The Fields
It doesn’t matterhow many times I come here, I still get a thrill watching the races at the Fields. Even though Ryder bought the land from Mr. Jacoby’s grandson and converted it into a proper motocross track, he left the part of the Fields where he used to race untouched, keeping the tradition of Friday night races alive. And tonight, Christopher is going to show everyone once again that he is just as talented behind the wheel as his father.
Electricity pulses in the air like a living thing with the expectation of what’s to come. Excited bystanders waiting for the races to begin mill around the cars to check out the engines and mods. All of it wraps around me like a familiar old song.
Headlights swing like a spotlight as Elijah parks beside me.
Julien hops out of the passenger side and pops up onto the tailgate of the truck I’m sitting on. Since Christopher has my car, I decided to drive the old Chevy NAPCO 4x4. A few years after we were married, Ryder came across it in a junkyard when he was searching for parts. Snatched it right up and restored it toits original beauty. We’d take it out to the lake at night and make love under the stars.
Julien nudges my side. “Why aren’t you in the thick of it with the kids?”
“It’s their thing now,” I comment.
The truck bed groans under our combined weight when Elijah joins us. “You make us sound like dinosaurs. We’re not that old.”
Maybe not old, but changed. Seasons shift, years go by, and life trundles forward whether we want it to or not.
I’ve spent more Friday nights than I can count in this very spot. Back then, it was me, Ryder, Jayson, and Julien, four best friends with a wide-open future stretching ahead of us like an endless road of possibilities. A part of me feels the poignant ache of those carefree days. The thrill and the rush of adrenaline before a race—but it’s theirs now.
Nostalgia is a cruel thing. It creeps up on you when you least expect it and reminds you of what was, what could have been, what should have been, and—I run a hand over the glossy metal of the truck bed—what you don’t have anymore.
“Where’s Nicholas?” I ask. I didn’t see him in the crowd with everyone else.
“Party,” Elijah says as he holds his phone up and snaps a few pictures.
“Ah, high school parties. The bane of my existence,” I reply with a chuckle.
“Speaking of missing people, why isn’t Fallon here with you?” Julien asks.
“He’s coming. He had to work.”
Laying my head on Julien’s shoulder, I watch my kids do their thing. Christopher’s smile is a mile wide as he chats up a girl who is more interested in him than the sleek muscle car he’s standing beside. Marcus has his arm slung around Hannah’swaist as they talk. Every so often, he’ll bend to her ear, and she’ll laugh at something he tells her. Charlotte and Grant?—
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” I elbow Julien in the ribs. “Tell your son to stop trying to impregnate my sixteen-year-old daughter.”
Julien snickers when he sees Grant and Charlotte locked in a very passionate kiss.
“Is that how babies are made these days?” he jests.
Taking pity on me, Elijah jumps down off the tailgate. “On it.”
“Thank you,” I gratefully tell him and poke Julien.
“Do I need to remind you what you and Jay used to do at their age?”
I jab my elbow into his ribs again because he won’t stop laughing. “No!”
More people arrive. So many young faces I don’t recognize.
Suddenly getting serious, Julien shifts and turns toward me. “How are you handling…things?”
By things, he means Jayson.
“We had a good talk the other day, and I saw him earlier at the house.”
We spent hours at Ryder’s grave, reading, talking, reminiscing, and laughing. No matter what has happened between us, I’ve missed him so much. Our lives may have diverged twenty years ago, but our anger, grief, loss, guilt, and heartbreak are the same, even if the causes are different. Ryder must have sent Jayson and Fallon to me for a reason. It’s a bizarre thing to think, but one I wholeheartedly believe. Both men showing up in my life again is not a coincidence.
“Did he tell you?”
