AllFreeNovel
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Racing may be in our family’s blood, but the business side of it was always a passion that my dad and Tommy shared. Not me; I just wanted to race and not have to worry about the rules, or sponsors, or any number other than the one growing in my bank account.
After everything with Tommy, I agreed to race for Dad out of a sense of obligation. A Kane always raced for the family business, and I was the only one left. It didn’t matter that dad and I didn’t agree on much within the world of racing; I put all of that behind me and signed away my dreams for a greater purpose.
So, I thought.
I hate the lights and the reporters and the stats that seem to follow me everywhere I go. I just want to take a breath without someone speculating about what it may mean.
I need to just cut loose and not have to worry about how my actions may or may not affect the company.
I need to be back in my element, where I know I’ll dominate with ease.
I turn the corner and head toward Rush’s Autobody, where I know I’ll find Milo. He and I met when I first started racing and stupidly blew a head gasket on my T-bird. His old man owned the shop, but Milo was always around, helping when he could. There’s nothing that guy doesn’t know about cars, I swear.
I pull in across from one of the open bay doors and chuckle when I see Milo’s head pop up from behind the hood of a Chevelle SS 454. His wide grin instantly lifts my spirits. Good friends will do that.
“Hey asshole,” he yells from across the lot as he makes his way over.
“What’s up, dickhead?” I laugh and bring him in for a quick hug, slapping him on the back a few times.
He stands nearly six inches taller than me, with copper-colored skin and dark hair pulled back out of his face. According to my cousin, Madelyn, he’s mastered the art of the perfect messy-bun. Whatever that is supposed to mean. The girls always go crazy over the dude’s hair. I tried growing mine out like his when I was a teenager, but where his hair had body and messy waves, mine was thin and stick straight. Not a look for me.
“What brings you out my way? Those fancy mechanics not know their ass from a hole in the ground?” He laughs, his dark brown eyes glinting in the setting sun.
“Eh, they’re all right.” I shrug my shoulders.
A light breeze brushes over my arms as I stuff my hands in my pockets.
“Yeah, I bet,” he chuckles and slaps me on the back before hiking an arm around my neck and leading me toward the tall cinderblock building. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with that little outburst I saw on TV earlier, now, would it?”
I rub my hand over my mouth, scratching the scruff on my jaw.
“Well, I wouldn’t say it’s entirely to do with that, but it might be indirectly related.”
“Uh-huh,” Milo says, raising a thick eyebrow as he tongues the inside of his cheek in clear disbelief.
“I just needed to get away, man,” I sigh, walking past the Chevelle to the workbench beside a tall red tool chest, and lean against it.
“What, the fame too much for you, Bo?” Milo chuckles, but it’s cut short by my serious expression.
He holds his hands up and chuckles, “Okay, I’ll take that as a yes.”
I drag my hands through my hair a couple of times, thinking of how to put this in a way that doesn’t make me sound ungrateful.
“It’s… definitely not what I was expecting.”
“Not what you were expecting in a good way, or a bad way?” Milo asks, reaching back under the hood to finish his task.
“Both?”
Milo scoffs, shaking his head, obviously amused by this.
“What?”
“You. You never could just give a straight answer,” he says teasingly.
“Bullshit, yes I can.”
“Okay then, please, tell me what it is exactly that wasn’t what you were expecting.” Milo stands and faces me, pinching the socket of a torque wrench between his thumb and forefinger and spinning it mindlessly.
