Page 20 of Truck You

I make the next corner with ease, but I’m sweating way more than normal. It’s not because it’s hot in here—which it is—it’s because my nerves are getting to me. The tension settling in my body has my hands clenching around the steering wheel and every muscle in my body aches.

My breathing increases and I can hear my heartbeat ringing in my ears. I blink a few times and try like hell to slow my air intake, but I’m fading fast. My vision is blurring and my head hurts.

I just want to pull over and get the fuck out of this car.

“One more turn, Mac, and you’ve got this.” Chase’s voice soothes. “Stay with me, bro.”

I blink again, trying to focus on the road. If I can just forget there’s another driver on the track, I can do this. It’s just me and the open road.

“Mac!” Chase says, a little louder this time. “Focus on my voice. Keep your foot on the pedal and steer that car to the finish line.”

“Where’s Becker?” I ask.

“Don’t worry about Becker. You just drive like I know you can. It’s just you out there.”

I cringe at his words. I thought I’d done a good job of hiding my anxiety, but he knows I’m struggling.

Taking a deep breath, I ready myself for the last turn. The finish line is right around the corner.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Then I catch movement on my right side. “Fuck.”

Becker is right beside me. If he takes me on the outside, I’m screwed.

I shake my head again. I’ve done this a thousand times and nothing bad happened.Focus on your skill, on the car, on the road. Accelerate and maintain your lead. That’s all you have to do.

Instead, I do the opposite. I hesitate, and Becker slings past me and takes the lead.

I hear Chase’s muffled curses through my headset, and I know I’ve lost.

I lift my foot off the pedal and let my momentum push me over the finish line. While Becker takes his victory lap, I glide into the pit and stop next to my crew. Turning off my headset, I don’t bother getting out right away. There’s no reason to. Plus, I don’t want to hear my brother’s criticism.

Chase is the first to approach. He likely told the others to stay back. He knows me too well. Even if I was in top condition, my temper gets the best of me when I lose. But I’m not losing my temper today. Whatever is going on in my head it isn’t feeding my anger. I feel lost, and not because of the race.

Chase leans against the car and pins me with a stare. “You okay?”

I nod and lift my helmet off my head. “Let me out of here.”

He steps back so I can climb out. I may hate the fact that I lost, but I’m not a sore loser. I always congratulate the winner.

Once Becker’s car stops, I make my way toward him, along with a crowd of others. His crew surrounds his car, and they practically drag him out of the car in excitement. They don’t even give the guy a chance to take his helmet off first.

I grin. How could I not? I remember what it was like winning a big race for the first time. This may not be the ARCA series, but the first-place prize money is still a good chunk of change.

Hell, I’m still getting paid well for second place.

Becker gets to his feet and lifts his helmet over his head. I freeze when a mop of long, red hair falls down his back. Or should I sayherback?

Becker slowly turns around as if she knows someone is gaping at her. When her eyes meet mine, my jaw drops.

My Sophia from Wednesday night just handed my ass to me—again—only this time racing stock cars.

Instead of shaking her hand like I always do with the winner of a race, I spin around and head to my tent. Betrayal and mistrust overwhelm me. She had every opportunity to tell me she’d be racing today, but she kept it from me. Why? Did I give her reason to think she couldn’t be honest with me?

I liked her, and she lied to me.

My walk turns into a sprint as I bypass the tent and head to my truck instead. I’m blinded by fury and anger, and I have to get as far away from her as possible before my temper flares.

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