Page 20 of Crash Course

“Everyone’s heard,” Theo says.

“How will he be replaced?” I ask.

Parker’s smile flickers. “That’s what your father is discussing with the board.”

Our father could pluck a driver from any other team, drop a lucrative contract at the most successful team in the sport.

Or he could decide it’s my time.

I’m twenty-two. I have the super license I need to race.

Still…before the firing, I figured we had another season, possibly two, before there would be a job opening on the family team. Now, it looks like the timeline is moving up.

Adrenaline surges through me, possibility chased with determination.

I’ve wanted to drive my entire life. Luca knows it. I’m faster than Theo, sharper, more mature.

And I’m ready.

“I’ll drive,” Theo decides as we head to the garage.

“No.” I hit the power button on the garage door and it lifts, revealing the Porsche.

“It’s my birthday.”

“And you can do whatever the fuck you want after media.”

I shift into the car and start the engine. The hairs on my neck lift.

Theo’s jabbering on about something. “Jamie, are you even listening?!”

No, I’m listening to my car. It’s talking more than normal. Whispering something I can’t quite hear.

I shake it off and drive the route from memory.

My shoulders knot as we pass the spot on the road where we had that showdown. Theo doesn’t comment on my route, or the girl we hit.

We.

Because we can argue behind closed doors, but in public, one Ashford stands for all of us. Twenty-first-century goddamned Musketeers.

Theo had to walk her to campus. Because, as my luck would have it, she goes to the academy too.

“She’s something else.” Theo pulls out his phone as we reach the end of the street. I glance over to see the name New Girl at the top of a text chain.

She made an impression on my brother. I knew it the moment he helped her up, how he smiled at her in class while she eviscerated me, the way he grabbed on to her at the party.

“A stray dog,” I reply.

It took more effort than usual to scare her off.

“This time, you’re wrong.” He shoots me side-eye. “You don’t think she’s hot?”

Flashbacks of the party hit me. Her defiant eyes, pointy nose, and full mouth. The messy hair falling past her shoulders and the all-black clothing clinging to her slow curves.

She didn’t want to switch bikes, but then surprised me by not only hanging on but leaning in. I remember the feel of her thighs against mine, the weight of her body pressed to my back.

You wouldn’t know a happy ending if it ran you over in a Porsche. Her words replay in my mind. So does the way she lifted her stubborn chin, the rebelliousness as she refused to look away.