But, God, I missed feeling good about myself. Missed the simplicity of life. It shouldn’t be so hard.

  Loosing a heavy sigh, I closed the door. Going to the car show with Z and my brother wouldn’t draw attention. And things with Xavier, well, I liked the warm feeling in my chest with him, but I was still scared…just wanted to dip my toe in the water.

  Grabbing a pair of jeans from the bottom drawer of my ivory-colored dresser, I tugged them up, then pulled on a gray U of E hoodie.

  I snatched some socks, then plunked myself onto the edge of my mattress and the frilly pink monstrosity of my bedspread. After Zoya and I’d gone tipsy thrifting three years before—back when I used to drink—she’d bought an electric-green shag rug that looked straight out of a seventies porn movie, and I’d bought the frilly wonder. The thing was uglier than sin, but it reminded me of freedom and fun, so I’d kept it.

  Taking out my makeup, I highlighted the bronze tone of my eyes, did a subtle contour of my features, a soft blush on the cheeks and a hint of color on my lips. Subtle, but enough to draw a rally driver’s eye. I hoped.

  A knock sounded at the front entrance.

  I frowned and called to Zoya. “You waiting for someone?”

  “Nope,” she replied, her voice muffled through the bathroom door.

  My throat tightened. Worrying my cheek between my teeth, I softly padded through the apartment so whoever it was wouldn’t hear me approach, then peered out the peephole to the corridor beyond our apartment.

  Christian stood on the other side, casual in his black puff jacket as he dragged a hand through his blond hair. I exhaled heavily, unlatched the chain lock and the dead bolt, then pulled the door wide.

  “Hey.” I smiled, throat tightening. “How’d you get in?”

  “I squeezed past while another couple was leaving.”

  Great security feature. “What are you doing here?”

  “You’re wearing jeans,” he said, taking me in. “And makeup.”

  I glanced down, trying to hide the blush that stole across my face. “Uh, yeah.” Was it that much of a standout? Crap! Maybe I shouldn’t—

  “You free?”

  I drew my head back.

  The bathroom door popped open, steam spilling out from Zoya’s shower. Her hair was wrapped in a towel, and her bathrobe was pulled tight around her. Her eyes slid from me to Christian, her mouth tugging down at the corner before she took a hard right and veered into her room.

  I brushed my hair back over my shoulder. “We’re, um. We’re headed out.”

  His brows furrowed, shoulders tensing. “Oh?”

  Christian’s shock wasn’t a surprise. It wasn’t like I had a budding social life—or any life, for that matter. But the silence was awkward and for some reason, I felt compelled to fill it. “Yeah, Xavier invited us all to the car show.”

  “Xavier.” His mouth thinned. “That guy from the hospital?”

  “Yes, him.” I wrapped the hoodie’s drawstring around my finger. What was with the tone? As if he didn’t like it or didn’t understand, which I guessed made sense, considering my…everything. “Did you need something?”

  He shifted his weight left to right, and back again. “I hoped we could hang out.”

  My heart skipped a beat. “Where’s Chloe?”

  He shrugged and looked away, dragging a hand through his hair.

  Was that an “I don’t know”? Or an “I don’t care”? Christian wasn’t the cheating kind, so I could only assume their on-again, off-again thing was off. Again.

  I bit my lip and shook my head. I couldn’t cancel on Xavier. Nor did I want to. I took a step back. “I’m really sorry, Christian. I’ve gotta finish getting ready.”

  He shot his hand out, holding the door. “You don’t know this guy, R.J.” He leaned in, narrowing the gap between us. “He could be trouble.”

  I swallowed hard, my pulse pounding inside my ears.

  Zoya’s scowling face darted out of her door, a blatant what an absolute ass expression painting her face.

  Christian rubbed his chin hard. “I should probably tag along.”

  Worrying the inside of my cheek, I told him, “I don’t have enough tickets.” Sure, I could text Xavier and ask for more, but it just felt—

  “It’s cool. I’ll cover my own.”

  Pressure built along my ribs. I pulled that drawstring so taut, my finger turned purple. I wanted to tell him it was fine, that I was fine, but my tongue froze right alongside my brain, which meant that nothing came out.

