Page 6 of Speeding Hearts

“Where the hell are you?” Dad asked, his voice echoing in my ear and a few feet away down the hall.

“You know where I am. Why are you calling?”

“Because you weren’t answering me when I goddamned yelled. It’s what you get for making me keep this damn cell phone on me,” he said when I got to his room. He stabbed a finger at his screen, disconnecting our call.

The first thing I’d done when I got here was get dad a cell phone. I made him promise under penalty of only canned beans for dinner that he’d keep it on him and charged at all times so I could check up on him when I wasn’t around.

I shoved my phone back in my pocket. He looked older than I’d ever seen him, his scruffy chin rumpled and gray, his hair mussed from sleep. He was twisted sideways so he could rub a hand against his back.

“What do you need?” I asked.

“What the hell else? Dinner.”

God, he was a crabby bastard.

* * *

I didn’t endup texting Stella back until Monday morning. I was back at the garage bright and early, trying to straighten out the books. Dad hadn’t just gotten sloppy at home the last few years. The office was a mess too.

After getting Dad fed on Saturday, I’d spent the rest of the night cleaning out his kitchen—I don’t think it had seen a bottle of cleaner in a decade. I wasn’t a neat freak or anything, but the surfaces were all tacky with grime; the cupboards half-filled with ancient tins and boxes of expired food. On Sunday, I went shopping, restocking all his cupboards with food that wouldn’t give him botulism, cleaning supplies, and more cleaning supplies. I had planned on spending the afternoon picking up some stuff for my own temporary apartment I’d be staying at while I was here; a modest one-bedroom suite at Oak Bend Apartments. I had only moved in last week, and so far, I had a bed and an easy chair but nothing else. It was depressing as hell. But instead, I’d realized Dad would need help getting food prepped during the week ahead.

In other words, I’d kept myself busy.

But on Monday morning, I found myself drifting as I organized a decade’s worth of unsorted files while Dad’s one employee, a competent, quiet guy Dad’s age called Stu, handled the two cars in the bay.

Thinking of Stella.

I told myself I hadn’t texted her because I was giving her space to settle in. But while I’d checked my phone a thousand times in case she’d texted again, I knew the reason I hadn’t written back was because my stomach was in goddamned knots about it.

There was something about Stella being here, onmyturf—my hometown—that made everything change. Back in Jewel Lakes, it had been simple—I saw her when I went in to service the trucks and for the occasional casual beer. We could talk about cars and life and everything in between, and I could pretend, for the most part, that there was nothing else there. I could stuff the feelings down.

Because me and feelings didn’t mix.

It worked, most of the time. I made sure there wasn’t anything else between us.

I made sure of that.

I made sure to keep her square in my mind: my mechanic friend, Stella. Strictly just buddies.Safelyjust buddies.

But having her here made me nervous as hell.

I knew the moment I saw her I’d have to confront the fact that she was here entirely because of me. When I’d found out I was leaving Jewel Lakes, I’d dropped the hint about my uncle’s racetrack needing a mechanic over the summer without really thinking it through. I knew it might be an opportunity for her to try out racing, which was what she wanted. But even the thought of her behind the wheel of a race car made me feel like throwing up.

Not everyone is as reckless as you were. Not everyone lets their feelings dictate their actions.

I was better now than I used to be at using my head. She was careful. She wouldn’t take the kinds of risks I’d taken when I last drove a stock car.

Still—if something happened to Stella? My stomach lurched even now, thinking about it.

But it wasn’t just me being worried about her safety. Having Stella here made me feel strangely exposed. Back in Jewel Lakes, I could parse out information about myself and my past to her in small doses. I could carefully sidestep the feelings. But here, Stella was going to see the real me, the life I’d left behind. She’d see my messy family. The people I’d gone to high school with.

She’d meet the people I had hurt. Like Victoria.

And when she saw all of that, she’d probably take off faster than a goddamn Formula One car.

But what was I going to do,nevertext her? Just pretend she wasn’t even here?

I swear to God, I considered it. Instead, I told myself to suck it up. I knew I couldn’t avoid her any longer.