Chapter 1

Ashton

Racing…

…flows through my veins.

…is everything I am.

…is my birthright.

…is my first and only love.

…almost killed me.

Every inch of my skin crawls with the need to get back on the track, to get my hands back around the wheel, to feel the rush of adrenaline as my foot presses the pedal to the floor as I lead a pack of world-class drivers around turns, over esses and down straights.

I was also terrified.

The months of recovery were worse than anything I’d ever been through save for the wreck itself. The doctors said it would take six to eight months before I’d walk without a cane, before I’d be able to move around on my own without some kind of aid.

I achieved more than they expected in three months. I exceeded every physical test in five months and was nearly back to my normal exercise routine.

They didn’t know me. They didn’t know what I was capable of. They didn’t know what drove me, what pushed me to defy every obstacle.

I dared anyone to contradict me. I dared anyone to deny me my anger, my ambition, my drive to get back what’s mine, even if they didn’t know the kind of pain that dogs every move I make.

I’d finally been cleared to climb into the car. At least, physically.

And I’d heard more than once that I needed more talk therapy, that my emotions and my mind weren’t under control enough to handle stressful situations.

My therapist didn’t agree and wouldn’t sign off. She said I needed to reconcile everything that had changed with my body, mind, and emotions. She didn’t want me back in a race car for at least a year. A part of me knew that I didn’t belong in one yet, that my head was still too fucked up, but I found someone who, for a pretty stiff price, would sign the forms I needed.

Leonardo Glitterati, my father, would present a whole other hurdle for me to jump over.

In the world of racing, I was his son in name only. He treated me like anyone else in his employ, sometimes harder, harsher, but never favored, never as the heir to the empire.

I had yet to pass his tests. He hadn’t decided if I was mentally ready to get back to business. He also thought I was too hot headed, too driven by anger and revenge to get his car back into victory lane.

The truth was, I had those same thoughts, too, but from a different perspective.

“Ashton.”

Here goes nothing.

I entered his office as casually as I could, doing my best to ignore the pain and stiffness with those first steps.

He sat behind the large, wooden desk that had been in our family for generations. The origins of it and how it came to be included with our possessions was a tale long forgotten.

“Sit.”

I was used to the gruff, all-business tone and it no longer bothered me. It never changed. No matter if he was pleased with something I’d done or not.

The chair across the desk was uncomfortable and I shifted just once, then focused on the rain coming down so hard outside that I couldn’t see through it.

Winter rain wasn’t unusual in Florida, but it was often bone chillingly cold, especially this close to the ocean.

He continued writing in a deep brown leather notebook for a moment longer and when he spoke, he didn’t look up.

“There’s a track test set for later this week.”

I continued to stare out at the wall of water beyond his shoulders. Did he think I didn’t know that? It was written on every calendar I owned.

I nodded, more to myself than to him. “Yeah.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

“Really?”

What did he want me to say? I did my best to keep my tone even and devoid of…anything. Impatience or attitude pissed him off. I’d seen it ruin careers. “Really.”

His eyes met mine across the expanse of wood. It was like looking into an aged mirror.

“Huh. You haven’t even driven yourself anywhere in a street car. You haven’t taken any of the test cars out. You haven’t even sat inside one or had the specs set for you seat. You can’t say you’re ready to race and expect me to believe you.”

I couldn’t, but I would. “I’m ready. The rain messed with my plans today.” Even I heard the excuse for what it was. We raced in the rain all the time. Hard, or slow and steady, it didn’t matter for us the way it did in some other racing series.

“What about yesterday? And the day before that? Last week? Brax is ready. He can take the first few races for you and we have other drivers we can pull in at the last minute if we need to.”

Red clouded the edges of my vision. “I don’t need Brax to take my seat. I told you I’m ready.”

“What about Hale?”

The red darkened, filled in. “What about him?”

“Have you talked to him?”

“I don’t have anything to say to him.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You can’t start this season without settling things.”

“What do you want me to do? Call him? Go on a date? Kiss and make up?”

“The sarcasm isn’t helpful.”

