Ash sighed. “Mierda.”
He rolled to face me, his tired brown eyes locking on mine. “The results go up today, right, mi niña?”
I wished he hadn’t asked, but worry gnawed at him, and I couldn’t blame him. “Yeah.”
“Come here.”
He pulled me against his chest, and I wrapped my arms around his waist as his hand skimmed my back. “They don’t mean shit, okay?” he murmured, kissing my hair. “It’s like a training lap. I might suck and be slow, but then I finish first when it matters. If it’s not the score you want, you’ll retake it.”
“Thank you.”
Asher traced the curve of my ear with his fingertips. “For what?”
“For being you.”
He tried to smile, but it faltered. Since he’d paid Ethan, his smiles had been scarce. He still won every race, but the spark was gone. Each time he mentioned Alejandro, my heart tripped, afraid one day he’d tell me his agent had found him a new team far away.
It was irrational, but he wasn’t happy—and I’d never ask him to stay if leaving meant finding peace.
As if sensing the turn of my thoughts, Asher caught my mouth with his. I parted for him, dizzy from his scent and touch. He cupped my behind, pulling me closer, and I tangled my fingers in his hair as he kissed me like it was the last kiss he’d ever give me.
“I hate this.” His lips dragged wetly along my jaw to my neck. “Hate leaving.” He sucked at my skin, just enough to make me ache, careful not to leave a mark.
“But you have to. If not, you’ll be late,” I breathed as his tongue traced down to my collarbone.
His hands roamed, igniting every nerve. “It’s just training, peque. I can’t wait for this season to be over.”
My alarm blared again. I silenced it, and Asher kissed my forehead before sliding out of bed. We risked everything each time he slept in my room—or I in his—but neither of us could stop.
I lay on my side, admiring the sculpted lines of his back and long legs as he grabbed his tee and sweats. At the door, he paused, then came back. “What?” I giggled as he leaned over me, brushing hair from my face.
“Te quiero. Text me when you get the results, okay?”
I’d never get used to him saying he loved me. “Yo a ti,” I whispered. “I will. Be careful on the track.”
Ash brushed a kiss across my lips. “Always.”
When the soft thud of his footsteps faded down the hall, I slipped from beneath the covers and got ready for school, fighting not to let the nerves about my results ruin the day before it even began.
***
I scored a little over eight hundred on the PSAT, and all I felt was fear.
Fear that my father would be furious. Fear he’d ground me. Fear he’d call me, again, a disappointment—that other people my age had their priorities straight while I let laziness destroy my future.
After school, I sat on my bed with my diary. Writing helped, but Dad would want to talk the moment he got home, and there was no way that conversation would end well.
“Kaia!” His voice cracked through the hall. The door swung open without a knock. His gray suit filled the doorway, his cold stare pinning me in place. “Come to my office. We need to talk.”
My knees weakened, every step unsteady as I trailed after him.
He opened his office door and gestured to a chair. “Sit.”
I lowered into it while he sank into his leather chair and laced his hands on the desk. The scene felt like something out of a movie—an employee being fired and told to pack up and leave. Except this wasn’t a boss. This was my father. So why was I terrified?
“I’m disappointed,” Dad said flatly. “You had months to study, but your results prove you didn’t make even the smallest effort despite knowing how important this test is. So, I’ve made a few decisions.”
I’d done everything I could. It was never enough for him.
