I remembered my mother telling him not to bring me. She’d hoped I wouldn’t want to race. But fighting what was in my blood had been useless.
The next pages showed me older—already racing under Dad’s guidance, holding my first trophies he cherished. Kaia had collected photos and articles from every competition, every small victory.
Each page was covered in pictures, clippings, hand-drawn hearts, quotes about perseverance and success.
What the fuck had I ever done to deserve her love? Her faith? What had I done to deserveher?
The last photo was recent—my first win with Forward Racing. My grin wasn’t for the victory. It was for her, standing near the podium, looking at me like I was her hero.
She made me want to do better. Be better.
And I let her down.
Carefully, I closed the album and forced myself to pack. Staying here longer was pointless.
I wrapped Dad’s trophies, shoved my clothes into a bag, and laid the scrapbook gently on top.
Laughter drifted up from downstairs—my mother’s and Russell’s. My hand froze on the zipper. Shit. So much for leaving unseen.
Sighing, I slung the duffel over my good shoulder, grabbed my suitcase, and headed down.
On the stairs, I caught them gaping at me like I was a ghost.
“Asher.” My mother smoothed her hair, voice tight with surprise. “Why didn’t you tell us you were coming?”
Would it have mattered?
“I just came to pick up my stuff,” I said. “I was leaving.”
Russell’s arm cinched tighter around her shoulders, protective and smug all at once. “Stay. We need to talk.”
“About what?” The duffel strap bit into my palm as I gripped tighter. “I broke up with Kaia like you wanted. Isn’t that what you’ve been waiting for?”
His expression didn’t flicker. “Your mother and I are getting married.”
That’s when I noticed the massive rock glittering on her hand. She shifted her weight, cheeks flushed, as if she knew exactly how obscene it looked.
A fortune on her finger. And this bastard had complained about paying for his kid’s school.
“Congratulations,” I said, my voice flat. “Guess you don’t need my blessing. And you sure as hell won’t need me at the wedding.”
Her smile faltered. Russell’s jaw tightened, the mask cracking for a heartbeat.
I hated that some part of me still cared. They’d been together almost six years. Marriage was inevitable. But the timing wasn’t. They’d waited until Kaia was gone and I was out of the way.
“Does your daughter know, Mr. Demeri?” I asked, letting the title cut.
My mother pressed her lips together, eyes flashing irritation. “Asher, please. You can’t call yourself an adult and then behave like this.”
Russell’s mouth curved into a thin smile, cold as stone. “Not yet. We’ll tell her when we visit the school.”
“Yes, by all means, do it in person. It’s the least you can do after rifling through her diary with your fiancée’s help.”
My mother’s hand twitched on Russell’s chest, her shame flickering through her painted smile. He, of course, didn’t flinch.
Kaia might forgive my mother because she was too kind for her own good. I never would.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Russell said, bland and dismissive, as if none of this mattered. “The season’s almost over. We expect to have you as our racer again next year.”