I knew that before the words ever came out of my mouth, but fuck…

“You need to talk to him. Hear his side of the story. Bury your anger and forgive.”

“Dad…”

“There will be no retaliation in a Glitterati car.” He didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t show any sign that this was more than a business meeting with an employee. The only change he allowed me to see was the shift in his eyes. They hardened, the color lightening to that of watered-down whiskey. “Do I make myself clear?”

“I wasn’t planning to retaliate.” We both knew the statement for the lie that it was, but I wouldn’t take it back.

“Talk to him or Brax will be in your seat for as many starts as it takes for you to get yourself under control.”

The threat was real. It was more than that, though. It was a promise. Leonardo Glitterati didn’t make idle threats and he didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. He’d take everything from me without blinking until he was satisfied that I’d learned my lesson.

I couldn’t let that happen. I’d worked too fucking hard to lose it now.

“Fine.”

“Before Friday.”

“Before Friday,” I agreed.

“Good. Now… Have you heard from your mother?”

When my father talked of my mother, his eyes softened, darkened, and he became a different man. When it came to my mother, I became his son, not the championship driver that brought the company renewed respect and put us back on the map after years of obscurity.

“No. Is everything alright?”

“She’s planning her annual dinner to celebrate the new season. When she calls, say yes. And be happy about it.”

Normally, I liked that dinner. I enjoyed getting together with everyone before the start of the new racing season. Most of us grew up racing around the country together. Some of us were in stock cars now, some were open wheel, and the rest of us were involved in endurance racing with sports cars. It was fun to see the guys and shoot the shit.

I wasn’t in the mood this year.

“Don’t upset her, Ashton.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He knew that. He knew I loved my mother. She was one of the best friends I’d ever had. She was the one I could talk to about anything, share anything with.

Okay, so maybe not everything, or just anything. She didn’t know about the rage that permeated every pore. She also didn’t know about the fear that made me shake and break out in a full-body sweat when I thought about getting into a race car.

No one knew.

No one would ever know.

If anyone found out, not only would I be out of my seat this season, but every season for the foreseeable future. And I’d definitely be out of Glitterati Racing.

Nope. No one would ever know.

I couldn’t lose my ride. I couldn’t lose my career. I couldn’t lose anything else.

My unshakeable confidence, my daredevil side was more than enough to sacrifice.

“Thank you. You can go.”

I nodded, but again he didn’t see it. He’d lowered his eyes back to the notebook, dismissing me.

Once outside the office, I breathed easier and my shoulders sagged. For a moment, I leaned against the wall, closing my eyes, only to open them immediately.

I was exhausted. My sleep was screwed up and had been since I stopped all my meds. Besides, they hadn’t kept the nightmares at bay. They hadn’t stopped me seeing the wreck in flashbacks and slow motion behind my eyelids.

And my father wanted me to reach out to the asshole responsible.

Hale Troye should’ve been punted from the sport.

How was I supposed to move on? How was I supposed to remain calm? How was I supposed to not want to turn him into the nearest wall and flip him over it? How was I supposed to forgive him for the physical and mental anguish, the goddamn fear that lived with me every single second?

How?

I pushed myself off the wall. With a measured gait and aching with every step, I made my way to the end of the hallway, avoiding the eyes of my great-grandfather, my grandfather, and my father as they followed me from their portraits hanging along the walls. I avoided looking at the trophy cases. I avoided looking at everything but the far wall.

I took the stairs to the ground floor. The movement helped to work the stiffness out of my legs to the point I could almost forget the broken bones, the pins and plates and rods, and all the therapy.

Almost.

I remembered that one of my doctors told me that I’d feel the weather in my bones and I wondered if everything I currently felt was what he’d meant.

“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.

“As I live and breathe. Ashton Glitterati is gracing me with his presence.”

I turned my head in the direction of the voice. Karl Kasen. Championship car chief.

“Shit. Don’t be like that.” I grinned. “Hey man.”

“I’ve been wondering when you’d come see me. We’re cutting it close.” He started to close the distance between us and I forced myself to meet him halfway. I could do this. I could do all of this.

