Page 105 of Happy Hour

Suddenly his eyes returned, as though he hadn’t realized it wasmethat was looking at him.

In that moment, his eyes said it all.

Jameson was right, he would never be whatIneeded and I’d never be whatheneeded.

I never understood that part, until now. I wasn’t the only one he was referring to. He didn’t need some track promoter’s pit lizard daughter following him around. Sure, he needed me as a friend but he didn’t need the complication we now had.

My stupid emotions got the better of me.

Judging by Jameson’s tortured expression, I knew he saw the tears streaming down my face even from fifteen feet away.

Shaking his head slowly, his eyes fell closed.

I could see he was breathing heavy. After a moment, he continued his routine by placing his ear buds in, helmet, and then locking the steering wheel in place. Once he motioned for Spencer to raise the window net, I looked away.

I couldn’t believe how in one afternoon, everything between us had changed. Everything I felt for him was still there, but everything had changed in aneverythingtype of way.

I also knew that anything that happened—didn’t matter.

Well it did but still, he needed me, and Iknewhe did. He needed me because for the past eleven years, I wasalwaysthere for him. I was there waiting to pick up the pieces should they fall apart. But the thing was, despite whatever happened, that wasn’t Jameson—he wouldn’t fall apart.

Not like I could at least.

The race didn’t go well. Jameson said little throughout the race until the handling got so bad he couldn’t keep the car on the track.

At a track with twelve complex turns, that wasn’t a comforting feeling I’m sure.

“I’m slippin’ all over the place. I can’t keep it straight.” Jameson announced halfway through the race. “We gotta change something.”

“Other than the slipping, do you feel anything else?” Kyle asked while he looked over lap times with Mason. “Any adjustments you want made?”

“I don’t know what’s going to help.” Jameson told him. “It’s hot out here, the tires just slip. There’s no grip anywhere.”

Jameson’s car was extremely loose once the track heated up.

When the track heats up from the tires creating friction, it begins to feel slippery as oil is released from the asphalt as its temperature increased from the friction created. Two things happen at that point, you have no grip for one and the tires become malleable as tiny pieces of rubber are torn away from all that friction. Eventually all that rubber laid down will counteract that but there’s a period when nothing helps.

Only eighty laps into the race, he hit the wall coming out of the second turn.

“Heavy damage to right rear quarter panel,” Aiden announced.

Moments passed where the assessed the car on pit road until Kyle announced the news.

“Take it to the truck.”

Jameson hadn’t said anything yet on the radio and judging by his earlier mood, I didn’t think he would.

Stepping down from the pit box, the crew loaded up, and I made my way back to the hauler.

When Jameson pulled the car in, I could see the grim expression plastered across his face. He would take a huge hit in the points for this DNF but I also knew that wasn’t hisonlyconcern at the moment. Whatever had been on his mind before the race was still there.

When he drew himself from the car, he threw his helmet across the hood and stomped inside the hauler without looking at anyone slamming the door behind him.

What followed was a stream of loud ear splitting crashes.

Jameson was like a ticking time bomb of immense strength, combined with a penchant for highly intelligent over-analysis. It could make for a deadly combination at times.

Kyle shook his head leaning against the car while the crashes dissipated, his arms folded over his chest. “He acts like a goddamn child at times.”

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