I punched the wheel. Damn it. How would I fix this now?

Chapter Twenty-One

Ryan

My cell phone rang in the middle of the morning. I would have answered it, if it weren’t for Noah’s glare. Yeah, yeah, because of the storm, we were way behind schedule, and answering phones in the middle of work would only disrupt our current progress.

At lunchtime, everyone gathered in folding chairs in front of the main trailer. Jessica, Jason, Corinne, Luke, Lindsey, Ethan … everyone was here. Even Alan and his employees. Apparently, they would work here until tomorrow and go back to their office on Monday. As much as I missed the silence, I couldn’t argue that their help had been invaluable. What would have taken us maybe two months of hard work to recover would probably take less than a month now.

Jessica sat beside Sophie and Rachel. She had a sandwich in her hand, but she stared at the horizon, completely lost in her thoughts.

This morning, she only waved hi at me from a distance. Nothing else. Jason slapped the back of my head and asked me what the hell I did to make her withdraw into herself again.

I just shrugged, but he knew. Somehow, he knew, and he slapped me again for it.

Unfortunately, I didn’t know how to fix the situation. My only choice was to avoid being too close to her and everyone else. That was why I drove away from the site during lunchtime.

After passing through a Hardees’ drive thru, I parked my car under the shade of a big tree around the square, and finally reached for my phone.

A call from Ethan’s uncle. But why?

I didn’t waste time and I called him back.

John picked up on the second ring. “Ryan, hi.”

“Hey, John. Sorry I didn’t pick up your call. I was working.”

“I understand. How are things going?”

I opened my mouth to say they were the same, but it wasn’t true. Having Jessica here was wreaking havoc in my core, but the rest—everything she was doing—was great. “I’m doing better, I think.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“So, what can I help you with?”

“When does your parole end?”

“November.”

He tsked. “That’s a shame.”

“Why?”

“You know I have been training Luke for the Roebling Race in Georgia at the end of August. I was hoping you were free by then. Maybe we could try it again.”

The air rushed out of my lungs.

“Ryan? Are you there?”

“Y-yes.”

“If you aren’t free until November, then we’ll have to wait until the Homestead Miami race in December. After that, March. But we can train until then and—”

“Wait. Wait.” I took a long breath. “What are you saying?”

“If you finish your parole without any trouble, I think I can get you in the circuit again.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Why would I kid about that?”

“But … why now? What changed your mind?”

“Ryan, I always believed you were a good kid. What happened … it was a misfortune. You had everything to be someone, to make it big, but apparently, it wasn’t your time. You’re not too old to start again. I really believe you can.”

“Did Luke bother you about me?” I cursed under my breath. “I thought I had convinced the guys I wouldn’t ride again.”

John laughed. “No, not Luke. He does mention you sometimes, but it’s only about missing you riding with them. Someone else called me Monday. We talked for a long time. Since then, I’ve been researching you. Sorry, but I had to know how your records looked, if you would be allowed back in.”

“Who was it?”

“Jessica Hayes.”

My heart stopped for a long moment. “She did what?”

“I thought she had gone away.”

“She did, but she’s back for the summer.”

“Oh. Well, by the looks of it, she still cares about you. A lot, because she made a good case of how you deserved a second chance. Her arguments were so good, I couldn’t say no.”

I took a long breath. Fuck, one more thing Jessica had done for me. One more wrong she had righted. By the end of summer, I would be owing her my life.

“What now?”

“Now you be a good boy and finish your parole with outstanding behavior. Meanwhile, we’ll practice. I’ll call you again in a few days to set up details. Sound good?”

“It sure does.”

“Good. Take care, Ryan.”

I ended the call and stared at the phone.

***

Jessica

After the kiss on Wednesday, I shouldn’t have gone to Habitat for Humanity on Thursday. Being there with Ryan was painful.

So, when Friday came, I told Jason and Mama that I wasn’t feeling well and stayed home.

In the afternoon, I walked to the hospital and stayed in my father’s room for an hour or so. Mainly, I watched him sleep and sketched the details of the room, wondering if we would ever set things right between us before I left. Or before he died.

That night, I let Sophie and Rachel take me to a small bar downtown called The Pub, one block from Ryan’s apartment. At first I thought about declining their invitation, but knowing Ryan was working late again, I was sure he wouldn’t come. It would be a fun girls’ night out. I even dressed up a little, with a not-so-short-and-modest-cleavage black dress that hugged my body. I put on my three-inch black pumps, applied a little more makeup than I was used to, and blow-dried my hair until it was smooth and shiny down my back.

As I walked out of the house and to her car, Sophie whistled.

“Who are you and what have you done with our friend?” Rachel asked.

“What?” I slid in the backseat of Rachel’s car. “I’m tired of trying to dress down so I don’t catch unwanted attention. I’m leaving in less than two weeks, and I want to feel good. This is how I dress when I go out.”

“I approve,” Sophie said, turning to look at me. She wore a black skirt and a pink blouse.

Rachel sported cropped black leggings and a zebra stamped corset-like top. Good to know they had dressed up too.

Rachel was able to park one block from The Pub. The facade had changed a little since I had last been here, but the inside was the same. A large oval bar in the center, lots of stools around it, tables and chairs spread across the floor, a few booths along the walls, low lighting casting a shadowy glow, a rock ballad coming from speakers on the ceiling, and to the far left, pool and foosball tables.

The girls and I weaved our way to the back, saying hi to known faces, and sat at an empty table between the bar and the game tables. A waiter came and took our order: three beers and a large portion of French fries.

“Ready to go back to Cleveland?” Rachel asked.

I sighed. “I think so. Though Papa and I haven’t really talked yet.”

“How is he?” Sophie asked.

The waiter came back with our drinks. I waited until he was gone to answer.

“Not doing well. I stopped by the hospital this afternoon. He still sleeps most of the time, and the nurse told me that when he’s awake, he complains of pain.”

Rachel placed her hand on mine. “I’m so sorry.”

I slipped my hand from under hers, and held my beer. “It’s okay.” I took a long swallow and changed the subject. “You two ready to go back to classes?”

Sophie scrunched her nose. “Ugh, not really.”

“Why not?”

“Because she hates economics,” Rachel said.

“Wait, then why are you studying that?”

“Long story,” Sophie mumbled.

“Because her father wants to leave the company to her,” Rachel explained. “He has this detailed plan. In two years, she’ll graduate, then go for an MBA, work for him for another five years to make sure she knows everything, and then he’ll retire.”

Sophie tsked. “Not retire. He’ll be my consultant.”

Rachel snorted. “From the Bahamas, Hawaii, or Cancun.”

Sophie grunted. “Can we change the subject?”

Rachel looked over my head. “How about we talk about guys?”