“Missed me, have you?”

We hugged when we were close enough and I didn’t hug just anyone. I was grateful for the embrace, though. It gave me a chance to hold onto something solid and blink a few times. I couldn’t risk being seen with confusion or anything less than sharp focus in my eyes.

“You know the answer to that,” he said when we parted. His features began to clear and his shrewd gaze unnerved me a little. He didn’t miss anything. “How are you feeling?”

Scared shitless. “I’m good.”

Lying to Karl wasn’t something I should ever do and it wasn’t something I’d ever done before. Lying to him could lead to some very bad results both in the car and out of it. I’d known him since I started racing. He’d worked on every race car I’d driven, from karts all the way to the series championship a couple of seasons ago.

Hell, he taught me everything I knew.

And the wreck had been hard on him, too. I hadn’t paid enough attention to anyone else really to understand how what happened on the track affected them. No driver raced without a hell of a lot of help. I’d been stuck in my own world, though. I was still stuck in my own world, but I honestly didn’t know how else to be anymore.

No one else could recover for me. No one else could fix what was wrong with me. No one else could get me through this. Not this part of it.

I’d never felt so alone.

If I told him the truth, he’d try to help me work through it, but it would also mean that I’d be forced to sit out the start of the season and maybe even for the duration until the start of next season.

So, I had to lie.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Why doesn’t anyone believe me when I say that?”

“Because you’ve been through some kind of hell, that’s why. It would be more than okay if you said you weren’t good.”

I pondered my next words carefully.

“We both know I can’t do that.”

His eyes narrowed and I fought the urge to hide. I faced his scrutiny with a defiance I needed to cloak myself in. It needed to become my armor.

“Okay. What are you here for? You don’t want to take a car out in this mess, do you? Not for your first time in months…”

“No. But I… I want to see the car.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea, Ash?”

“Maybe not, but I need to.”

He stared at me, challenging my words without saying anything. I sighed.

“It’s another piece of the puzzle I need to face. I don’t think I can put it fully behind me if I don’t see it for myself. Please tell me you understand that, Karl.”

I didn’t know what more to say, but it didn’t seem that I needed to say anything else. He nodded, albeit reluctantly, and turned around, walking toward the set of double doors at the back of the room.

I took a deep breath to steady myself as a line of cars came into view, their gleaming wraps mirrored on the highly polished floor.

I missed the sights, the smells, the precious atmosphere. I’d taken all this for granted and I chastised myself for it. It was hallowed ground just as the tracks were. It was gifted to so few people at a time, gifted to the most worthy.

My fingers trembled as I reached out to touch the hood of what would be my car. It was in perfect, unblemished condition. It was ready for the hauler, for the track, for the race in a couple of weeks. On the outside.

But was it ready for me?

I curled my hand into a fist and shoved it down into my pocket.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I won’t.”

He led the way to another door and handed over a set of keys. After giving me one last wary look, he walked away, leaving me to face this particular demon alone. Through the rain, I could just make out the small building, no bigger than a single car garage. All our wrecked cars ended up there after a race so the engineers and technicians and mechanics could do a deep dive into what held together and what didn’t.

I quickly crossed the distance, soaked to the skin within three steps. I said I would welcome it, and that was good because I was in the fucking thick of it.

I slid the key in the lock with a shaking hand, then punched in the security code. One lock clicked loose. I turned the key and the second lock let go.

Lights flickered on as soon as I stepped inside.

Immediately, my breath caught in my throat and my knees dropped me to the floor. For once, the pain was welcome.

In the center of the room were the remains of my wrecked car. There was nothing to salvage. There was nothing solid left of the frame. There was nothing solid left at all. The seat was bent and crumpled. The steering column was twisted and hanging.

Kneeling where I was, safe and sound, I could feel the heat from the flames as they erupted, then centralized. I could smell the oil. I could feel the initial pain, the shock, the out of body experience. I could feel how trapped I was.

Nausea filled my entire body and I crawled to the nearby trash can. I barely made it before my stomach forced everything up my throat and out my mouth. I wretched, over and over, heaving the meager contents into the can.

