Page 33 of Forsaken Oath

I drift between clusters of people, an invisible observer amidst the chatter and laughter. Snatches of conversation float around me, a cacophony of boasts, taunts, and revelations.

"—swapped out the carburetor last minute. Gained an extra fifty horses easy?—"

"—that fucker Jason always jumps the start. Watch him, he'll do it again tonight, guaranteed?—"

“Nah, man, Blaze is the one to beat. Asshole’s got more money in his ride than I make in a year?—”

I file away the names and keep moving, pausing near a group of guys leaning against the metal railing that separates the bleachers from the track. Their eyes are glued to the cars lined up at the starting line, engines revving in anticipation.

“Did you see that sweet ride McKinney brought tonight?” one of them says, his voice carrying over the din. “Heard he dropped twenty grand on that baby, custom everything.”

The guy next to him scoffs, shaking his head. “All that cash and he still can’t drive for shit. My money’s on Diaz. That kid’s got instincts you can’t teach.”

I move on, crossing the grassy patch and pausing near a huddle of people. I let their conversations drift to me. A guy with messy hair and a backward cap brags about a new intake manifold he installed, swearing it’s “adding at least twenty horses.” I make a mental note, filing it away in case it’s useful later.

Then I catch the voices of three girls standing nearby, adjusting their outfits and fluffing their hair. They’re primping like they’re about to head out for a night on the town.

“I can’t believe he’s gonna be here tonight,” one of them squeals.

“They always say that, Lacey. I swear they do it just to hype everyone up,” her friend replies, rolling her eyes.

“No, I saw his car pulling onto the track like fifteen minutes ago,” Lacey insists, eyes wide with excitement. “It’s really him!”

“Yeah, well, that doesn’t mean he’s racing,” the third girl mutters, though there’s a hopeful edge in her voice.

“I’m telling you, Kim, he’s racing tonight.”

“It’s beentwo years, Stacey,” Kim says, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “God, just thinking about him on the track gets me hot.”

Lacey’s grin turns sly. “Girl,I know. I’ve been trying to bag him for like three years, but tonight is my night. I’m feeling lucky.”

The second girl, Stacey, rolls her eyes again. “You’re always feeling lucky.”

“Yeah, well, call me a damn four-leafed clover tonight, because I’m gonnagetlucky. And with BeaufuckingCarter,” Lacey says. There’s a pause, and then all three girls laugh.

But I’m not amused. In fact, inside I’m reeling, sputtering like I got doused with a bucket of cold water. I feel a prickle along my scalp, an instinct I’ve learned not to ignore.

For as recognizable as the Carter name is at the Alley in Avalon Falls, I’ve neverseenthem. It could be a coincidence. Carter is a common enough last name, and I think Beau is too.

How manyBeaushave you ever met in your life, a voice inside my head taunts me. It sounds suspiciously like Margot when she calls me on my shit.

I leave the girls and drift closer to the track, my curiosity pulling me in. I don’t know how I’ll know which one is Beau Carter, but if it’s my Beau, I’ll recognize him in an instant.

His soft smile and intense eyes are seared so permanently into my mind’s eye, I could pick him out of a crowd of a thousand people.

The speakers crackle before the music cuts out and a deep voice booms around the speedway.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final pre-qualifier at Clearwater Speedway! Five heats tonight, so grab a drink and settle in.”

Cheers erupt around me, but I barely hear them. My eyes are on the people clustering around cars, my heartbeat picking up as the crowd’s energy swells.

“And you’re in for a special treat tonight, folks. Fresh out of Avalon Falls’ retirement, he couldn’t stay away. Please give it up for Beau Carter,” the announcer half-sings the name.

I watch in awe as half the people are cheering, some women jumping up and down. Some people boo, which makes me think there’s a lot more going on in this community than I realized. And the other drivers have much more subdued reactions, a few of them settling behind their wheels already.

“Get loud for our drivers tonight, folks. You’ve got five minutes before the fun really begins,” the announcer booms.

I feel a strange mix of anticipation and dread settling in my stomach as I look around. The cheering from the crowd is deafening, but I barely notice it.

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