  His gaze dropped, glancing down at himself. “When are you leaving?”

  Say something, Ryah. Say something!

  I twisted my wrist and tugged up my sleeve to check the time, hating myself for my cowardice. “In, um…in an hour. I told him we’d be there around two.”

  The grin he offered was sheer triumph. “I’ve just gotta run home for a minute. I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Yeah.” I fought not to smack myself in the face. “Sure.”

  His smile was bright when he left. I closed the door with a soft click, then turned the dead bolt and slid the chain lock back into place. Should—should I have done that?

  Zoya stomped out of her room, fully dressed, with her damp dark hair spilling down her shoulders. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

  Guess I had my answer. “He invited himself.” I threw my hands up. “What was I supposed to say?”

  “No. You were supposed to say no.” She shook her head. “When Xavier said ‘take whoever you want,’ I doubt your ex was who he had in mind.”

  My teeth ground. “It’s not a date, Z.”

  “No, and it never will be if your baggage keeps showing up.”

  I scoffed. “My baggage?”

  She dropped her hands onto her hips while the ever-deepening frown she offered me screamed, “Girl, please.”

  Fine. Maybe Christian was my baggage. For some reason I was still yet to suss out, Xavier didn’t scare me, but Christian, he was familiar. Going to the car show was a step outside my norm. Having him there couldn’t hurt.

  God, I hoped.

  Chapter Eight

  Xavier

  I tugged the zipper up the chest of my driving suit. The thing was light, custom fit and made of Nomex, a fire-retardant material to keep us from burnin’ up when we raced—or crashed. The team’s name and logo stretched across my back, and it looked damn good, its crisp black a standout.

  The Civic Centre was packed. The rumble of engines and buzz of voices filled the place, echoing off the rafters a hundred feet overhead. Our car sat on a purple velvet platform, set above everything else. Lights angled up, showing off the sleek lines. Alec and I stood beside it, taking pictures with fans, and answering questions. It was strange; people looking at me like I was someone who mattered.

  I checked my phone. Ryah might be here soon. Shit, I hoped she was.

  Trina’s heels clacked when she sashayed over, her pink dress tight, little and way too much. A camera crew trailed twenty feet behind her, the red Edgewater Sports Network logo on their lanyards.

  “Alec, Xavier,” she said. “ESN has requested an interview.”

  Straightening, I grinned.

  Trina might’ve been a lot, but I couldn’t deny, she was good at gettin’ us attention.

  The questions were rapid-fire: What’s your favorite track? Favorite car? Drivers who inspired you? Goals? Training regimen? Are you excited for your first race in the WRC?

  Alec and I took turns answering. It sounded good and felt weird as hell.

  “And last question,” the interviewer said. “What’s the top skill needed for a race car driver?”

  That one was easy. “Stayin’ calm. There’s no room for panic. When stuff happens, your head’s gotta be clear.”

  The guy clicked the mic off. “Great job!”

  With that, they left, and Trina followed while something pulled my focus. My stare pushed through the crowd until it landed on her—the prettiest woman in the building. In the goddamn city. Country. Christ, ever!

  Ryah walked toward me, those copper eyes bright when they locked with mine, cheeks turning a wicked shade of pink the longer I held her gaze. She tugged the sleeves of her hoodie, her head tilting down as she smiled at me through her lashes.

  I dragged in a deep breath and flicked my arm out, thumping Alec’s chest with the back of my hand. “Cover for me for a bit?”

  He followed my line of sight. “Go. I’ve got this.”

  Clearing my throat, my booted feet pounded against the diamond tread of the steel steps as I headed for ground level, then aimed for my dream girl. Zoya and Miles walked on her one side—my gut dropped—and that blond-haired preppy guy on her other.

  Was he a friend? More? Ryah’d only asked for three tickets. Was he the invite? Or the tagalong?

  His hair was styled to the side. He wore an expensive gray wool coat and black dress shoes. He stood out, the tight set of his shoulders and downturn of his mouth making it clear what he thought of me.

  Big-feelin’ prick.

  I took a steadying breath, ’cause something more important walked my way. “Hey, darlin’.”