When I was sure I was finished, I leaned back against the wall and wiped my mouth with my sleeve.

It was several long minutes more before I climbed to my feet and inched closer.

Slowly, so fucking slowly, I made my way around the car, studying every part of it, committing it to memory.

Axles were bent in ways they were never intended to bend.

The car was unrecognizable. There was no color to it save for black and gray. The once bright teal of the wrapping was gone.

Looking at the guts of my car, the anger, familiar and strangely comforting, took over. As I stared at the car, and as the realizations and memories flooded my mind, the anger became an animal all unto itself, stunning me in its ferocity. I didn’t know that I’d ever come back from it if I let it take me. Worse… I didn’t know that I’d want to come back from it.

When I stood next to what had been the cockpit, the driver’s seat, my seat, I pulled my phone from my pocket and took a picture of it.

Then, I dialed up the man responsible.

“Ashton?” Hale said by way of greeting. “Hey man.”

“We need to talk.”

And I would process later how it felt to hear his voice after all these months and why it hurt, why it turned some of the anger to sadness…

“Okay. When?”

“Tomorrow. Noon. I’ll come there.”

“Sure. Whenever. I wanted to —”

I didn’t let him finish. I hung up before he could.

I would do what my father needed me to do. I’d meet with Hale. I’d say whatever I needed to say to get back in a car. I’d play all the parts just right.

But I’d never forget.

And one of these days, when no one expected it, I’d make Hale Troye pay.

 

Chapter 2

Helen

“Hale? Are you okay?”

“I…” He held up his cell phone. “I just got a call from Ashton.”

The surprised shock on his face matched the surprised shock I felt inside. After months of radio silence, why would he be calling now?

“Really?” My brow furrowed. “How did he sound? What did he want?”

The look morphed into the familiar uncertainty that I’d been seeing on his face as the new racing season drew closer. We were only a couple of weeks away now.

It was no secret that I was worried about him, but my concerns were dismissed anytime I brought it up.

“To come by tomorrow. He’ll be here around noon. And he sounded…fine, I guess. I…”

He settled in the nearest chair and I walked further into the room to take a seat on the coffee table in front of him. “Are you okay with that? Maybe you should meet him somewhere… I don’t know. Public?”

“Why? Do you think he’ll take a swing at me?”

“Are you sure he won’t?”

“Yeah. He’s my best friend outside of you. All of us are best friends. That has to count for something.”

I wish I shared my brother’s optimism. “We all were best friends, Hale. No one seems to know what’s going on with him.”

“I know. I hear things in shop and around others that no one has seen him, there’s no talk about press or anything really, but he’ll come around, right?” He stared at me with questions swirling in his eyes, questions I didn’t know how to answer. “He’ll realize… After all this time, he’ll have realized that…”

I placed my hand on his knee as some form of comfort. I doubt it did any good at all.

“Ashton Glitterati isn’t the most level-headed man at the best of times, and I’m pretty sure all that he’s been through hasn’t changed that part of him.”

“It was an accident,” he said, the words soft and pained. My brother had been through a lot of emotional and mental shifts since the wreck that sent Ashton into the nearest barrier and being life-flighted from the track.

Hale had gone to therapy, but if it helped him, I didn’t know. He rarely talked about the wreck, his sessions, his prep for the season… He wasn’t the same man, either.

I started to say something, anything, but instead I just sat with him.

That one crash had changed all of us. Friendships. Business relationships.

Hale scrubbed a hand over his face and up into his hair that was the same shade of midnight black as mine. He fisted and tugged on the short strands before surging up, treading heavily across the room. He was fidgety – hands in his pockets, arms crossed over his chest, fingers pressing into the wall. He was never calm and casual anymore.

“He should know it was an accident. He has to know.”

The uncertainty and the lack of confidence broke my heart every single time.

“He should,” I agreed.

Hale saw the best in people until they showed him a different side. He wanted to believe Ashton would see things clearly, but I didn’t have that same faith. Ashton was the do first, think later type. He ran roughshod over everything and everyone in his way. It was what made him dangerous.

