All Chapters of The Thin Redline Between Love and Hate: Chapter 11 - Chapter 20

Jace:I didn't move. Not after she walked away. Not after the garage door slammed shut behind her. Not after the words she'd thrown at me settled into the silence. "You're a killer." The parking lot suddenly felt too small. Too quiet. Too empty. I stared at the closed bay door where she'd disappeared. She was crying. Calla Vance. The girl who scraped her knees climbing docks and refused to cry. The teenager who broke her wrist during a race and only complained because the cast meant she couldn't drive. The woman who'd looked me dead in the eye yesterday without letting a single emotion show. I'd made her cry. Or maybe… I'd reminded her why she'd spent two years trying not to.My hand instinctively found my chest. Right over my heart. I pressed hard against the ache, rubbing slow circles through my T-shirt like I could somehow keep it from splitting open. "Breathe..." The word barely escaped. She wasn't wrong. Not from where she stood. Not from what she'd lived through. Camden was dead

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

Jace:Driving had always been my reset button. Didn't matter if I was sixteen or twenty-seven. Didn't matter if I was winning races or running from them. If my hands were on a steering wheel and the road stretched out in front of me… The noise in my head usually got quieter. Founder's Bridge rose ahead, its long concrete arches glowing beneath the late morning sun.With the windows dropped down, the humid air rushed inside, carrying the smell of saltwater and marsh grass. The Camaro climbed the bridge effortlessly. From the top, all of Calusa Cove unfolded beneath me. To my left, Riverside hugged the river, its weathered docks and tin roofs catching the morning light. Straight ahead sat Downtown, all mirrored buildings, glass condos, and looping interstate ramps weaving together like veins. Beyond that… The Atlantic. An endless sheet of blue stretching until it swallowed the horizon. God… I'd missed this place. No matter how much it hurt.I eased off the bridge, letting the Camaro flo

Jace:The walls of my shack felt too close, Too quiet, Too full of questions I couldn't answer.I'd searched every drawer, Every cabinet, Every inch of the floor. The photos were gone. Not misplaced, Not forgotten, Taken. Someone had stood in my house while I wasn't here. Someone knew I was digging. Someone wanted me to stop. I rubbed my hand across my chest, trying to settle the knot that had lived there ever since Calla's words outside the garage. "You're a killer." Now this.I needed air. Real air. Not the stale kind trapped inside four walls. I grabbed my truck keys instead of the Camaro's. The old Chevy Silverado greeted me with its familiar creak as I climbed inside. The truck wasn't fast. Never had been. It wasn't supposed to be. Dad bought it when I was fifteen because, according to him, "A man should own one vehicle that'll still start after doing something stupid." He'd been right. The old truck rumbled to life.I rolled every window down. The warm evening breeze smelled of

Jace:There was something about nightfall in Calusa Cove. The humidity settled lower. The city lights reflected off the river. The air filled with the distant whistle of freight trains rolling through the industrial district. And somewhere… Engines started waking up. I was sitting on the dock behind my shack, absentmindedly flipping my old metal lighter open and closed, when my phone buzzed. Reid. I answered without looking."Yeah?""You busy?""Depends.""You coming?""Where?""The ports."I smiled despite myself. "Didn't that place get shut down?""Officially? Yeah. No.""Unofficially?"He laughed. "Every Friday."I shook my head. "I told you.""I know. No racing. I'm not asking you to race.""What are you asking?""Come remind people Riverside still exists." He paused. "...Besides.""What?""I think it'd be good for people to see your face.""My face gets mixed reviews.""That's because half the city thinks you disappeared.""I did.""Exactly."Silence. Then— "Come on. You don't h