Page 25 of Racing Hearts

His smile disappears, and I hate that. His expression becomes sad. “Not a lot, but I’m trying.”

“How?” I ask, and unlike most people, he doesn’t look away. He contemplates his words, and when he speaks, he holds my gaze, not a hint of shame in those bright orbs.

“I cut out the toxic people who made me sad. I walked away from my family and their expectations, and even though it hurt, it was for the best. I knew they would never accept me, never love me how I am, and I was so tired of trying to be someone they would love to the point where I wasn’t even myself anymore. I cut them out. I chose my own path, my own future, and I’m fighting every day to follow my dreams. I might not know a lot about being happy, but I want to. I want to find out what it means to have a life I’m proud of, even if it’s never grand or epic. I just want to be able to look at myself in the mirror and tell myself I love who I am and that I am proud of the path I’ve made. I think that’s the true meaning of being happy. It isn’t about the big, exciting stuff, but the small moments that make up your life, the memorable ones.” He trails off. “But what do I know? I’m still young and trying to figure it all out.”

“I think you know more than most. I’m older, and I still haven’t figured out the key to being happy,” I admit softly, moved by his words. Evan Shaw isn’t what I thought he was at all. It’s clear he’s been through a lot. Maybe he isn’t just a spoiled rich boy. In fact, at the moment, I’m almost jealous of his openness with himself, with his ability to call out his own flaws and try to fix them. “I want to own my own garage one day. It isn’t a big dream, nothing crazy, but I want to own it and hire people like me—people who have no opportunities. I want to give them a chance. I also want to build and restore cars. I think that would make me happy.”

“So do it,” he says. “Who gets to say that dream isn’t big enough?”

“I’m trying but . . . Alice always comes first.” I meet his gaze once more. “I have to give her a better life than I had. I can’t fail her like everyone failed me.”

“And what about you? Who looks after you? Who puts you first?” he argues. “This is your life, Alek. I know you love Alice, and she’s so lucky to have a brother like you, but if you don’t put yourself first, nobody ever will, and one day, you’ll look back and wonder what if.”

I stare at Evan, and he stares right back. “When did you get so smart, rich boy?”

“I always have been. You were just too busy hating me to notice.” He winks, making me chuckle, but it ends in a yawn, exhaustion setting into my bones even as I fight it. I want to keep talking to him. He notices me when no one else ever has. He looks past the scars, the ink, and the oil to the man underneath. He isn’t scared of me despite everything I have thrown at him.

“You look exhausted. I’m betting you don’t even sleep in case she needs you.” He snorts. “I’ll let you get home. Thank you for driving me back. Text me when you get there so I know you didn’t wreck or something.” He opens his door and slips out, and I don’t stop him, but I do call out.

“Why, would you miss me?” I tease.

“No.” He grins as he leans back in, his bright smile making my chest tight once more. “Just need a heads-up so I can choose my outfit for your funeral.”

I can’t help but smile, imagining what horrendous outfit this fashion diva would wear at my funeral, and he points at me, grinning widely. “I got you to smile. Night, Anders.” He leaves, and I watch him cross the lot toward his building. When he reaches the door, he looks back at me, his grin firmly in place, and then he lifts his hand to wave before disappearing inside.

I wave back, even though he’s already gone, and it’s only then I admit to myself that I would have stayed here all night talking to him despite my exhaustion.

I guess I do some things for myself, and they all seem to revolve around him.

Shaking my head at my own feelings, I wait until I see his light come on, and then I head home. He’s right. I need to sleep.

Once I’m home, I check on Alice and find her passed out on her desk, her books spread out around her. Turning off her light, I drape a blanket over her and head to my room. I take off my shirt and pull my wallet and phone out of my jeans, ready to crash, but I hesitate, looking at my phone.

I tell myself I won’t, but I open it and click on the message thread.

Alek: I’m home.

I pause before thumbing out another message.

Alek: So put away the lace and veil.

A minute later, a picture comes through. He’s in the shower, his chest bare. I can’t see any more, but it stops me in my tracks before I notice his pout and the soap making his hair stick up, and I laugh.

Rich Boy: Shame, I have the perfect pearl necklace I could clutch while I scream your name dramatically so everyone would stare.

Pushing my jeans down, I text back as I crash into my bed.

Alek: There wouldn’t be many there to stare.

Rich Boy: Damn, all that performance wasted for nothing? Good thing you’re alive then. Now get some sleep, Anders.

Alek: Are you ordering me, rich boy?

Rich Boy: You know it. You can hit me for it next time.

My lips twitch even as I thumb out another message.

Alek: Stop texting me while you’re naked. It’s weird.

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