Page 21 of Racing Hearts

He nods, his hands shaking as he tries to open my door.

“Hey, kid.” He turns to look at me, still in shock. “It’s not worth winning if your life is on the line. Remember that. There’s always another race; there isn’t another life. Drive smarter, not harder.”

He nods slowly and climbs out of my car and into the waiting crowd, where his friends gather around him, helping him away and, hopefully, to the hospital. His injuries could have been a lot worse, but I bet he has some broken bones.

He’s lucky to be alive and he knows it.

You don’t walk away from an accident like that as the same kind of person who went into it.

Leaving my car running, since it won’t be long until the cops are here, I head over to Sanjay who is watching, slack-jawed and sad. It isn’t the first accident in the races, and it won’t be the last. There is a reason this is illegal, but there’s also a reason we all keep coming back.

“Good save, man,” he calls as he slaps my back. “That kid owes you his life.”

I shrug it off, wilting a little under the praise. I just did what anyone else would do.

“Your winnings.” He slaps them into my hand. I look at the cash I desperately need and hand it back over.

“Give it to the kid who’s on his way to the hospital. He would have won if he didn’t crash,” I mutter.

“Uh-uh, he crashed because he was being an idiot,” Sanjay snaps. “It was reckless.”

“But it’s what’s fair.” I slap his arm. “I have to go sleep. See you later.”

Without a backwards glance, I climb into my car and drive away before the cops show up and start asking questions. I can’t afford another arrest.

I can’t go home with these injuries. Alice will worry, and I don’t want that for her, so on the way back, I stop at a pharmacy that’s still open. Luckily, I can sling my jacket on to hide the worst of the bloodstains so I won’t get strange looks. I clean up my hands with a bottle of water and wrap them in some tape I have for sparring and head inside. I’ve had worse, and I can clean the wounds myself. I already checked. They don’t need stitches, but they are going to hurt like a son if a bitch for a while, especially now that the adrenaline has left me. Once I’m inside the brightly lit shop, I grab some sugar and chocolate to help combat that and head to the aisle I want.

I fill the basket with anything I might need. When you hurt yourself often enough, you learn the essentials of taking care of injuries. We never had the money to be seen when we were kids, and our parents didn’t really care, so it was always up to me.

Hauling my basket onto the counter, I wait for it all to be scanned, and then I hand over the cash. I’m going to need extra shifts to cover everything. Hell, my money is on a goddamn spreadsheet. I don’t spend anything without looking first, but these are essentials. I remind myself that unexpected issues arise. I won’t go broke from it, but I hate that I’m eating into Alice’s school funds. She needs a new laptop, so I have to save for that.

I’m just grabbing the bag when a familiar voice stops me.

The hair on the back of my neck rises.

“Anders?”

ELEVEN

Alek Anders turns to face me, his expression like thunder. His nostrils flare as he looks over me where I stand behind him in line, as if I stalked him here or it’s my fault I needed meds. Without a word, he thanks the cashier and stomps out of the store.

Fuck him, but then I realize I still need to thank him, and my mom didn’t raise a bitch. Well, she didn’t really raise me, but you get my drift.

Quickly slapping my money on the counter for my meds, I hurry after Alek as he marches through the deserted lot to his car at the back. I didn’t even see it at first since it’s parked away from everything.

He’s already opening the door, sitting in his seat and rooting through his bag. Rolling my eyes, I stop next to him, but he studiously ignores me like that might make me disappear.

Nice try, asshole. People have tried that my whole life. It didn’t work then, and it won’t work now.

“You can go back to ignoring me in a minute,” I mutter, leaning into his open doorway, my arm on the top of his car. “I just wanted to thank you for looking after me.”

“Alice made me,” he grits out. At least he’s talking to me now.

“Liar,” I retort, and his head snaps up, his dark eyes narrowing on me. For a moment, I debate if this is really the hill I want to die on, but I have a feeling Alek Anders is worth the effort. I raise an eyebrow as his eyes narrow further.

I watch his muscles bunch before he strikes out at me.

Catching his fist, I tell him, “Nice try. I let you get one in, but no more.” I tighten my hand around his, and he hisses, yanking it back, or trying to, and I frown, turning his hand despite his protests and prying his fist open.

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