up to him or, more likely, his mother. Every day, hugely talented racers fell by the wayside for one reason or another. Causes ranged from a lack of motivation to limited funds, or sometimes they simply grew out of their love of cars. On rare occasions, none of these things happened, but they gave up anyway, usually to allay the fears of an overanxious parent.

I understood Everly’s worries, but at the same time, I wanted to pry her fingers off the tight hold she had on Rhett and see how he reacted to the freedom. I’d had my doubts whether she’d even bring him here today, not least because of how I’d spoken to her after our impromptu dinner at Archie’s. Yet when she’d broached the subject with me, the words I wanted to say—namely, “I apologize”—wouldn’t come. I didn’t want to give her false hope that something might happen between us, but hell, as she’d passed by me and her arm had skimmed mine, I’d had to dig my fingernails into my palms to stop myself from pushing her up against the door and banging her as if my life depended on it.

I wanted her so fucking much.

And I couldn’t have her.

Actually, that wasn’t true. I could have her. Easily. She’d made no secret of her attraction to me, and without sounding arrogant, I knew that if I clicked my fingers, she’d let me take her to bed. But I didn’t want that. A woman like Everly deserved more than a quick scuffle between the sheets, and I didn’t have it within me to offer more than that to her. I couldn’t avoid seeing her completely, but I was an adult. I could deny my urges, regardless of how strong they were.

It was better this way.

For both of us.

Patrick called a halt to the first session, and the karts filed into the pit lane. I stepped forward and unfastened Rhett’s seat restraints. I didn’t usually hang around the track with the little ones, but I couldn’t seem to stay away from this kid, which was a problem considering I was trying like fuck to stay away from his mother.

They came as a package deal.

“You did great, little man,” I said, ruffling his hair, damp and sticking out at all angles from being crammed inside his helmet.

“That was amazing! When can I do it again?” he asked, his eyes bright and full of life.

Looking at him got me right in the gut, so much so that I pressed a hand to my middle. This was why racing meant so fucking much. One half-hour session out on track and this kid already looked like a different child from the one I’d met only a few days earlier. Not for the first time, I was so damned proud of my partners and myself for starting this school and giving these kids a chance to learn all sorts of skills, regardless of whether they ended up with a lifelong love affair of racing or not. The things we taught them here were transferable skills—passion, fearlessness, confidence, determination to succeed—that they’d find useful in whatever career path they chose.

“In a few minutes,” I said, pointing at Patrick standing off to one side, clipboard in hand, ready to give the kids a little coaching. “You need to go see Patrick first.”

Rhett pouted, and his bottom lip wobbled. I gave him a look, one that spoke volumes. Lose your temper and you won’t see another minute racing today. He caught on fast and trundled off, head down.

Once Rhett and the others headed out for their second, and final, session, I found myself hobbling up to the viewing platform, despite the promise I’d made to myself to avoid Everly. There was something about her that resulted in an inevitable pull, a magnetic force I couldn’t resist.

She caught sight of me out of the corner of her eye, but apart from the tiniest movement of her head, her eyes stayed locked on the track. Only as I got closer did I see the cords in her neck and her clenched fists, and how she kept biting her bottom lip.

“He’s doing great,” I said, standing next to her but careful to leave enough space so that our arms didn’t touch.

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