I hung up. My heart beat again.
“See? Everything’s fine.” Alba smiled. “Go. I’ll wait here—unless you’re planning to be out all night.”
“No.” I smoothed my hair. “How do I look?”
“Like every guy’s dream. Go.”
I dashed for the door.
In the backyard, a tall figure stepped from behind a tree.
Dark hair. Leather jacket. The face I adored. But no smile.
“What happened, Ash?” My feet carried me to him, arms aching to hold him. I’d missed him so much, had so much to tell him.
I reached for him.
A week ago, he would’ve hugged me first. Held me. Kissed me. Now he only took my hand.
“We need to talk,” he said, his voice quiet and unsure. My chest shriveled.
He wasn’t here because he missed me.
“Sure,” I said, forcing a sensible, grown-up tone I didn’t feel, pretending I wasn’t a little girl who wanted to cling to his neck and beg him not to leave.
Asher ran his thumb over my knuckles. “Ale’s having trouble finding another team for me here. He’s had several meetings, but nothing yet. I might…” He paused, cleared his throat. “I might need to move. Spain or somewhere else.”
My head shook before I thought about it—the reflex you get when you want to cry but laugh instead. My heart pulsed in my throat and my hand trembled in his.
He dropped my hand like touching me hurt him. Like he hadn’t kissed every inch of me last weekend. Like he hadn’t said we’d have beautiful children. Like we’d never fallen in love.
“But you said—”
“I’m sorry, peque. I really am. But if I want to keep racing, I don’t have a choice.”
That wasn’t what he’d promised at the cabin. He’d said we’d figure it out. Now this. His change made no sense.
“Okay. Well, we can make it work, right? We can text. Email. I only have a year of school left—”
“It’ll never work.”
The words were a knife. “It’ll never work? This is a joke, right? You’re kidding. Tell me it’s a joke. Please, Ash.”
I told myself I wouldn’t cry, I wouldn’t beg. I did both. It hurt like losing part of myself, like losing hope. For the first time since Mom left, I had been happy. Now he was leaving too.
Why didn’t he choose me?
Asher stared at the ground—cold, still. Coward. He couldn’t even look at me.
My hands shook. “You knew last weekend, didn’t you?”
His eyes met mine for a beat. “No. No, I didn’t. Of course I didn’t.”
“And I’m supposed to believe you?”
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t lie, peque.” His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Be happy.”
He turned and walked toward the gates.
