“Because of him?” I hedged.
“In general.”
I didn’t like Ethan, and Russell was a dick, but the team was more than those two. “I haven’t even started racing yet.”
“Penalty clauses exist for a reason. You wouldn’t be the first to back out.”
“Wait.” I straightened. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
Ale rose, disappeared into the other room, then returned with a thin black folder. He set it in my lap. “Read this.”
I flipped it open. My pulse climbed with every line. An offer from a Spanish team that competed in the World Championship every year. Not a RevGlobe Grand Prix team with custom bikes, sponsorships, and piles of money—but racing for them would put me on the map. Recognition. Opportunity.
But accepting meant going back to Spain. Saying no to Dad’s first team.
He’d always kept his word. I’d given mine to Forward Racing.
“Their timing sucks,” I muttered. “Why not offer this at the start of the season in Spain?”
Ale shrugged. “Injuries happen. Rosters change. They’ve been watching you for a while. I told you it was only a matter of time.”
I closed the folder. “When do you need to answer?”
“By the end of the month. Before the year closes. You’ve got time, but if you want my opinion, I’ve got a good feeling about it. A step forward for your career. A chance to show your talent.”
I flipped through the pages again without really seeing them. Ale clasped his hands on his knees, watching me.
“I’ll think about it,” I said, handing the folder back. “Thanks for looking out for me. By the way, Javi called earlier. He’s signing with Sport Union Madrid.”
Ale’s face broke into a grin. “Holy shit, chico. See? Dreams do come true.”
I heard the unspoken part: they came true for Javi, and they could for me.
But I was almost twenty-one. Grant was optimistic about the season, but there was no guarantee I’d take Forward Racing to the World Championship. The Spanish offer was my shot to level up now. Race with a team that had a proven record.
Ale had a good feeling—and when it came to my career, he was rarely wrong.
So why did my chest feel so heavy?
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Kaia
Recordando al grande.
Sergio Williams: un antes y un después en el deporte español.
Onscreen, a handsome man smiled from a photo on a Spanish racing site, helmet tucked under his arm. His brown eyes and messy dark hair reminded me of Asher.
I always checked to see if they mentioned him, but today everything was about his dad—it was his birthday. I bookmarked the articles to read later and shifted on the cold step at the bottom of the school staircase. My numb butt agreed sitting here so long had been dumb.
“Kaia!” Mandy’s voice bounced off the white walls as she hurried down. “Here you are. I’ve been looking everywhere.”
I shoved my phone into my book bag. “Why?”
“Come on.” She tugged at my hoodie sleeve. “I’ll tell you on the way to class.”
Only Lit left before I could go home. At least I liked that one, which made it bearable.
