Chapter 13

Jace:

Nothing sobered you up like a Florida morning. Not coffee. Not aspirin. Not greasy breakfast sandwiches. Just humid air thick enough to wear and a sunrise spilling gold across the river. I rolled the Camaro's windows down before I even backed out of the driveway. The morning wrapped around me instantly. Warm. Sticky. Salt lingering in the breeze from the bay. The river reflected ribbons of pink and orange as fishermen launched their boats from the public ramp a few hundred yards away. White egrets stalked the marsh grass, completely unbothered by the world waking up around them.

My head, on the other hand… Felt like someone had parked another Camaro inside it. Too many beers. Too many old files. Too many memories. I'd fallen asleep at the kitchen table sometime after midnight with police reports stuck to my arm and newspaper clippings scattered across the floor. Mom would've had a field day if she'd seen it. "Jace Maddox, you're twenty-seven, not seventeen." She'd be right. Didn't mean I'd listen. 

I rubbed my chest with one hand as I stopped at a red light. The ache hadn't gone away since last night. Calla's face kept flashing into my head. Then Camden's. Then the newspaper clippings. Round and round. Like I was stuck in the same damn corner. My stomach growled. "Yeah..." "Fuel first." For me. And the car.

Sally's Sea Stop looked exactly like it had when I was twelve. The faded turquoise paint. The hand-painted sign with a smiling cartoon seashell. The little white porch lined with wind chimes made from driftwood. And, of course… Hundreds of painted seashells. Every size. Every color. Flowers. Sea turtles. Sunsets. Little dolphins wearing sunglasses. Sally had painted them all. Always had. She claimed every shell had a personality. Nobody questioned her anymore. It was easier that way.

The little bell over the door jingled as I stepped inside. Cool air-conditioning hit me immediately. Thank God. The place smelled like coffee, sunscreen, and old wood. Behind the counter stood Sally herself. Gray curls tucked beneath a visor. Reading glasses hanging from a chain around her neck. She looked up. Blinking once. Then twice.

"...Well." Her smile spread slowly. "I'll be."

"Morning, Miss Sally."

She rounded the counter before I could react and wrapped me in a hug. "You came home."

"I did."

She stepped back, studying my face. "You look tired."

"I am."

"You eating enough?"

"I think so."

"You think?" She clicked her tongue. "That means no."

Some things never changed. She pointed toward the hot food case. "Breakfast sandwich."

"Yes, ma'am."

"And coffee."

"Also yes, ma'am."

She nodded approvingly. "See? You're already making better decisions."

"I haven't made one yet."

"You came in here."

"Fair."

While she rang everything up, I glanced toward the front display. Painted seashells covered every shelf. One caught my eye. A pale white shell painted with tiny pink flowers. My chest tightened. I remembered buying one almost exactly like it. Ten dollars. Saved from mowing lawns all summer. I'd handed it to a twelve-year-old Calla behind Camden's back. She'd rolled her eyes.

"This is dumb." Then she'd kept it. Girls were confusing. Still were.

"You staring at those shells like they owe you money?"

I looked back at Sally. "Just remembering."

She softened. "That's what they're for."

I paid. Grabbed my breakfast. Then headed back outside. The Camaro waited beside pump four. I popped the fuel door and slid my card into the reader. The pump clicked to life. The smell of gasoline mixed with the salty morning air. Comforting. Familiar.

A loud exhaust echoed through the parking lot. I glanced up. A bright blue Nissan 350Z rolled in beside me. Clean build. Aftermarket wheels. Definitely somebody's pride and joy. The driver climbed out. Young. Really young. Maybe seventeen. Ball cap backward. Trying very hard to look older than he was. He looked over. Froze.

"...No way."

I smiled politely. He looked at the Camaro. Then back at me. "You're Jace Maddox."

I sighed internally. "...Yeah."

"Dude." He laughed to himself.

"Dude." 

He practically jogged over. "I knew it was your car."

"You did?"

"I've watched videos of you forever."

I couldn't help laughing. "Forever?"

"I'm eighteen."

"That explains the definition."

He grinned. "I was like ten watching you and Camden race." His excitement was genuine. Almost contagious. "You guys were legends."

Legends. Funny word. Usually reserved for people who weren't around anymore.

"I appreciate that."

"Nah, seriously." He pointed toward the Camaro. "You made me wanna build my own car."

I looked over at the Nissan. "You built that?"

"With my uncle." He puffed up a little. "Every bolt."

"Looks good." 

His smile somehow got bigger. "You really think so?"

"I do."

He glanced toward the road. Then back at me. "So..." I already knew where this was going. "Wanna run?"

"There it is."

He laughed. "Just one pull."

"No."

"C'mon."

"No."

"I won't tell anybody."

I raised an eyebrow. "That's not how racing works."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I just..." He hesitated. "I always wanted to race you."

The words hit differently than I expected. Not because of the challenge. Because of what came next.

"When I was a kid..." He looked down at his car. "I used to watch you guys from my dad's truck. My old man worked at the port. We'd stop by after work." He smiled. "I remember thinking..." He shrugged awkwardly. "...that if somebody from Riverside could beat all those rich Eastside guys… Maybe I could too." 

Silence settled between us. "You and Camden..." He laughed quietly. "You made a lotta kids think they belonged."

I swallowed. God. Cam would've loved hearing that. The pump clicked. Finished. I put the nozzle back. "I appreciate you saying that."

"So..." He nodded toward the road again. "One race?"

I looked at him. Really looked at him. Young. Hopeful. Exactly who Camden and I used to be. "I don't race anymore."

His smile faded. "...Really?"

"Really."

"You scared you'll lose?"

I actually laughed. "No."

"Then why?"

Because the last time I raced… My best friend died. Because I still woke up hearing metal twisting. Because every finish line reminded me of a funeral. Instead… I smiled. "Some wins cost too much."He looked confused. One day… He'd understand. Hopefully not the hard way. He nodded slowly.

"I get it."

"No..." I shook my head. "I hope you never do." I climbed into the Camaro.

He stepped back. "Hey?" I looked over. "I'm glad you're back."

I smiled. "So am I." 

Mostly. I pulled away from the pump, the Camaro rumbling softly onto Riverside Drive. In my rearview mirror, the kid stood beside his Nissan, watching me disappear down the road. For a long moment, I wondered what Camden would've said. Probably something like… "You could've at least embarrassed him a little."

I laughed to myself. "No, Cam." I rested a hand against my chest again. "Not anymore."

The road ahead stretched toward the morning sun, and for the first time since I'd returned home, I realized something unexpected. The kids who'd watched us race hadn't just remembered the victories. They'd remembered what Riverside had stood for. Maybe… That was worth fighting for too.