Page 46 of Trip

I stood there, my breath coming in short, sharp rasps as the reality of my situation sunk in. The air in the garage seemed to thicken with my anger and frustration. I knew they were right, that their concern was genuine, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept. My gaze fell on the engine, its inner workings exposed and vulnerable, a reflection of how I felt in that moment.

Trip’s voice cut through the tense silence, his tone quiet but intense. “I know this is hard to accept, C.C. I get it. But I’m not trying to take your spot. I just want to keep you safe. I promise I’ll find out who’s behind this and put a stop to it. Then you’ll be back where you belong—in the driver’s seat, showing them all what you’re made of.” He took a step toward me, his eyes pleading for me to understand.

“How can I trust you?” I whispered, my voice laced with pain. “How do I know this isn’t some ploy to get me out of the way? To take what I’ve worked so hard for?” My gaze darted around the garage, taking in the determined faces of the Sons of Hell, my brother, and Ansel. “You all think I can’t handle this, that I need protecting. But I’m not some fragile doll that needs to be locked away for her own good. You know what? I can’t,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m done.”

And with those words, I left the garage and everything I ever dreamed about behind.

“Does Trip know you’re drinking alone in a bar?”

Slowly turning, I was about to say some snarky retort when I saw Crane slide onto the seat next to me. Lifting my beer to my lips, I muttered, “I don’t answer to him.”

“Does he know that?” Crane chuckled, motioning to the bartender for a beer. “Would have thought there would be weddin’ bells by now.”

“If you’re lookin’ to piss me off, Crane, keep talkin’.”

“So, why are you drinking alone?”

“Why do you care?”

“Come on, C.C., it’s me. Your good buddy Crane.”

“Whatever.”

“Let me guess. The golden boy sidelined you.”

Ignoring his comment, I waved my empty beer bottle at the bartender.

God, I really wasn’t in the mood for company, and I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about Trip or anything else. I only wanted to get drunk and forget about everything that happened at the track today. The bartender slid another beer my way, and I took a long swig, not taking my eyes off Crane. “What do you want, Crane?” I growled.

“Just lookin’ out for you, partner.” Crane took a sip of his beer, his eyes glinting with a mixture of resentment and jealousy. “We both know the golden boy always gets what he wants.”

I scowled into my beer, the events of the day playing out in my mind like a bad country song. I didn’t know what Trip did to Crane for the man to hate him so much, and I didn’t care.

Not my problem.

“Look, I don’t need your pity, Crane. And I sure as hell don’t need you lookin’ out for me. I can take care of myself, and I don’t give a damn what Trip thinks or does.” I glared at him, the beer doing little to ease the anger I felt.

Crane held up his hands in a defensive gesture and took a long swig of his beer. “Alright, alright, keep your damn pants on. I’m just sayin’, you don’t have to take this lyin’ down. We both know Trip’s got it comin’.”

I ran a hand through my hair, my frustration building. “What are you gettin’ at, Crane? Spit it out; I ain’t got time for your games.” I signaled for another beer, my mind racing with the possibilities of what Crane could be insinuating.

“We both know Trip’s been steppin’ on toes and takin’ what he wants from the beginning. Hell, girl, he killed his parents. All he had to do was walk away, but he couldn’t leave it alone.” Crane’s eyes narrowed, his voice low and dangerous.

“You’re talkin’ crazy, Crane.” I set my beer down, a sick feeling settling in my stomach. “Trip didn’t kill anyone. His parents’ accident had nothin’ to do with him.”

Crane leaned in, his eyes cold and hard. “You know damn well it was no accident.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog of alcohol and denial. “Where is your proof?”

Crane leaned back, a smirk played at the corners of his mouth. “Proof? You know I worked on that car. I know engines, C.C., and that engine was sound. There’s no way it should’ve blown like that unless someone tampered with it.” His eyes bored into mine, daring me to disagree. “Trip wanted that win, and he got it, no matter the cost. Ansel knew it too; had some big-time investor lined up to buy the schematics. Was gonna make bank and make us all rich. That’s why he told Trip to leave it alone.”

“Go away, Crane. You’re drunk. You’re not making any sense.”

Sliding from his seat, he sneered, “Knew you wouldn’t understand. You’re just like him. Gotta have that checkered flag.Funny thing about racing, C.C., there is always another driver waiting in the wings to take your place.”

“Is that a threat?”

Crane shrugged, his grin widening in a way that made my skin crawl. “Just a fact, sweetheart.” He grabbed his jacket and threw a few bills on the counter, the sound of crinkling paper loud in the tense silence. “But you go on pretendin’ you don’t see the truth. It’s what you’re best at, after all.”

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