Page 43 of Cross the Line
Chava loops an arm around her neck and pulls her into his side. He lifts his free hand to ruffle her hair like he used to when we were kids, but before he makes contact, he pulls back. He’s definitely made the right choice – I don’t think she’d appreciate it if he frizzed her curls.
An unexpected jolt of jealousy lances through my chest at the sight of them pressed against each other. The vague chokehold he has her in is nothing but older-brother shenanigans, and her hand is high on his chest only to keep him from squeezing her tighter. But regardless, it has my adrenaline spiking at a time when I should be keeping calm.
‘Duh, it includes you,’ Chava says, grinning down at her, oblivious to my rising temperature. ‘You’re one of us now.’
Every instinct inside me is screaming to rip him away from her. To tell him to keep his fucking hands to himself. But before they can take over, Mark tosses me a warning look, his blue eyes piercing. So instead, I draw in a deep breath to steady myself and lower my heart rate. Shit. I can’t risk the stress before getting into the car. Driving angry won’t get me anywhere except in the barriers.
I do my best to ignore Chava and Willow’s conversation as I motion for Mark to grab the torture device we use for neck training, but her giggles as Chava regales her with the perks of flying private float through the air and hit me one after another, like physical blows.
Mark nearly snaps my neck when he pulls the bands tight because I’m not properly braced. Thankfully, I manage to slip out of the head straps before he can truly do any damage. He fusses over me, hands brushing my head and shoulders to check for injury, but I duck away and turn to the couch.
‘You guys mind heading down to the garage?’ I ask, hoping they can’t hear the tension in my voice. ‘I need Mark to work on my lower back, and I don’t need you two seeing me in just my fireproofs. A boy needs his privacy.’
With nods and noises of affirmation, they collect their things and move toward the door, though not before Chava tosses me a questioning look.
When they’re gone, Mark gives me a disapproving frown. ‘You’re distracted.’
I pick up the training device again and put it back on. ‘I’m good. I promise. There was just too much going on.’ I motion to the cord. ‘You gonna torture me or not? I know you love to watch me suffer, baby.’
He ignores my teasing, and the rejection burns. ‘You’re letting her get to you.’
‘Shut the fuck up.’ It snaps off my tongue before I can stop it, but I’m sick of his little reprimands. I take a deep breath and close my eyes to centre myself before reopening them. Mark is on my side. He’s only looking out for me. ‘I’m sorry, man. I shouldn’t have said that.’
With a nod, he accepts my apology. ‘It’s fine. I get it.’ He pauses, meeting my eyes. ‘But you gotta let her go.’
I don’t know which way to take his words. Let her go as in fire her? Or abandon the feelings I’ve developed? Either way, I don’t know if I can do it.
‘Let’s get back to this.’ I offer the cord to him again. ‘I’ve got a teammate who needs his ass kicked.’
——
I’m back to feeling like myself once I’m down in my side of the garage.
The roar of engines and scent of motor oil have a way of bringing my blood pressure back to normal levels. The thread of adrenaline coursing through me now is thanks to the impending race and nothing else. I bounce on the balls of my feet as I have a last-minute strategy chat with Branny and Sturgill, our team principal. Sturgill isn’t a bad guy, but he’s Buck’s lackey. And while the priority should be scoring points for the team, no matter which driver gets them, Sturgill has never made it a secret thathispriority is keeping Buck happy.
That said, he’s gone to bat for me before, and I’ve got to respect him for it. It’s just a shame he can’t do it more often.
Once we’ve wrapped up, I head over to where Chava’s helping Willow adjust her headset.
Her expression is so bright that I almost have to look away. She’s like pure sunshine, illuminating anything and everything around her, drawing me in like a moth to a flame.
‘I’ve never looked better,’ she proclaims to Chava, framing her face with her hands and showing off the bright red headset. She’s painted her nails to match, her ring fingers accented with glitter.
She’s the only person in here who can pull off Argonaut’s uniform. Her tight navy skirt hugs her hips, and she’s got her striped polo casually tucked in at the front. She’s tied her curls back with a star-printed ribbon, somehow sporty and gut-wrenchingly sexy at the same time.
One glance at her and I already know I’m in big fucking trouble. But I’m not interested in keeping myself out of it.
How can I let her go, like Mark insists, when she looks like an angel and has such a brilliant mind?
She spots me as I approach, her dimples deepening. ‘Good luck today.’
‘Don’t need it,’ I tease, mirroring her grin. ‘I’ve got you.’
That drags a groan out of her, and she drops her head back. ‘I told you not to put that on me!’
‘Gonna get on the podium today, just because you’re here.’
‘You’re the worst.’ She sighs, then motions for me to move out of her way. ‘I’m going to find Konrad. He got some shots yesterday I want for your feed.’