Great.

Exciting.

And he was last man I needed to still be crushing on, the last man I needed to want in the worst possible way. Not seeing him for so long had been hard when we were used to seeing him all the time.

My brother struggled to get through the rest of last season after the accident that ended Ashton’s follow up to his championship the year before. Hale finished second to last when he should’ve finished first or at least runner-up.

The wreck shook everyone associated with racing, especially within the series itself.

“Do you know anyone who’s talked to him?”

“Outside his family? No. Brax said Ash spends most of his time alone and is pretty harsh when he has to be around anyone.”

“Yeah, when I went down to Daytona for promotional ops at the end of December, there was a little murmur about the fact that he wasn’t there and no one knew if he was going to show up…”

“Glitterati may be doing Ashton’s preseason press kits on their own. Maybe they don’t want to field questions, yet.”

“Maybe.”

Everything to do with Glitterati Racing was handled in house, from their drivers to their sponsors to who was allowed access to all marketing and branding and social media. They were a tight run, tight-lipped operation.

As the VP of marketing at our family’s firm, Troye, LTD, I oversaw Hale’s marketing and branding, along with several other drivers and a few niche entertainers. And even though Glitterati kept everything pretty close and quiet, Ashton not being around for any outside preseason photo events was odd. He’d never met a camera he didn’t like.

His absence also added fuel to speculation and rumors. I might be a VP, but I knew enough people and I was accessible enough that I always heard most things before the media did and recently, some rumors had been swirling that put me a little more on edge than usual for the start of a new racing season.

I hated the rumor mill. I hated the doubts it created. I hated how it undermined good deals and good people.

“Everything good with your car for the season?”

Hale raced for Billy Greene Motorsports. They were a small operation based in the Midwest with two cars in two different classes. One all professional, and one pro-am. They usually brought everything down to Daytona at the start of the year, rented some warehouse space for set-up. It just made things easier.

“Yeah. It looks great. The new sponsors have really done wonders with the money and the green and white designs are stellar. I’m ready to get back to it, get back on the track.”

I’d had to work closely with Billy Greene himself to get that one new sponsor for Hale after the wreck. He’d had a few pull back and a big one drop him for what they thought was dirty driving. After the dust settled and penalties were served and statements were made, the marketing landscape softened and we were able to get someone to come in and put up the primary sponsor money alongside the manufacturer.

As I studied Hale from beneath my lashes, I wondered if he really was ready to get back to racing. He was only out of the car for one race following the wreck. That was one of the good things about endurance racing. They didn’t race each week. He’d effectively taken six weeks away from it. He’d been mildly injured and that gave him some time to recover, but I still wasn’t sure he’d recovered mentally or emotionally.

I would bet the family business that my brother wasn’t sleeping and that he was still reliving that day.

It took me months to stop seeing it play out in my own head. Ashton’s car briefly engulfed in flames. Hale’s car sliding nose first into the tire wall on the other side of the track. It took me months to sleep through the night.

I could only imagine how Hale must’ve felt on the inside.

Ashton’s family.

Fans, other drivers and teams, other racers from all over the world.

Social media and doomscrolling hadn’t helped. There hadn’t been a day since that videos of the wreck weren’t posted or re-posted from fans. There hadn’t been a day since that those videos weren’t clipped and edited and used as memes.

It was disgusting. We’d grown up with social media, but once I began working in marketing, I’d learned to hate it more than enjoy it. It wasn’t what it used to be and I’m not sure it ever was anything we needed.

Hale wasn’t interested in social media anymore. He only went online now to race. Ashton used to be the same. I didn’t know if he still was. I hoped so.

We had a social media manager that kept up with everything and I’d never been more grateful for anyone in my professional life as I was for Val. She posted stuff on behalf of Hale and our other drivers. She kept me updated on what was being said and if there was anything that needed my attention. Before the wreck, everything ran smoothly. After the wreck, the trolls and bad actors came out of the woodwork.

