Page 185 of First in Line

“Mr. Reyes!” several people call from behind her.

We both look to find a flock of journalists coming our way. “Fucking hell,” I mutter under my breath.

“Go!” Justine urges. “I’ll make some bullshit statement to hold them back. Go make your phone call, Jackson.”

“Thank you. I owe you one.”

“This one’s on the house,” she answers with a wink.

Trusting that she can handle the journalists, which is her job after all, I resume my hurried walk toward the Altron motorhome. Several people try to stop me on my way there for pictures and autographs, but I ignore them, keeping my eyes forward.

Even when I enter the Altron hospitality, I ignore Wesley, who tries to get my attention. “Jackson, perfect! There’s someone for you in—”

“Not now,” I let out.

I enter the small staircase and climb the steps three by three. There’s a private section that only a few of us get to access, which is where my room is. It’ll be perfect for the phone call.

Fuck, Evie’s going to be so mad at me. She’ll have to endure headlines, scrutiny, and harassment. Maybe even more than last time. And she might have to change her phone number again.

I enter the code on the digital lock and enter the private section. Ten more seconds and I’m at the door branded Jackson Reyes. I grab my phone as I step in, building up the courage to call her. If she was watching the press conference live, she’ll already know I fucked up. But something tells me she’s trying to stay away from all this, so she might still be unaware.

I’m just finding her in my contact list when I notice I’m not alone in the room. Surprised, I look up. When my eyes meet a pair of hazel ones, shock expels the air straight out of my lungs. What the—

What is she doing here? How?!

Amused by my stupor, Evie smiles softly and murmurs, “Hi, Hot Wheels.”

And I’m so fucking shaken, I can’t think of a single thing to answer.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-THREE

Evangeline

“Are you sure she’ll be alright?” I ask, looking back at Yasmine walking away.

“She has cash and a city full of casinos. She’ll be perfectly fine, and she’ll make some money at the poker table.”

The race ended long enough ago that most of the attendees have filtered out. We watched Jackson cross the finish line from an amazing position. I’ve finally decided to put the divorce money to good use and bought a weekend ticket that matched Cynthia’s and her wife’s. I’m not sure if Jax paid the full price for them or if he gets such things for free, but Jesus, what a gift to give to a stranger.

What I couldn’t get, though, was paddock access. Those were sold out.

Nervousness has me a little tense as we walk toward the paddock entrance, where two people are guarding it fiercely. We couldn’t come earlier because of the overactive rush between the race and the podium ceremony. But hopefully, I’ll be there on time to see Jackson before he heads off to whatever party he plans on attending tonight.

We offer the security guards a small smile as we tap the card attached to our lanyard. The name Yasmine appears on the screen on my side, but the men don’t question it. Too bad, I had a whole excuse about having hippie parents lined up.

We stop at a stand that has the paddock plans, and Cyn points in a direction. “The Altron hospitality suite is over there.” I nod, and we walk toward the motorhome.

“Are you ready?” she asks as we close in.

“I’m not sure.” I’m definitely anxious, my chest is all tight.

“What are you scared of?”

“That he’ll be mad at me, which he has every right to be. That I’m too late, and he’s realized I’m not worth the hassle. That I’ll chicken out at the last moment because of my worries.”

“I’m sure it isn’t too late. He’s waited eight years before. What’s eleven weeks?”