Page 5 of Speed

“Give us a minute, Doc,” Logan ordered.

Dr. Reilly nodded and left the room, the door closing behind him.

I stared at the blank wall, every muscle in my body tense. “This isn’t happening, Logan. I can’t—I won’t stop. Racing is my life.”

“No,” Logan said quietly. “Your life is more than racing, Brody. And it’s not over. But if you don’t stop… it could be. I won’t lose another brother.”

I yanked my arm from his. “That’s fucking low, even for you.”

“Jesus, Brody…”

I couldn’t look at him, but his words sank in, carving through the denial like a scalpel. I hated him for saying it. And I loved him for being the only one who could.

For the first time since turning fourteen, I was scared.

Terrified.

THREE

Brody

Washington blurredpast the tinted window, and I leaned back against the leather seat, trying to tune out the soft hum of conversation.

I was here for my niece.

My sister-in-law, Sadie, sat beside Logan, her voice calm and steady as she reviewed the event's details again, the picture of composure. As the daughter of a diplomat, she’d grown up in a world of fundraising galas and high-profile gatherings, and after Avery’s diagnosis with Type 1 diabetes at the age of two, she threw herself into advocacy and fundraising as a way to cope, turning her grief and fear into something tangible. Sadie had a way of commanding attention without ever raising her voice—a quiet confidence that drew people in and made them listen. Nights like this? They were her domain, and she handled them as if she were born to it.

People were drawn to Sadie because of her warmth and charm. And Logan? He was the rock—the reliable one who always had the answers.

Me? I was just the guy in the window seat, pretending not to notice the occasional glances Logan shot my way.

The truth was, I didn’t want to be here. This wasn’t my world anymore. I was the face people recognized that sold tickets—the name that would get headlines for a cause I cared about.

It was about the only thing I cared about.

Logan and Sadie had the real reason for the galas, speeches, and fundraisers. They were trying to create a world where kids like Avery didn’t have to deal with needles, blood sugar monitors, and the fear that one bad day could lead to disaster.

I respected the hell out of them for it. But that didn’t make me any less bitter about being dragged along. I’d done my time in the spotlight for far too long, part of the insanity not due to being a driver but having dated world-famous singer Jemima Wren.

We’d only lasted a year—both focused on our careers—but we’d parted on good terms and were still friends.

Should I tell her what was happening?

Why would she want to know? She’s your ex.

I don’t want her pity!

“You’ll need to make more of an effort tonight, Brody,” Logan said, his voice cutting through my thoughts. “You’re getting a reputation for being obnoxious.”

“Not my idea of fun,” I deadpanned because that accusation hurt, even if I was an obnoxious bastard.

Logan’s tone sharpened. “We’re not doing this for fun, Brody.! We’re here for Avery.”

I turned to him, my jaw tight. “You think I don’t know that? Why the hell do you think I even got in this damn car?”

“You’re acting like you’re being dragged to your execution,” he shot back, his gray eyes narrowing. “This is about something bigger than you, for once.”

My fists clenched on my lap, the leather creaking under my grip. “Bigger than me? You don’t think I know what that’s like? My whole goddamn life has been about something bigger—fuck you!”

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