For the most part, Val’s work allowed me to still enjoy the sport I’d loved since the first time I climbed into Hale’s kart. After that, I’d begged our parents for one of my own.

Racing was in my blood as much as it was in Hale’s, Ashton’s, Brax’s… As much as it was in the blood of everyone that took to a track.

“When was the last time you saw him?”

Hale’s question confused me and pulled me out of my head.

“I, uh…”

“I know you went to the hospital, but have you seen him at all in the months since?”

“No. You’d have known if I had.”

As soon as I was able to, I went to visit Ashton. He hadn’t known I was there. His mother saw me, hugged me, thanked me for coming to see him. She asked after Hale, told me she didn’t blame him and when I expressed my thoughts that Ashton likely wouldn’t feel the same, she told me not to judge him too harshly, that given time, he’d see it for the accident that it was.

I still had my doubts about that.

“I should’ve gone more,” he said. “I should’ve spent time with him. Talked to him and not let things fester and get out of hand.”

“Hale…”

“It was my fault. It was an accident, sure. They happen all the time in racing, but there’s always someone at fault, even when everyone says there isn’t.”

I stared at him from across the room. He’d turned his back to me again. “Is there something you haven’t told me about it?”

He shook his head. “No.”

There was something in that one word that gave me pause, but I also figured he blamed himself every second of the day and night. I wished I knew how to help him. I wished I knew how to mend his friendship with Ashton.

I wished I knew how to be friends with Ashton again. We hadn’t spoken since before that race. He hadn’t reached out to me and I hadn’t reached out to him.

Everything seemed so uncertain and uncomfortable. That’s what silence did.

Immediately after the wreck, we’d heard from other drivers and team owners, manufacturers, sponsors, racing execs… Some were looking to protect their interests, some were gauging his mental health, and some were genuinely concerned for Hale the person.

One thing that had always been true was how small the racing community was, no matter if it was a series based solely in North America or one that raced from one side of the world to the other, and it was an even smaller community when there was such a horrific wreck that involved a championship driver.

“Do you want me to be here tomorrow when he comes?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. I—”

I was interrupted by the ringing of my phone. When I saw the name on the screen, I couldn’t hide the wry smile. Talk about timing.

“Hello?”

“Hello. Helen?

“Mrs. Glitterati. How are you?”

Hale turned his head to the side, telling me without words that he was listening in and didn’t intend to leave the room.

“I’m doing well, thank you. Do you have a few minutes?”

“Of course.”

“Well, first of all, how many times have I told you to call me Francesca or Frannie?”

“Pretty much every single time we talk. I’ll try to work on that.”

“I would appreciate that. We’re all adults now. It’s the new year and a new season. I’m working on plans for my annual season starter dinner. I wanted to be sure you and Hale would be able to attend?”

Francesca Glitterati threw the best dinner parties. They were casual, usually full of laughs and video games and racing egos. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

She knew exactly what I was talking about.

“They have to in the same room at some point, Helen. They can’t avoid each other forever.”

I didn’t tell her that Ashton was planning to see Hale in less than twenty-four hours. I wasn’t sure we’d be invited afterward. Then again, maybe she already knew.

“I suppose you’re right.”

“So, I can expect you both?”

“I’ll speak with Hale, but for now, yes, of course.”

“What about your parents?”

“No, I’m afraid they won’t be arriving until the day before the race.”

“They won’t be here for the Roar?”

“Not this year, but you know they’ll want to have a little get together so they can show off their pictures from their latest adventures.”

“Where did they jet off to this time?”

“Australia, New Zealand, and Tasmania.”

I tried to hide the wistfulness in my voice. I hadn’t taken a vacation in years, not a real vacation, at least. A few days here and there didn’t count. Our parents took every off season, from right after Thanksgiving to the week before the 24HRS of Daytona to travel somewhere together.

There was an executive team that managed the day-to-day operations of Troye, LTD, of which I was a part of when my father wasn’t available, on top of my marketing department job.

“Oh I imagine they’ve been having a lovely time.”

“Yes, I imagine they have been.”