  Preppy boy tensed.

  “Hey,” Ryah said, then smiled just for me and it felt good. A drug. I wanted more, needed it.

  I gave Zoya a nod before I turned to Ryah’s brother and stuck my fist out. “Miles.”

  He bumped it. “Hey, man.” He gestured at my suit. “The new gear’s wicked!”

  “Thanks.” I peered down and flicked the patch over my right pec. “Signed a new sponsor.”

  “I’m not surprised. You guys are killing it!”

  My lips tugged up and I glanced at my dream girl.

  She pointed to blondie. “Xavier, this is Christian.”

  Damn, I loved my name on her tongue. Would’ve loved it better if it wasn’t followed by his, but I’d take what I could get.

  “Christian,” I said, and was about to offer a shake but he shoved his hands in his pockets like he was above it all.

  I forced back the dark laugh that tried to tear its way out. Whether they were a thing or not, he either wanted her, or didn’t want anyone else to have her. I hated the guy on fuckin’ principle.

  Chucking my chin Ryah’s way, I asked, “How ya feelin’?”

  “Good.” She trailed a hand over her ribs. “Barely hurts anymore.”

  “That campus security guy follow up about what happened?”

  “Yeah, but it’s fine. I’m not gonna pursue it.”

  I frowned. “You’re too nice.”

  Zoya threw her hands up. “That’s what I said!”

  “R.J. can decide for herself,” Christian added.

  R.J.?

  Ryah shrugged. “I just don’t want the trouble.”

  Somethin’ about the words hit different, like she’d meant them for another reason. I wanted to push, but the creases around her eyes held me back. If she didn’t wanna talk about it, I wasn’t in a place to make her.

  “So.” I gestured around. “What d’ya think?”

  “This is something,” she said, her expression eager as she took the place in. “Have you always been into cars?”

  Eager was good. I could work with that. “Pretty much, yeah.”

  “What made you start racing?” Zoya asked.

  Driving? That was another story. But racing… “I was offered a chance.” A damn good one I hadn’t been about to turn down.

  Ryah tilted her head like she’d picked up that I’d left a hell of a lot out. She tugged the string on her hood. “Why rally?”

  Good question, dream girl. That answer was tough, though, and not one I wanted to dive deep on with an audience. “I needed the challenge.”

  Again, her brow furrowed like she caught the nuance. Needed. Not wanted.

  “You plan to do this forever?” Christian asked.

  The question was fine, but the condescending tone had my jaw working. “This ain’t a forever thing.”

  “So, no long-term career goals, then?” A comment pretending to be a question.

  “Christian!” Ryah scolded while Miles and Zoya mean-mugged the guy.

  “What? I’m just asking.”

  People could think what they wanted about me. Did I want respect? Yeah. I couldn’t give a shit about his, but overall, who didn’t? And I’d be damned if a slick prick like him would make me feel some kinda way about my life. I squared myself to him. “Win. That’s my goal. Get to the top of the WRC, then buy a team.” I cocked my head and gave him a “watch yourself” smirk. “That good enough for you?”

  He lifted a shoulder and looked away.

  Fuckin’. Dick.

  Zoya squeaked and pointed across the way. “Is that a bathroom?”

  I glanced over my shoulder. “Sure is.”

  “I drank my weight in coffee before we came.” She grabbed Ryah’s wrist. “Come with me, please,” she said, draggin’ my girl away before she could say a word.

  “I’ll keep you company,” Christian mumbled and caught up to them.

  His arm touched Ryah’s as he moved. My gut hardened and I stretched my neck to cover my irritation.

  It didn’t work.

  The girls slipped into the washroom while preppy boy waited outside. He pulled out his phone and started typing.

  “Christian was at the hospital,” I said to Miles.

  “Yeah,” he replied, tone flat.

  I propped a hip against the platform and crossed my feet at the ankles. “He someone I should know about?”

  His mouth pulled to the side, and he took a bottle of water from his pocket. “They’ve known each other since high school. Dated on and off for a bit a couple of years ago. They TA together at the university. He’d been seeing someone else but I’m not sure where that sits now.”

