AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I watched as my pit crew launched into action, hoping no one made any mistakes that might cost me the race, and as Holt, who was the tire carrier on my team, got to work. I glanced casually over my shoulder to make sure my blind spot was clear just as Jones Matthew’s car came sliding down pit road.
It all seemed to happen in slow motion. I could see that Jones’s brakes were locked up on his car, but what I didn’t expect was for him to hit my brother. I immediately saw red. I wanted to murder him. I wanted to break every single bone in Jones’s body as his car make contact with Holt. My stepbrother went down like a sack of potatoes.
“Go! Go! Go!” Miles screamed in my ear, and I had no choice but to stomp on the gas to get the hell back onto the track without a second thought.
I gripped the wheel with one hand, shifted the car into gear with the other, and gritted my teeth so hard I was surprised they didn’t snap in half.
“Is Holt okay?” I asked. Please, please, please, don’t let him be hurt.
He didn’t deserve this. He was such a good person. The funny, nerdy, smart, cute... No, wait, not that last part. My brain was getting all fucked up because I was so worried about him.
“Worry about the race. You’re on track to win this thing. Keep your head in the game. You need this to stay in the chase,” Miles ordered.
“Is he fucking okay?” I growled. I would knock Jones Matthews into next week if he hurt my stepbrother. That kid would never hurt a fly, and as I relieved that moment over and over in my mind, I felt nauseous. Our parents were watching. They watched every race. His dad was probably beside himself, my mother crying, and if he ended up in the hospital, I would do so much worse to Jones. That cocky prick.
Miles let out a low sigh. “He’s being checked over at the care center, but he was alert and talking, Watts. You have to worry about the race first and your brother second. You know this shit happens. It comes with the job.”
It was on the tip of my tongue to remind him that Holt was my family, so he would always come first, but instead, I gritted my teeth. “You tell Jones I’m coming for him,” I warned.
“Not on the track.”
“Oh, fuck yes, on the track.”
“Watts,” Miles growled. “NASCAR will fucking fine you if you use your car as a weapon. Do not make me remind you again.” He sounded more upset than I was.
He had a point with that. I’d already lost enough points this season running my mouth when I shouldn’t. NASCAR might park my ass for a race if I did something that stupid. I wasn’t known for my brains, though.
I didn‘t say anything else as I passed cars to take back the lead. In fact, I didn‘t say another word until I crossed the finish line with the checkered flag waving in the air. Then I stopped my car, climbed out, and ran across the track toward my crew to celebrate, because if I didn’t, I was going to hurt someone. That someone being Jones Matthews. I skidded to a stop when I saw Holt standing there, and then I crushed him against me in a tight hug. I knew the cameras were getting all of this, but I didn’t care. The fans knew Holt was my brother.
“You’re okay,” I yelled so he could hear me with his helmet on and over the noise of the crowd.
He nodded. “You think a car is going to take me out? Please. I’m tough as nails.” Holt chuckled as I pulled back to smack at his helmet. “You were worried. Aw, you really care about me.” I watched his hazel crinkle up, which told me he was smiling. Things between us had been strange lately. I wasn’t sure what had been causing it, but I was going to take this as a sign that they might be getting better.
“All I saw was that car hitting you, H, and I thought you were hurt or worse. So yes, I was worried,” I confessed. Holt’s eyes flickered behind me, and I turned to see Jones headed our way, his hand digging through his hair. “No.” I grunted and turned to face him, blocking his view of Holt in the process. “Don’t you think you’ve done enough?” I hissed.
Jones held out his hands. “Watts, I just wanted to check on Holt; make sure he was all right. You don’t think I did that on purpose, do you? Because I would never. It was an accident.”
I took a step forward. “Fuck off.” I clenched my teeth and balled my hands into fists at my side to keep from knocking him out.
“Watson, it’s okay. It was an accident,” Holt repeated Jones’s words. “You need to go celebrate your win. Why are you standing around with me, huh?” He nudged my shoulder with his slim hand.
I narrowed my eyes at Jones before I turned back to Holt to give him another quick hug. Then I ran back up the track to get back into my car and started burning rubbing into the asphalt. But on repeat in my mind was the way Holt went down when the car hit him. Over and over. I had to get rid of that image. The best way to do that would be lots and lots of booze.
***
Holt and I were instant best friends when we met. He was this shy, geeky teen who was obsessed with comic books and superhero movies, while I was this kid racing cars before he had a valid driver’s license, getting his hands dirty fixing said cars, and obsessing over NASCAR every weekend. When I found out my soon-to-be stepbrother didn’t even watch NASCAR, I made it my mission to educate Holt on the sport while he schooled me on his favorite things.
I stuck up for him at school and beat up anyone who dared looked at or said anything negative or derogatory about Holt. Holt made me laugh, pushed me to be a better person, and helped me become the racecar driver I was today. When I the negative, he was the positive. I might not have graduated high school if it weren’t for Holt. He helped me study, made sure I completed all my assignments, and maybe, just maybe, might have written a paper or two for me. Smarts were not my thing. That was all Holt.
When I started racing in trucks, I got him a job on my racing team as a tire carrier. I told them we were a pair. They wanted me, they had to take him, and they agreed. Same when I moved up to Xfinity, then to Cup. Holt never complained, and I was never without my best friend by my side. He was always smiling, happy, and cracking jokes. He helped settle me.
When I was younger, I used to have major anxiety in the car when I won, and on more than one occasion, I had ended up throwing up all over myself. It hadn’t happened in a long time, but I knew it was because of Holt. He helped calm me. That’s why I had to have him with me while I was racing, or I wasn’t sure I would be able to pursue my dreams.
After we left the track and did all the post-race nonsense of interviews and photos, I invited everyone out to the closet bar. That’s where we currently were. I bought round after round of booze until I couldn’t see straight. Everyone in the place was laughing, having a great time, and me? Well, I was trying. Trying to pretend I was enjoying myself when all I wanted to do was go find Jones and smash my fist right through his face. What if Holt had been really hurt, seriously fucking hurt? What would I have done without him? He was... Hell, he was everything to me.
I turned to look at Holt, who was sitting to my right, and when he gave me that crooked smile of his, I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. Did he ever think about kissing me or touching me? I had been with dudes before—sex was sex, after all—and suddenly my cock was interested. I was so drunk right now.
I slipped out of the booth to go outside, mumbling about needing some fresh air. I wasn’t thinking clearly tonight. I needed to go back to the RV and get a decent night’s sleep, then everything would go back to normal, and I wouldn’t keep thinking about being with my stepbrother.