I wouldn’t know, really. They didn’t keep in regular touch with us. They sent a photo from time to time, but I hadn’t heard either my mother’s or my father’s voice since they left.

“Well, I won’t keep you. But… Helen? You’re still welcome to join us even if Hale wishes to decline.”

“That’s very kind, Mrs. — Francesca. One or both of us will be there.”

“Wonderful. Friday evening. Eight o’clock. And bring an appetite. I think there’s going to be enough food to feed every driver on the circuit, their crew members, and their families. I might’ve gone a little overboard.”

I laughed softly at the image she painted. She always went a little overboard. “We’ll arrive with ravenous appetites. Thank you for inviting us.”

“You’re both always welcome in our home.”

We said our good-byes and Hale turned to look at me. “The annual dinner before the green flag?”

“Yes.”

He offered a stiff nod. “I’m not going.”

“Hale… I know it’s going to be hard. You haven’t seen anyone since the end of the season until recently. You’ve stayed at home. You haven’t done anything you normally do and other than talking to Craig and me, you’ve become a hermit. Avoiding everyone isn’t going to make it easier.”

“I’ve been virtual racing,” he said defensively. “I’ve been talking to people.”

I tried not to roll my eyes.

“You haven’t hung out with friends. You haven’t taken weekend trips with the guys.”

“Don’t you think sides have been taken?”

“Not in the way you’re thinking they have. You can’t keep hiding, Hale.”

“I’m not hiding. It was barely two months ago when we were in Atlanta. Maybe I just needed a break from everyone.”

I didn’t believe him. He usually went camping and golfing with a few of the drivers and crew members between the end of the season and Christmas. He did none of that this time around. “Maybe seeing Ashton tomorrow will be a good thing.”

“You don’t believe that, do you?”

“Maybe. And why not? You said a few minutes ago that he’s your best friend.”

“Don’t use my words against me. I have no idea what he’ll be like and neither do you.”

Hale was afraid that Ashton blamed him and he could be right. Maybe Ashton would want some sort of revenge, to take his anger out on Hale, but that wouldn’t do either of them any good.

The only revenge to exact would be on the track and that could get Ashton suspended from the sport and injure one or both of them.

Of course, Hale never voiced any of that. It was just that sixth sense twins had that told me what he was feeling more than anything.

I had to believe that Ashton was looking for an explanation from Hale, looking for Hale’s side of what happened, especially since all of us had grown up racing together and there’d never been any kind of accident like the one between them back in the summer.

“Do you still like him?”

The question caught me off guard and I turned wary eyes on him. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t even… And you’re blushing.”

I shut my gaze away from him and shook my head. “Shut up.”

“Tell me.”

“Hale…” I sighed and slumped back on the couch. “How did you know?”

“I’ve always known. Brax has, too. Mom and Dad. Probably even Ashton.”

I groaned and covered my face with both hands. I knew it was a possibility that Hale and Brax would see it, figure it out… But my parents? Ashton?

“Will you ever tell him?”

“No.”

“You should.”

“No.”

“Now who’s scared?”

“Damn straight. I will take how I feel about Ashton to the grave.”

“Why?”

“Because you know how he is with women. The same one never makes it to the next race.

“Maybe there’s a reason for that.”

“There is. Ashton Glitterati is a slut and has been since y’all lost your virginity to those three women in Vegas. So, let’s just drop it, okay.”

I felt his eyes on me, his surprise. He didn’t think I’d known about that weekend.

“Now who’s blushing?”

He lifted his hands in surrender.

“Okay. We’ll drop it. For now.”

I laughed, but there was no humor in it. I would hide away from him and this topic as much as I would hide away from showing or telling Ashton anything about my feelings for him.

“What do you think about a couple of pizzas tonight and a movie marathon?”

One eye opened and fixed itself on him. “What kind of pizza?”

“Taco? Barbeque? Buffalo chicken?”

“One of each. And you’re buying.”

“Then you’re picking the movies.”

Ugh. I sucked at picking things to watch, but if it would keep Ashton Glitterati off our minds for several hours, I would give movie choices my complete and total attention. “Fine.”