Chapter 20

Calla:

I should've gone home. That would've been the responsible thing. Take a shower. Eat something besides coffee and spite. Pretend today hadn't happened. Instead… I found myself driving toward the port. The city lights reflected off the windshield as Bubblegum rumbled over the bridge. Downtown buzzed beneath me, alive with Friday night energy. Restaurants spilled laughter onto sidewalks. Boats bobbed in the marina. Somewhere, music echoed over the water. 

I wasn't looking for trouble. Not exactly. I just… Needed to remember there was still a version of me that existed before Camden died. The version that loved the sound of an engine winding out. The version that laughed. The version that wasn't angry all the time. The abandoned shipping yard came into view, floodlights illuminating rows of cars and crowds gathered around the makeshift drag strip. I parked near the edge of the lot. The familiar smell hit me instantly. Burnt rubber. Race fuel. Saltwater. Warm asphalt. God. It had been too long.

I climbed out, shoving my keys into my back pocket. Tonight I'd traded cargo pants for ripped denim shorts, an oversized faded racing tee tied loosely at one hip, and my black-and-white Dunks. Comfort. Nothing fancy. Nothing Eastside. 

The second my shoes hit the pavement— "Well, damn." Reid appeared out of nowhere. "Didn't think I'd see you here."

"You always appear out of nowhere?"

"It's part of my charm."

"I thought it was your criminal record."

He grinned. "Alleged."

I rolled my eyes. "What're you doing here?"

He looked genuinely offended. "I live here."

"You practically do."

"Fair." He nodded toward the staging lanes. "So?"

"What?"

"You lining up?"

I laughed. "Absolutely not."

"Not even one?"

"No."

"You scared?"

"I'm retired."

"You're twenty-three."

"I said what I said."

He chuckled. "So you're just watching?"

"That's the plan."

He nodded once. "Glad you're here anyway."

Before I could answer… Movement across the lot caught my eye. My stomach tightened. Jace. Even from this distance… I'd know him anywhere. Gray hoodie. Ball cap turned backward. Hands shoved into his pockets. He stood beside a white GT-R surrounded by a handful of Eastside guys. One of them looked... irritated. Another waved his hands around dramatically. Great. Now what?

I folded my arms. "What's going on over there?"

Reid followed my gaze. "Huh."

"What?"

"I don't know."

Together we watched. One of the rich kids threw his hands in the air like he was arguing. Jace didn't react. Didn't puff his chest out. Didn't shove anybody. He simply crouched beside the car. Looked underneath. Then stood and said something. The kid frowned. Then… Popped the hood. I frowned too. What the fuck? Jace leaned over the engine. Reached inside. A few quick movements. The kid stepped beside him. His expression changed completely. Confusion. Then surprise. Then… Relief. The guy actually shook Jace's hand. What...? Jace nodded once. Said something else. Then quietly disappeared into the crowd. No celebration. No attention. Just… Gone.

I stared after him. "What was that?"

Reid shrugged. "No clue."

Curiosity got the better of both of us.

"C'mon."

We walked toward the GT-R. The young driver still stood beside the open hood, staring into the engine like he'd just witnessed magic.

Reid spoke first. "Everything good?"

The kid looked up. "Oh..." He recognized Reid. "Yeah. Actually..." He laughed nervously. "...better than good."

"What happened?"

The driver pointed toward the engine. "Someone disconnected my radiator hose."

My heartbeat stopped. "...What?"

"I would've blown the engine." He shook his head. "Probably halfway through the run."

Reid's expression hardened. "You sure?"

The kid nodded. "He showed me."

"Who?" The guy looked around for Jace. "The dude in the hoodie."

"...Jace?"

Silence.

 "Yeah man…. He fixed it." The driver still sounded stunned. "I thought he was messing with me. He wasn't. He saved my car." He looked down the drag strip. "My race was next."

Reid frowned. "Against who?"

The answer came quietly. "...Reve." Every muscle in my body locked. 

The kid rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't even know why somebody'd do that."

Neither did I. At least… That's what I wanted to tell myself. Instead… My mind drifted backward. Reve. Last night.

"Have you seen him?"

"Did he talk to you?"

"If he comes around... tell me."

Then— Jace. In the parking lot outside Camden's garage. His face after I'd called him a killer. The hurt. Not anger. Not guilt. Hurt. Then earlier today… Defending him. Without thinking. Now… This. I looked down the rows of cars. Searching. Finally I spotted him. Way at the edge of the crowd. Standing alone beside his Camaro. Watching another race. Like nothing had happened. Like saving someone's engine was as ordinary as checking tire pressure. He hadn't stayed for recognition. Hadn't used it to prove some point. Hadn't announced it to the crowd. He'd simply… Helped. Because someone needed it. Just like he always used to. The realization hit harder than I wanted it to.

I remembered another afternoon. I couldn't have been more than twelve. One of the neighborhood kids had crashed his bike into a ditch. Everybody else laughed. Jace didn't. He carried both the bike and the crying kid three blocks home. When Camden teased him about it later… Jace had just shrugged. "Somebody had to help him." God. I'd forgotten that. Or maybe… I'd forced myself to.

"You okay?" Reid's voice pulled me back.

I realized I'd been staring. "...Yeah."

"You don't look okay."

I looked toward the crowd again. Toward Jace. Toward the man I'd spent two years convincing myself was capable of leaving Camden to die. But the man I was watching tonight… Didn't even let a stranger blow an engine. He'd stopped. He'd noticed. He'd fixed it. No questions. No reward. No hesitation.

The knot in my chest tightened. "I don't understand."

Reid looked at me carefully. "What?"

I barely whispered it. "If Jace really killed Camden..." My eyes never left him. "...why does he keep saving everyone else?"

Reid didn't answer. He didn't have to. Because for the second time in two days… The version of Jace Maddox I'd spent two years hating… Didn't match the man standing twenty yards away. And every crack forming in that story… Made the truth underneath a little harder to ignore.