We are a few chapters to the end of this book🥹 I'm missing them already, but watch out for Jagger and Jordan in my next book Live Again: My Divorce Lawyer's Love.
Carlo “Carlo… wake up.” A voice. Faint. Shaky. Somewhere in the dark. I groan, half-asleep. My arm is draped across Blaze’s waist. The sheets are tangled around us. His skin is warm under my palm. It’s still night outside, no light coming in through the curtains. Then I hear it again—only this time it’s not Blaze’s voice. It’s rough. Sharp. “Carlo Davenport. Get the fuck up.” I shoot up, blinking fast. The room’s full of men. Black suits. Guns. No fucking faces I know. “What the fuck—” I start to say, but one of them grabs me by the throat, shoving me back against the headboard. Blaze jerks awake, eyes wide. “Carlo?” “Don’t fucking move,” the man snarls. Another pair of hands yank Blaze off the bed. He fights—hard—but there’s too many of them. One of them backhands him across the mouth. Blood splatters. Blaze gasps, struggling against the arms holding him. “Let him go, you fucking bastards—!” I shout, thrashing, trying to get free. Another fist to my ribs. Pain shoots thro
Carlo"You shouldn’t have let me find you."That’s the first thing I say before I pull him in and kiss the hell out of him.It’s not soft. It’s not sweet. It’s messy. Angry. Fucking raw.His lips move against mine like he’s been starving too, like he’s just as wrecked inside as I am. I don’t even realize there’s a fucking mic picking this up until the announcer’s voice blares over the speakers.“Wait… isn’t that Carlo Davenport from the Steel Riders? Weren’t they rivals four years ago? How the hell did this become a goddamn romantic scene?”I hear the gasps. The shouting. The camera clicks.Fuck ‘em.I pull away just enough to breathe, his forehead pressed to mine, both of us panting like the world just flipped on its head. Because maybe it fucking did.Blaze blinks at me like he doesn’t believe what’s happening.“Helmet,” I say, turning to Alexi—who’s standing off to the side looking like she just watched someone drop a nuke on her day. “Let me borrow yours.”She hesitates for one se
Blaze"That was sick as hell, Blaze!" Alexi jumps off her bike, helmet under her arm, sweat on her brow. “You fucking smoked them!”I yank off my gloves, my heart still pounding from the last lap. My chest’s tight. Not from the ride—this part’s easy. It’s everything else that’s got me shaking.“It was a warm-up.” I mutter, pulling off my helmet and letting the air hit my face. “That wasn’t shit.”Alexi scoffs, stepping in front of me. “You just took first in a crowd full of maniacs who wanted to eat your legacy alive, and you’re standing here acting like it’s nothing?”“It is nothing,” I snap, tossing the helmet onto the seat. “Main race hasn’t started yet. That’s the one that counts.”She narrows her eyes, like she can see straight through the front I’m barely holding up. “Yeah? Then maybe you should stop looking like you're one second from falling apart.”I look away. Can’t argue with her. Don’t even have the strength to fake it.My fingers twitch. My jaw’s tight. I feel like a fuck
Carlo"Repeat it again, slower this time," Dad says, pinching the bridge of his nose like he’s already embarrassed by me.I clear my throat, grip the notecard like it's a goddamn lifeline, and try not to sound like I’m dying inside. “Rebecca... meeting you felt like fate... You’ve taught me that love is—”“No.” He cuts me off. “Stop there. You sound like a fucking hostage. This is a wedding, Carlo, not a boardroom announcement.”Rebecca laughs softly from across the room. That annoying, fake-ass little chuckle like she’s not living for every second of this. “It’s okay, Father. We’ll get it perfect before the ceremony.”'father'? He was Uncle to her before, when did she start calling him father. I want to punch a wall. Maybe throw myself into one instead.Instead, I force a smile and look down again. My fingers twitch. My phone is hidden under the notecard, resting against my leg. The screen lights up every few minutes with race coverage, muted but running. I watch it like I’m not watc
Blaze “Are you really gonna be quiet the whole damn morning?” Alexi throws a towel at me from across the kitchen, her voice sharp but familiar. I don’t answer. I just sit there, elbows on the counter, coffee untouched, stomach in knots. It’s too fucking early for her voice, too early for this kind of energy. My mind’s already doing laps around Route 419 and choking itself on every sharp corner. Alexi kicks a chair out and drops into it, her long legs sprawled, jaw tight, wearing one of her stupid cutoff hoodies that says Built Not Bought. She eyes me like she’s trying to read through my skin. “You haven’t said shit since last night.” “Nothing to say,” I mutter, keeping my eyes on the mug like it’s gonna offer some fucking answers. “You’re two hours out from the biggest race of your fucking life and you got nothing to say?” I shoot her a look. “You want a fucking monologue, Lex?” She rolls her eyes and leans back, arms folded. “No. I want you to stop acting like today doesn’t mat
Blaze“We all started racing and training together to help Blaze.”That’s what Alexi tells some random dude last night when we stopped at the gas station for energy drinks. I was halfway in my own head, helmet still on, but I caught that line. And weirdly, it stuck. Not because she said it out loud like we’re in some after-school special. But because it hit me. That it’s not just about getting back into racing. It’s about having people who give a shit. Who aren’t here to fuck me over or look at me like I’m broken merchandise.It’s been a week since the news dropped. Carlo and his porcelain Barbie. And yeah, I thought it’d haunt me longer. Thought it’d live under my skin for a while like all his other bullshit. But then Route 419 happened. The second Alexi said the name, something in my brain clicked. Like an old fuse reconnected and suddenly I could breathe again. That circuit was mine. Before everything fell apart. Before the crash, the limp, the ghost of who I used to be.So now we