Page 39 of Broken Track
Ashley doesn’t argue. She nods, understanding. I watch her leave our dorm, leaving me alone with my thoughts, regrets, and heartache.
I look down at the phone again. Part of me wants to call him. Part of me wants to pretend nothing ever happened. But I don’t know if I can handle what I’ll hear if I do. Does he have a little girl now? Or a boy with his rugged looks? Is he still with that girl from the track? Are they happy?
I look out the window, feeling the emptiness creep in again. The same emptiness I’ve been trying to escape for months. The same emptiness only Xavier used to fill.
And I’m left wondering, what if I never get the chance to make it right?
I swallow hard, deciding not to reach for the phone. Not yet. I also know I can’t run forever.
Chapter Twenty-One
Xavier
It’s been two years. Two years since I made the trip to LA. Two years since I let her walk away from me once more.
The roar of the engine drowns out everything else. The voices, the doubt, the memories I can’t outrun. It’s me and the car, tires spinning on packed dirt, dust flying up in thick clouds behind me.
I push harder, white-knuckling the wheel as I take the turn too fast, my back end fishtailing before I catch it. The entire world tilts for a second, the rush of control and chaos mixing in my veins like a drug.
Racing is the only thing that makes sense anymore. Everything else is static.
I slam on the gas coming out of the curve, pushing the car faster down the straightaway. The crowd is nothing but a blur beyond the fences. Somewhere in the mess of headlights and dust, people are yelling, betting, drinking. But I don’t care about any of it. Not the money. Not the bragging rights. Not the adrenaline spike that used to feel like everything. None of it fills the hole Izzy left.
I downshift hard into the last corner, sliding sideways, and for a split second I almost lose it. I almost send myself straightinto the wall. But I don’t. Even at my lowest, the things Izzy taught me are muscle memory, and I’m not that reckless.
I cross the finish line first, not that it matters.
By the time I cut the engine and climb out, the air is thick with exhaust and cigarette smoke, and headlights cut through the haze. Someone slaps me on the back, some guy I barely register, saying something about the race, but I don’t respond.
I remove my helmet and wipe the sweat from my forehead with my sleeve, breathing deeply. My hands are still shaking, but not from fear. From emptiness.
“Nice run, Xavier,” Nolan calls, walking over. He’s grinning, holding out a beer, but his eyes flicker with something else, concern, maybe frustration. “Hell of a save on that last turn.”
I shake my head, not in the mood for small talk. “Didn’t feel like a win.”
He frowns. “What does?” I don’t answer. Because I don’t know.
I end up at Mia’s place an hour later, still smelling of oil and dirt, sitting on her couch as she gives me that look.
“Okay,” she says finally, leaning back in the chair across from me. “Talk.”
I stare at my hands. “There’s nothing to talk about.”
She sighs, exasperated. “Xavier, I swear to God.”
“I heard her name tonight.” The words come out rougher than I intend.
Mia stops. The tension shifts. “Izzy?”
I nod. She waits, letting me find the words.
“Some guy at the track mentioned her. Casual, like it was nothing. Just a throwaway comment about how she used to be around and how she’s still in Cali.” Like it doesn’t gut me every damn time.
Mia watches me carefully. “And?”
“And nothing.” I exhale sharply. “She left. She didn’t look back. She’s doing fine without me.”
Mia scoffs. “Are you?”
