Page 119 of Racing Hearts
We walk toward the building, and everything looks like it’s back to the way it was, like nothing happened, and I know Evan and Alice feel it as they stare up at the doors we ran through a week ago, scared and chased.
“It’s all the same,” Evan whispers before rolling his shoulders back. Pride fills me at his courage as he leads me up and inside to the very hallway where his friend died. His strength staggers me, and I know I need to be equally as strong for him. He lost someone important. You don’t just get over that, and he might be acting unaffected, but I know he’s hurting, and I’ll be right here for him the entire time.
There’s a crowd down the hallway, though, and Evan hesitates. “What?” He tugs me after him when I try to stop, but when I see Lally, I nod, and we push through.
Evan gasps, his eyes filling with tears as we stare at the wall. Tommy’s blood and body are gone, but in their place is a permanent reminder—a good one.
His name is scrawled in graffiti, alongside skateboards, flowers, and paint splatter, with candles and flowers placed before it. I wasn’t sure if it was going to be ready in time, but when Lally reached out about it, I knew I wanted to help in some way. I did the art, but she did everything else, and as I stare into Evan’s eyes, I know it was worth sneaking out during the night.
“Do you like it? Lally told me his favorite colors—” I’m cut off as he jumps into my arms, and I catch him.
“I love it,” he mumbles. “Thank you.”
“I’ve got you, pretty boy. You aren’t alone, remember? This way, when you come here, it will be a place to remember him, not just that night. We are turning the bad into good, aren’t we?”
He nods as he pulls away, then he pulls Lally into a hug, all of us looking back at the memorial for the man who saved my love’s life.
I pull the flowers from my bag and place them before the candles. “I didn’t get to say thank you, Tommy, for saving him that night. I couldn’t live without him. I would have died right alongside him. I know you did it because you loved Evan, but I wanted to thank you, and I promise I won’t let him blame himself. I’ll try to keep him in check as much as he lets anyone.” I crack a smile as I straighten some of the candles and pictures. “Thank you for being his family.”
Stepping back, I take Evan’s hand, and a while after everyone else has headed to class, we stand there until I drop his bag at his feet, kiss his cheek, and retreat, letting him stand with Lally and talk to Tommy.
When he’s done, I walk him to class. Ignoring the calls and whistles, I kiss him goodbye and promise to pick him up after.
It’s hard to walk away and leave him alone, but I manage it.
I hate being away from him for this long. I’ve gotten used to being at his side twenty-four seven and knowing he’s okay. Maybe I’m clingy, but I don’t care. I check my phone for the tenth time in the last two minutes. He hasn’t replied to my latest text, which might have been the twentieth this hour, but still.
“Will you chill out?” Sky calls, sprawled out on my couch, watching TV as I work on my car. I don’t know why he followed me here. I have a sneaking suspicion Evan asked him to, but he’s wearing out his welcome. I only like having Evan in my space.
“He didn’t reply,” I tell him.
“So whipped,” he retorts. “He’s fine. He’s at school. Focus on fixing your baby so I can have my car back.”
“Shouldn’t you be practicing?” I counter as I wipe my hands. It will take me a couple of weeks to fix it up for good, but it will be better than new. I understand cars better than I ever understood people, but luckily my boyfriend doesn’t seem to care, and neither does the little family I seem to have adopted—including this lazy asshole eating all my snacks.
He reaches for a packet, and I snatch it away as he raises his eyebrows. “They are Evan’s favorite. Eat something else.”
“Whipped.” He nods. “What’s the point in practicing? There aren’t any good competitors.”
I frown as he sighs and looks away. “I’m tired of street racing. I guess it lost its thrill after . . . Anyway, someone like me will never become a real racer. We both know that.”
“So what, you’re just giving up?” I scoff.
He shrugs. “Maybe, but I did put in a good word for you.”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I saw some ads for experienced mechanics and submitted your information.” My eyes widen, and he grins. “Before you get mad, Evan helped. He knew you wouldn’t do it alone. Hell, even your boss, that scary?—”
“Whistler,” I add.
“Yeah, him, he helped. He actually said, ‘Good, take the grumpy asshole. He’s better than this stinking job anyway.’” He arches his eyebrow. “Evan seems to think that means he likes you. You wanted a garage of your own, and you’ll get there someday, but for now . . .” He shrugs. “Something new can’t hurt.”
“Like anyone will want me. I have no qualifications,” I mutter as I head over to my car.
“But would you try if you were offered something?” he asks.
“Maybe,” I admit. “I guess I was a little stagnant before. I love racing and working at the garage, but something different might be good.”