Page 4 of All That Glitters
“Ash.”
“Shit,” I said under my breath before meeting the gaze of my cousin. “Brax.”
“You coming from his office?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m headed there. He just called.”
That didn’t take long. “Have fun.” I walked around him.
“He ask you about driving?”
“Yeah.”
“And?”
I stopped my descent. “And you’ll be watching from the pit box unless someone else can’t race. You’ve been demoted to back-up driver. You won’t be taking my place this season.”
“I’m not your enemy. You know that, right?”
He stood three steps higher. Under normal circumstances I wouldn’t give anyone that kind of advantage over me. Normally, I’d have climbed back up to meet him eye to eye.
Nothing about me was normal anymore.
“I know.”
Brax was there to do a job, same as me. He was a damn good driver, had speed to match my own. He’d gone to college instead of straight into full-time professional racing, paid his dues as my shadow and running as a fill-in whenever anyone needed him. He needed a full-time seat to come open and then he’d be challenging my dominance on the track.
Once upon a time I’d have welcomed it, looked forward to it.
But not now. Not this season. Not next season, either.
Every other driver on the circuit was an enemy.
Even the one who was the back-up, my back-up.
“I’m ready and you’ll be waiting again. Sorry, man.”
I didn’t give him a chance to reply. I made my way down the rest of the stairs with a grimace of pain on my face and pushed my way out the doors. An enclosed walkway led from the corporate offices of Glitterati Racing to the garage. Glass on each side kept me dry, but I think I’d have welcomed the pounding rain on my skin. Maybe then I wouldn’t feel so caged in, so claustrophobic.
I wanted a way out of myself.
I wanted a way out of the memories.
I wanted a way back to who I was before.
My therapists, my doctors… They’d all suggested that maybe I shouldn’t race again, that maybe I should find something else to do in the field I’d grown up loving or find something else altogether.
I dismissed every word. I was born to race cars and no way was a near death experience going to take that from me.
They’d have to pry my dead hands from a wheel.
The thought caused me to stumble and I pressed my hand against the glass to keep from tipping over completely. I leaned my forehead against the cool wall and gathered myself, taking deep breaths. This was not the place for a panic attack.
The garage entrance was only a few feet away and I pushed forward, past the fear. I needed to get my shit together. My father hadn’t said those words, but I could read between the lines. He knew everything that happened on this secluded piece of property, including every time I’d entered the garage since being cleared.
It took every bit of effort, mentally, at least, to pull the door open once I wrapped my hand around the handle. My whole body shook as I pushed myself inside and more sweat beaded along my forehead. My heart thundered in my chest and for a moment, my vision clouded. I could’ve so easily passed out.
