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“I’m the first ‘special girl’ you’ve ever taken home?” I can’t lie; I love it.
“The very first.” Jake coughs and turns serious. “Pick up my phone. There’s something I want to show you. The code is 123456.”
I pick it up, and the security code works. “Seriously?”
“What? If hackers want to check out my search history, they’re welcome to do so. Anyway, open the email. It’s probably the top message.”
I do so and start reading. “To our family here atBP Racing, the following statement will be released to the media this afternoon.” I keep reading, and my heart sinks. “It’s official. BPR is done.”
“Officially ceases operations at the end of this season. It’ll be up on every sports news site by now if you want to look.”
I don’t. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs. “It will work out. The individual teams will follow their drivers, so they’ll be fine. I hope. It’s the office staff who are out of a job.”
“What about you?” I plug his phone into the charger. Some of my earlier excitement seeps away. “You’ll be able to stay until the end of the season?”
“I’m guaranteed a ride withTop Row Racingif I want it.” Jake reaches across the cab to take my hand.
My heart sinks.Top Rowis over three hours away. Jake won’t be expected at headquarters every day, but he’ll need to be there often enough that a daily commute isn’t practical either. “Perhaps you should accept.”
“That won’t happen,” he says with such finality my head jerks. “I’m not taking any offers, not from them or anyone. You’ll figure this out for me.”
“I have everything on my laptop and can show you later when you’re not driving. It can happen. You’ll need a manufacturing partner and some investment help, but otherwise, the numbers work.”
“Top Rowmight do it. We drive the same cars.”
Smaller teams don’t always have the capabilities to manufacture and build their own cars, so they arrange with the larger ones. Car manufacturers encourage this since it extends their brand and presence.
“So doesRivers Motorsports,” I say.
Jake smiles his cocky smile. “Hey Boone, can I borrow your garage for a few days? No big deal, right?”
He’s right, and I shouldn’t consider it. “Top Rowis well-respected. If you want to partner with them, I’ll make the deal happen with you. Moving isn’t fun, but we also have time to put that together.”
It’s not that far, but it is also far enough.
“I expected no different.”
We head west, driving through mountains and forests, and I lose myself in the pretty views.
“Hey, move closer to me,” Jake says, breaking the spell. “I want to put my arm around you.”
I do so and settle against him. “Five days until we break the news.”
We decided telling Boone at a track was a bad idea, so it will happen immediately after we return home from this weekend’s race.
26-Sarah
Jake’s family home surprises me, though there isn’t a particular reason why. It’s a simple ranch-style home with a brick front and forest-green trim. It’s unassuming, making it a challenge to imagine Jake living in it for half his life.
“Are you fascinated or disappointed?” he asks, and I detect an undercurrent of insecurity.
“I’m picturing you as a little boy playing on that swing set.” I point outside the front window, drawing his attention to the wooden set on the house’s northern side. However plain the house might be, the empty lot beside it isn’t. The yard is big enough for another pair of homes, a pool, a workshop, and even a vegetable garden.
“I built it when Josie was little. I never used it.”
“You built it?”
