Page 70 of Redeeming Melodies

The locker room hit me with that familiar mix of leather and metal, sweat and rubber. My old space was still there, untouched since I stepped away. Someone had been keeping it clean - probably Delaney looking out for me like always. The firesuit felt different now, tighter across my shoulders or maybe that was just the weight of everything I was carrying.

The car purred to life under my hands, welcoming me back like an old friend who didn't ask questions. This was what I needed - just me and pure fucking speed, no custody battles or complicated feelings about small-town sheriffs with kind eyes and gentle hands.

First lap was careful, professional. Testing the limits, remembering the dance. Second lap pushed harder, engine growling as I took the turns tighter. By the third lap, I was flying, everything else falling away until there was nothing but velocity and physics and the perfect harmony of man and machine.

Then I spotted it in my mirror - that flash of red that could only be Anderson's car. Perfect. Just what I fucking needed right then.

He slid onto the track behind me, cocky as ever in that overpriced machine. We'd done this dance before, him always trying to prove something, me just trying to stay focused on myown race. But today? Today I'd got too much fire under my skin to play nice.

Four laps of cat and mouse, him pushing closer on every turn. My hands were steady on the wheel but my heart was racing with more than just adrenaline. Every mile per hour felt like distance from the morning's goodbye, from green eyes filled with tears, from the memory of different green eyes under starlight.

Anderson signaled he was pulling into pit, clearly expecting me to follow. Fine. Let's get this shit over with.

"Well, well." His voice carried across the pit lane, dripping with fake sympathy. "The prodigal son returns. Trouble in paradise?"

I kept my movements calm as I climbed out, helmet tucked under my arm. "Just keeping my skills sharp, Anderson. Never know when you might need a reminder of what real racing looks like."

"Funny." He leaned against his car, that smirk I'd always wanted to punch right off his face. "Your ex-wife was just saying how she prefers a man who stays in the game."

My hands clenched inside my gloves. Of fucking course Vanessa had been talking to him. Probably part of her whole strategy - paint me as unstable while she paraded around with my replacement.

"That right?" I kept my voice level, thinking of Tommy. Couldn't lose my shit here, couldn't give her more ammunition. "Guess she's got a type - men who peak in their twenties and spend the rest of their lives trying to prove they still matter."

His face went red. Good. "At least I'm still racing. Not playing house in some backwater town because I couldn't handle the pressure."

"Pressure?" A laugh escaped me, sharp and bitter. "Try watching your kid cry himself to sleep because his mother'stoo busy chasing sponsors to show up for his school play. Try explaining to an eight-year-old why mommy has a new 'friend' every month."

"Careful, Blue." Anderson stepped closer, voice dropping low. "Wouldn't want anyone thinking you're cracking up. Might affect those custody arrangements I keep hearing about."

Red bled into my vision. My fist was already pulling back when Delaney's voice cut through the tension.

"Everything alright over here, boys?"

Anderson backed off immediately. Delaney might have been pushing sixty, but he still had that presence that commanded respect in the pit lane. Plus he knew where all the bodies were buried, metaphorically speaking.

"Just catching up." Anderson's fake smile was back. "Good to see you haven't completely lost your edge, Blue. Even if you are going soft in your retirement."

He walked away before I could respond, which was probably for the best. My hands were shaking with the need to rearrange his face.

"Deep breaths, kid." Delaney's hand landed heavy on my shoulder. "He's not worth the headlines."

"She's talking to him." The words tasted like ash. "Probably feeding him shit to use in court."

"Vanessa's always played dirty." Delaney guided me toward his office, away from prying eyes. "But you're playing a longer game now. Got more to lose than just pole position."

His office hadn't changed - same photos on the walls, same ancient coffee maker in the corner, same leather chair that had absorbed years of racing strategy and personal crisis. I sank into it, suddenly exhausted.

"Tommy?" He asked, pouring two cups of coffee that would probably strip paint.

"Got him for four days." My voice cracked. "Then she filed some bullshit emergency motion. No contact for a month while the court reviews my 'stability.'"

"Jesus." He handed me a cup, settling behind his desk. "That why you're out here trying to break lap records?"

"Needed to feel in control of something." The coffee burned going down, grounding me. "Everything's so fucked up, Del. Found this perfect little town, bought a house right on the ocean. Tommy was so happy there. For the first time since the divorce, he was just... being a kid."

Delaney studied me over his cup. "This about the town? Or someone in it?"

Fuck. How did I even start to explain this?

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