Chapter 9

Jace:

Downtown always saved the fastest race for last. It wasn't an official rule, just one of those things everyone understood. As the crowd thickened around the starting line, engines grew louder, bets got bigger, and the conversations quieted. Everyone wanted to see who had the fastest car in Calusa Cove. Reid leaned against his Nova beside me, arms crossed.

"You sure you don't wanna run?"

I watched two cars stage at the line. "Nah."

"You've been saying that all night."

"I mean it."

He glanced sideways. "I'll ask again next week."

"I know you will."

A flag girl stepped into the middle of the road. One hand in the air. Two cars revved hard. A Nissan GT-R. A matte gray BMW M4 with a black crown decal across the windshield. Drift Kings. The flag dropped. Both cars exploded forward. Rubber screamed. The BMW hooked almost immediately while the GT-R spun just enough to lose momentum. By the first intersection… It was over. The BMW crossed the finish nearly three car lengths ahead. The Eastside crowd erupted. Money changed hands. Someone blasted an air horn. Reid shook his head.

"They're getting faster."

"They've got money."

"They've got more than money."

I looked at him. "What do you mean?"

He shrugged.

"Better parts. Professional tuners. Sponsors." He scratched at the scar on his jaw. "Stuff Riverside can't compete with."

I looked around. He wasn't wrong. There were still plenty of old-school Riverside builds. Fox-body Mustangs. Camaros. Old Hondas held together by zip ties and determination. But they sat on the outside. Watching. The center belonged to Eastside. European imports. Carbon fiber. Endless horsepower. Unlimited budgets. Calusa Cove hadn't just evolved. It had been bought. Another Drift Kings driver climbed onto the roof of his BMW while the crowd cheered. Black crown. Everywhere. I remembered when Riverside ruled these streets. Nobody cared what badge was on the hood. Only what happened when the light turned green. Now… Everything felt different. Like I'd accidentally come home to somebody else's city.

Reid sighed. "You seeing it now?"

"Yeah."

"Told you."

I watched another Eastside driver spray champagne over his friends. "Cam would've hated this."

Reid laughed. "He'd have called them credit card racers."

"He absolutely would've."

"'Horsepower financed at twelve percent APR.'"

I couldn't help smiling. "Sounds exactly like him."

For a second… It felt normal. Like Camden might appear out of nowhere carrying a wrench, making fun of everyone's builds before challenging them anyway. The second passed. Reality returned. I checked my phone. 9:43. 

"I should head out."

Reid nodded. "You gonna be around tomorrow?"

"I've gotta unpack."

"Liar."

"I've gotta unpack eventually."

He grinned. "I'll find you."

"I know you will."

He pulled me into a quick hug. The kind guys never admitted were hugs. "Good to have you home."

The words caught me off guard. "...Thanks."

I climbed into the Camaro. The V8 came alive beneath me. As I pulled away from downtown, the sounds of the races faded into the distance. Instead of heading straight toward my place… I found myself taking another turn. Pure instinct. Muscle memory. The streets narrowed. Old brick buildings replaced high-rises. Familiar murals covered alley walls. I didn't even realize where I was going until I saw it. VANCE PERFORMANCE GARAGE The old painted sign hung above the building exactly as I remembered. The letters were a little faded now. One corner sagged slightly. But it was still there. I slowed. Then pulled into the empty parking lot. The Camaro idled quietly as I stared through the windshield. This place… God. Camden had been so proud. I climbed out. The humid night wrapped around me immediately. The shop was dark. Bay doors closed. The front office lights off. Just a single security light glowing above the entrance. I walked slowly toward the building. My shoes crunched across loose gravel.

The smell hit me first. Oil. Rubber. Metal. Even with the shop closed… It still smelled like work. Like Camden. I rested my hand against one of the bay doors. Cold steel. Two years ago… This place had never been quiet.

"One day..." Camden spun in a slow circle inside the empty building. The concrete echoed beneath our footsteps. "This whole place is gonna be full." 

I looked around. The building wasn't much. Four bays. Small office. Tiny parts room. The roof leaked. "You sure?"

He laughed. "Positive."

"You're optimistic."

"Nah." He slapped one of the lifts proudly. "I'm stubborn."

Calla wandered through the office carrying paint samples. "The waiting room should be blue."

Camden pointed dramatically. "No."

"Why?"

"Blue's boring."

"Blue's professional."

"Exactly."

I laughed. "She's got you there."

Camden glared at both of us. "I'm surrounded by traitors."

Calla smirked. "You'll survive."

He threw an old shop rag at us. "Both of you get out."

The memory faded. I smiled despite the ache in my chest. He'd done it. He'd really done it. Built the shop. Made a living fixing cars. Exactly like he'd always dreamed. I glanced through the office windows. The waiting room was clean. A couple chairs. Old magazines. A coffee machine. Someone had watered the plants. Someone still cared. Of course they did. Calla. I already knew. She'd never let his dream die.

A distant engine echoed down the street. Fast. Very fast. Headlights swept across the parking lot. I turned instinctively. A familiar shape came flying around the corner. Pink. Nissan. The tires chirped as it swung into the lot with practiced precision before stopping beside the building. Bubblegum. The driver's door opened. And then… She stepped out. For a second… I genuinely forgot how to breathe. The oversized garage shirts. The ripped jeans. The grease. Gone.

Her dark hair fell in effortless waves down her back, catching the glow of the parking lot lights. The teal cocktail dress skimmed her figure without trying too hard, elegant in a way that somehow still felt unmistakably Calla. Gold earrings caught the light as she tucked a loose strand of sun-kissed hair behind one ear. She looked… Beautiful. Not because of the dress. Not because of the makeup that made her warm brown eyes seem even bigger. Because she'd grown into herself. The little girl who chased Camden and me down the riverbank was gone. The young woman standing in front of me carried herself with quiet confidence, even in heels.

For one dangerous second… I almost smiled. Almost told her exactly that. That she looked incredible. That Camden would've spent the entire night teasing every guy who looked her way. That she'd somehow become the woman I always knew she would. The words never left my mouth. Because then I saw her face. Not the makeup. Not the dress. The expression. She looked… Broken. Not crying. Not angry. Just exhausted. Like someone who'd spent an entire evening pretending to be someone else and couldn't hold the mask up another second.

She closed the driver's door gently, leaned back against the Nissan, and closed her eyes. Her shoulders sagged. The confident woman from the gala disappeared. In her place… Was the girl who'd lost her brother. The girl who still came back here when the world got too heavy. Whatever had happened tonight… It had followed her home.