Page 42 of False Start

“Huh what?” I peeked over her shoulder. She rotated the book so she could make out the notes I’d jotted on the margins of the page.

“You have really nice handwriting.” She slipped her fingers over the margins. “Like, beautiful nice.”

“Is there something about me that makes you think I have bad handwriting?” I asked, weirdly offended. This woman thought I was all that was everything wrong with humanity, but somehow bad penmanship was a bridge too far.

Her eyes lit up playfully in a way I’d only ever caught glimpses of with Derek. “Are you mad I assumed you were a messy writer, Texas?”

“Well,Kitten,” I emphasized the nickname, satisfied when her cheeks went pink. “I thought you were done teasing me?”

“I meant I wouldn’t tease you about rally things, not that you write like a fifteen-year-old girl. Do you dot your I’s with hearts, too?”

“Ouch.”

“These are good notes, though. Legitimately.” She ran her fingertip over a line, picking up her phone with the other hand and typing. “We’re close to the next stop. I think it’s just down the road. Take a left up here.”

One giant rocking chair, the world’s largest peanut, a Trolls museum, an alien-themed pizza joint, and a sulfur hot spring later, we reached the day one checkpoint.

Last, of course, but we’d only missed two stops.

Other than rally cars, there weren’t many patrons at the rundown motel that served as the checkpoint. I stretched my back after exiting the Cougar while Kit pulled her backpack from the trunk.

“It’s dry at least.” She shouldered the bag, grabbing mine and handing it over. “Maybe we should have stopped at a parts shop on the way. Do you think it’s going to rain tonight?”

I’d driven the better part of the afternoon and honestly had no clue. “Probably not. We’ll find a shop to buy a patch first thing in the morning.”

Having a plan seemed to ease Kit’s anxiety, so the white lie didn’t hurt anything. Worst case, we’d bail out the backseat pool and drive with the windows down.

I took my bag and followed Kit into the motel. Laughter and conversation drew us away from the unattended front desk and into the bar and restaurant connected to the motel.

“Team All Gas, No Clutch!” Mike called over the noise, holding up a drink. “You made it!”

“Barely,” I admitted. Kit veered off toward a table where Ashley and Tom sat while I flagged down a bartender. “We flooded the car and got a little lost. Missed some stops.”

Mike shrugged. “No worries. It’s your first rally and if you take some pictures of the flood, you might get extra points. We placed top three at a rally two years ago because we broke down on the side of the road and had the tow truck take us to the nexttwo stops before getting the car fixed. Cost us an arm and a leg, but worth it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Maybe I should trash the transmission after all.

“Alright, we’re checked in,” Kit said, exhaustion coloring her face.

“What place are we in?” I took a sip of my beer and pushed a rum and coke toward Kit.

She picked up the glass, taking a sip with a satisfied hum. “Last. What the hell do you think? We’re terrible.”

“We’ll make a comeback,” I asserted, ignoring Kit’s shaking head. “We know the game now.”

“The point of the rally wasn’t to win.” She sighed, exasperated. “It’s just to finish.”

“But winning is fun too,” Mike interjected. “You came all this way.”

“We came all this way,” I repeated to Kit. “And I hate losing.”

“That’s a fact.” Mike barked out a laugh. “I remember that game in Phoenix last season. Trent, you’ve got to tell Hayden about that one.”

Mike’s girlfriend smiled shyly, clearly curious. My stomach pitted. Phoenix was a shit show of a game, and the fans only saw a small piece of the fallout. I didn’t want to tell that story. Certainly not in front of Kit, who disliked me for my own merits. She didn’t need another example of what a fuck up I was to cement her beliefs.

To my surprise, Kit reached across us, grabbing her drink from the bar, her eyes briefly finding mine.

“I’ve heard football stories all day,” she sighed dramatically, before an inviting smile grew on her lips. A lie. I hadn’t mentioned football, and if I had, Kit would have blown me off immediately, but I caught what she was doing. “I get it. Trent isfamous, talented and very handsome. But I’m going to bed if we have to talk about him all night.”

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