  Dammit. “Ryah doesn’t talk about any of it?”

  He shook his head. “Not anymore.”

  “Any reason?”

  “Dunno.” He popped the top on his drink. “She keeps to herself a lot these days. It’s been a minute since she was out like this.”

  My head cocked his way. The girl was gorgeous, smart and had a wicked tongue. She was a goddamn catch. She should’ve been living it up. What the hell would keep her home? “You shittin’ me?”

  “Nope.” He took a swig of his water. “Not my place to talk about it, but she’s been through some stuff, man.”

  The kind of stuff that just happened? Or the kind of stuff that was done to her? The girls headed back our way, Christian on their tail. My eyes tracked Ryah’s. Someone hurt you, darlin’?

  “Either way, I’m pretty sure she’d tell me if they were a thing, so my guess is she’s single. Why?” Miles smirked. “You interested?”

  I straightened and kept my tone easy. “Be a problem if I was?”

  He tipped his bottle my way. “Don’t turn out to be an ass and you’re golden.”

  Good answer. “Can do, brother.”

  Zoya nudged Ryah and said something to her. Biting her lip, Ryah came my way. Christian followed her with his stare, a frown creasing his brow.

  “You two look like you’re up to no good,” she said.

  I patted the stage beside me. “Just waitin’ for you.”

  Christian’s nostrils flared.

  A familiar face sauntered toward us, paper bag in hand. “Hey, stranger!”

  “Hey!” I turned to my dream girl. “Ryah, this is Alec’s fiancée, Sheila.”

  Sheila grinned. “So, you’re the one he’s been talking about.”

  Ryah froze.

  Fuck me. Sweat crept along my spine when my attention flicked to Alec and screamed, “Get your girl before she chases mine off.”

  His mouth arced up like he considered letting me suffer before he turned to Sheila and put me outta my misery. “You got something for me?”

  She rattled the bag. “Lunch.”

  He rubbed his hands together. “Knew I hitched myself to you for a reason.” He snickered. “Now bring me my food!”

  “Excuse me,” Sheila said to the group as a whole. “I’m apparently needed.”

  I breathed deep to ease the burn inside my rib cage, ’cause I wanted that. Wanted what they had. The family I was missing.

  Ryah tugged her hands into her sleeves and cleared her throat. “So, that’s your car?”

  Smooth, darlin’. My focus shifted to her. “That’s her. You wanna see?”

  Her smile widened. “I’d love to.”

  I straightened, my chest expanding as I stood taller and waved for them to follow. “Come on, I’ll get you closer.”

  “The stage looks a little crowded.” Miles clapped me on the shoulder. “You take Ry.” He eyed Christian. “The rest of us can wait here.”

  I owed the guy a beer. Or a fuckin’ kidney.

  Giving him a nod, I held the velvet rope for Ryah.

  Her gaze narrowed. “Am I allowed back here?”

  I gave her a wink before she blushed and ducked under.

  Her jeans fit her legs real good. They looked comfortable but still managed to show off some of what she hid underneath. Not that she needed to. A douchebag skulked by, stare-skimming her body. He tugged his hair back in a ponytail as he took his fill, angling to the side like he was trying to catch a look at her ass. My jaw ticked, rough hands creaking when they clenched into fists. His attention darted to mine, and he must’ve picked up on the threat in my glare ’cause he fucked all the way off when he disappeared into the crowd.

  Stopping, I offered her my hand. She eyed it, gaze softening before she set hers in mine. And, Christ, it felt good. Warm, and silky. Fuckin’ perfect.

  I climbed the steps, taking her with me. Alec eyed us and his brows shot up. Yeah, yeah. I was protective as shit over the vehicle. People liked to grab stuff or push buttons. But I wanted Ryah to see what I did. To see her reaction. Get her thoughts.

  “What do ya think, darlin’?” I asked.

  “She’s a pretty little hot hatch.”

  My eyes went wide.

  Her expression eased—calmed—before a full-beam smile broke across her lips. The sight of it nearly knocked me on my ass. A man could kill for a girl like that. Educated. Beautiful. Outta my league in every way. Regardless, she was standin’ there with me, so I wasn’t complaining.