Page 19 of Truck You

I used to live for racing. I still do, but it’s not the same. Nothing is the same anymore. Not since my accident.

The smell of rubber burning on the track used to excite me. It got my blood pumping and my energy level elevated in ways nothing else could. The sounds of engines revving and crowds cheering used to feed my soul.

Now, it gives me anxiety.

Every time I hear tires squeal on the pavement, I tense. I wait with bated breath for the sound of crunching metal to follow. Then the lightness in my stomach from the car rolling in the air, making my body feel weightless.

All the sounds and smells I used to love, now feed my nightmares.

It was one accident.One. I’ve been racing since I was old enough to reach the pedals, and I’ve had one accident in all that time.

I’ve seen countless drivers get in accidents over the years, and every one of them always walked away no matter how bad it looked.

Hell, even I walked away. Well, the rescue crew carried me away because I broke my leg. But I survived. This is racing. Accidents are inevitable. They’re not anif, but awhen. They’re a certainty.

So why can’t I shake this?

It’s been two years, and I still hear the sounds of the crash as if it happened yesterday. I feel the seat belt cutting into my chest as I dangle upside down in my car. I smell the smoke billowing around me as the fuel leaking from my engine burns.

But it’s the panicked cries and terror-filled faces from my brothers that haunt me the most.

Liam was the first to reach me. The rescue crew had to tackle him to the ground to keep him from dragging me out of the car and causing more damage. Thankfully, Chase and Ash calmed Liam down enough so the EMTs could do their jobs and save my fucking life.

I thought their cries were bad. That was nothing compared to the frantic looks on their faces. You would have thought I was already dead with how grief-stricken they looked.

As soon as the doctor cleared me of any brain or spinal damage, my brothers did what anyone would do in this situation. They laughed and joked and downplayed the what ifs and moved the fuck on as if nothing had happened.

But not me. I can’t move on. I can’t get it out of my head. And this anxiety is killing my performance.

I close my eyes as the next turn gets closer, silently telling myself to breathe in and breathe out. I used to love the corners, but not anymore. The accident happened on a corner.

“Mac!” Chase’s voice calls through my headpiece. “Why are you slowing down? The car okay?”

I shake my head and refocus my eyes on the track and the cars close to me. I didn’t even realize I’d let my foot up off the gas.Get it together, asshole.

“The car’s just fine.” I answer.

“Then get your ass moving. The new guy is gaining on you.”

“Which new guy? Miller?” There are a lot of newish drivers in this race, but Bo Miller is performing better than the rest of them. I’m by far the most experienced, probably too experienced for this level of race. But it’s what I need until I get my head on straight.

“No. Thenew, new guy. Becker,” Chase says, almost as if he doesn’t believe it.

“What? Isn’t this his first race?”

“As far as I can tell. But I didn’t research the guy. For all we know, he’s been racing for years in some other part of the country.”

“Fucking great,” I mumble.

One reason I’ve continued entering these smaller races is because I felt safer. Not completely safe, but experienced enough that I can avoid inexperienced drivers that can cause accidents. I’m not prepared for actual competition.

I shake my head and focus on the road in front of me. I’m still in the lead. As long as I keep my head in the race, I’ve got this.

I take the next corner with ease and accelerate hard when I hit the straight stretch. I just have to put some distance between me and them.

“Mac, you’re looking great.” Chase’s voice is calm, like always, but I sense a hint of hesitation. “But that’s not enough to lose this guy. He’s right on your tail.”

“I’ll lose him on the next turn. There’s no way he can pass me on the outside.”

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