Page 60 of Wrecking Boundaries

I’d forgotten about it since picking things back up with Jake.

I pick up my phone and open the dating app. It’s time to do something either very brilliant or idiotic.

22-Jake

BP Racing Headquarters, North Carolina

“Much better outdoors, isn’t it?” Bert asks me.

I agree, despite having no strong opinion either way. “Is there a reason we aren’t talking in your office?”

We sit opposite each other on a park bench near the pit crew’s practice area. They’re on gym duty, which gives us the privacy we need.

“Thin walls,” Bert says. He uses the flat of his hand as a fan. “I should have located our headquarters further north.”

“Maybe your next one,” I say with a soft smile. “News articles are coming out.”

“You saw that, did you? It’ll be the buzz before the day ends.” Bert bows his head and sighs. “I can’t offer you a contract extension.”

There’s genuine hurt in his voice, and I itch to take Bert’s hand to comfort him, except we’ve never had that sort of relationship, and the gesture would probably be unwelcome.

“Bert, I wouldn’t be where I am today if it weren’t for you,” I say, hoping he hears the sincerity in my words and voice. “You wanted to tell me first.”

He nods. “Our building’s thin walls mean conversation carries, and there are spies everywhere, or there will be soon.”

After nearly fourteen years of working with him, I’m strangely calm. “Thank you for telling me yourself. What will you do?”

“Retire, like we all eventually do. Go fishing. Maybe find out what it’s like to watch a race at home.” Bert’s smile is meant to reassure, but there’s only defeat on the slope of his shoulders. His skin is oddly pale.

He divorced several years ago and never had children. Retirement means a long and lonely road for him.

“I hear fishing is healthier than yoga,” I say because it sounds true or could be true. “You’ve earned it, Bert.”

He doesn’t respond, which is not what I expected him to do. Not everyone wants to dwell on their misery, and I respect that. “This here is for you.” Bert swipes a business card from his front pocket. The corner is bent on two sides, covering up the logo. “Top Row Racingwill announce a retirement next week, freeing up a car.”

He hands the business card over, and I seeTop Row Racing’spresident’s name in bold letters. “You found me a new seat,” I say. Gratitude fills me, mixing with a numb sensation, so I’m unsure what to feel. “They’re one of the best teams out there. Their tech and hired staff are both fantastic. Drivers beg to get on there.”

“You can’t act until the announcement is formal, so don’t go calling him yet,” Bert warns. “But they’re interested, and the ride will be yours if you want it.”

The offer means Bert went pleading on my behalf. It’s a great team, and my crew would be well cared for. Their headquarters is also a three-hour drive fromRivers Motorsports.I don’t want Sarah to pick, and I don’t want to be so far away. Signing with them also means giving up my dream for several more years.

A dream with no way to come true, so it may not matter. I need a seat to keep my career going, no matter where the ride comes from.

“I thought you brought me out here because of theargument with Boone Rivers,” I say, suddenly wanting to change the subject.

“Racing gets your blood up and doesn’t turn off when you step outside the car. We’ve all been there,” Bert says. “I raced his father back in the day. Scary son of a bitch. The boy is no different from the father.”

“He doesn’t frighten me,” I say. Boone Rivers annoys me, which is entirely different.

“No reason why he should,” Bert says.

“I could intimidate him.”

“No, Jake, you could not.” Bert rises, so he’s standing over me. “You’re both damned good, some of the best talent I’ve ever seen. The truth is, I think you might even be better, but you won’t ever scare him; he doesn’t frighten. You could earn his respect, now that you could do. You’re an ambitious man, Jake. We both know you’re always thinking of what’s next. You might think about how to end the disagreement between you two.”

We say our goodbyes, and he leaves me sitting on the park bench.

I’ve been punched in the gut.

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