Page 41 of You, Me, and Lucky Number 13

“Let’s win this fucking thing,” I growl, pushing the Viper to its limits.

I can almost hear the smile in Lola’s voice. “That’s my boy. Now show these assholes what you’re made of.”

The world blurs into a haze of speed and adrenaline. Tane tries to box me in, just as Lola predicted, but I’m ready for him. I feint left, then cut hard right, threading the needle between his car and the wall. Metal screams, sparks fly. But I’m through.

“Fucking beautiful,” Lola breathes in my ear. Her pride hits me harder than any G-force ever could.

We’re in sync now, her words and my reflexes moving as one. The laps tick by, a blur of sweat and focus and raw determination.

“Two more to go,” she says. “You’ve got this, Cole.”

I’m in the zone, that sweet spot where nothing exists but the track and her voice. The finish line’s in sight, but Tane’s notgiving up. He’s on my ass, looking for any opening, but I sure as shit am not going to give him one.

“Don’t get cocky,” Lola warns. “He’s gonna try something desperate.”

She’s right. Of course, she’s fucking right. I feel Tane’s car nudge my rear bumper, trying to destabilize me. The bastard’s playing dirty.

“Steady,” Lola says, her voice soothing. “Let him make the mistake.”

I grit my teeth, fighting the urge to retaliate. One wrong move and it’s over. Everything we’ve worked for, gone in a cloud of dust and twisted metal.

The final turn looms. Tane makes his move, trying to slingshot past me on the inside. Time slows. I can see it all playing out. If I block him, we’ll both crash. If I don’t, I lose.

“Trust me,” Lola’s voice cuts through the chaos. “Hold your line.”

I do. I fight against every instinct screaming at me to defend my position, but I hold steady. Tane overshoots, his tires skidding on the loose gravel. He fishtails, barely keeping control.

I punch it. The Viper roars, surging forward like a beast unchained. We cross the finish line in a blur of checkered flags and screaming fans.

Lola shouts. The cool professionalism is gone, replaced by pure, unbridled joy. “You fucking did it, Cole!”

I’m laughing, the sound raw and primal. Relief, triumph, and something else—something tied to the woman on the other end of this radio—all mixed up inside me.

As I take my victory lap, all I can think is:I’m going to fuck the smile off her face.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

COLE

Another win for Hahn racing,another celebration. This time, go-kart racing.

You’d think I’d be tired of racing and sore from sitting so long, and I am, but nothing compares to a concrete track with flimsy plastic barricades and my crew trying to best me for bragging rights.

I have my sights on the go-kart with the number thirteen painted on the side, but Lola rushes past me like a bullet… “Nice try Cole. You know thirteen is my lucky number.”

“Maybe itwasyour lucky number, but it’s mine now,” I tease. I did change my car number to thirteen, after all.

The whole crew settles in for a little friendly competition, and we’re off. Lap after lap, some of the pressure melts away.

I slam the go-kart into another turn, tires squealing in protest. The smell of burning rubber and gasoline fills my nostrils, a familiar cocktail that sets my blood on fire.

“On your left, old man!” Lola’s voice rings out, full of laughter and challenge.

I growl, a grin spreading across my face despite myself. “In your dreams, princess.”

We’re neck and neck, our karts barely an inch apart as we tear down the straightaway. The rest of the crew’s scattered behind us, fighting for third place. But it’s always been me and Lola at the front. Two apex predators, neither willing to give an inch.

I feel the ache in my muscles, the lingering stiffness from hours in the Viper. But here, in this moment, none of that matters. The world’s narrowed down to just us, this track, and the primal thrill of the race.

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