She hadn’t slammed the door on racing because she’d wanted to; she’d had no choice but to push it softly closed. Shaw needed a parent who would focus on her safety, not one who chased down empty hallways.
“Stop,” she rasped.
Wes stood and shuffled to where she leaned against the sink. The house was small but blessed with an embarrassment of windows, and pastel light filtered through the kitchen, highlighting the dull linoleum floor. Her dad tipped her chin up, forcing her to make eye contact. “Iknow you’re scared, but Shaw will be safe and happy with me and Billie, and I can run my own damn track for a few weeks. This is theIndy 500we’re talking about, Mack. You will never, ever forgive yourself if you let this one pass you by. Shaw will be fine, I will be fine, the track will be fine. But if you don’t get your ass to Indianapolis ...” He swallowed, and his voice came back thick and high. “If you don’t give the Indy 500 a shot, I worry you’ll never be fine again, Spec.”
She closed her eyes against the burning tears that came out of nowhere. She worked so hard to hide her boredom and regret from her dad. She chugged through her responsibilities at the track, went to every PTA meeting and school function for Shaw, dutifully took Wes to medical appointments, and she thought she did it all with a smile. She didn’t know if she was crying now because he was encouraging her to go or because he knew the truth of her unhappiness.
But of course he did. He knew the truth ofher, that the wildness wouldn’t die no matter how hard she tried.
Of course she’d think about this lost opportunity every day until she died. She’d stayed up half the night replaying her conversation with Janet, obsessing over every word. Maybe she could take this one chance and bury the wildness forever. She could go to Indy, chase checkered flags, and come home and shut the door on racing for good, but this time she’d turn the key in the lock.
“Even if it wouldn’t leave you and Shaw in a lurch, you’re forgetting that I’d have three weeks to learn how to drive a car I’ve never driven before,” Mack whispered. She was afraid to look at Wes’s face.
“Now that,” Wes grinned as he lifted her chin, “I ain’t gonna worry about. If it’s got an engine, you can send it.”
Texts Between Mack Williams and Billie Summit
Mack[4/29, 11:34 a.m.]: hey I forgot to tell u about Dad’s inhaler. he should take it anytime he’s doing any kind of physical exertion. It’s in the basket on the kitchen counter.
Mack[4/29, 11:34 a.m.]: U should probably add that to the list I gave you under PRN meds
Billie[4/29, 11:35 a.m.]: Got it!
Mack[4/29, 11:35 a.m.]: he should take it even to the grocery if he’s going to walk the aisles.
Billie[4/29, 11:36 a.m.]: Okay honey! I’ll take good care of everyone
Billie[4/29, 11:36 a.m.]: Take care of yourself and drive safe!
Mack[4/29, 11:37 a.m.]: Did u see instructions on how to refill the Rxs? And for Shaw’s allergy med? She won’t take the liquid. It has to be the chewable.
Billie[4/29, 11:38 a.m.]: Why don’t u give me a call and we can talk thru it 1 more time. U can make sure I’ve got it down crystal clear.
Texts Between Mack Williams and Wes Williams
Wes [4/29, 12:47 p.m.]: goddammit stop calling billie
Wes [4/29, 12:47 p.m.]: i wiped ur ass and taught u to drive. we’re fine here.
Chapter 6
3.5 weeks until the Indianapolis 500
Wes always said country was country and city was city, no matter the place, and Mack felt the truth of those words as she stood in the foyer of her sister’s downtown Indianapolis condo. The warm oak floors, soft white palette, and wall of windows in her sister’s twenty-second-floor condo seemed closer to Manhattan than the wood paneling and shag carpeting in her Haubstadt house. Mack looked down at her feet to make sure her worn sneakers were free of dirt, and toed them off just in case.
“You can come all the way in.” Laurie impatiently gestured her inside.
“Your place is nice,” Mack said as she studied the home her sister had made. Everything was neutral: A white upholstered chair and white linen couch sat upon a pristine jute rug, beige linen chairs flanked a large whitewashed trestle table, and Mack could see through to the equally colorless kitchen. Shaw could ruin this place in less than thirty seconds.
“Thanks. Are you hungry? Thirsty?” Even in the comfort of her own home, her sister wore a crisp shirtdress and gold jewelry.
“No, I’m good.” Mack patted her messy braid, suddenly feeling childish in her ancientWes Williams #88airbrushed sweatshirt and cutoff jean shorts. Thirty years old and still Mack felt coarse andplain—too short and too much of the Williams chin—next to her sophisticated older sister. She’d somehow forgotten what a knockout Laurie was, with her dark glossy hair and ridiculously long legs. Once they’d hit puberty, the adults around them couldn’t stop pointing out their differences.My god, Laurie, you could be the next Cindy Crawford! And Mack, you look so much like your dad.
Their mother died two days after Mack’s birth and left no information about the father of her four-year-old daughter, Laurie. Without much thought, Wes brought Mack home, adopted Laurie, and went from a rowdy bachelor to the parent of two young girls overnight. From the start, Laurie was physically the odd person out, tall and warm-toned and beautiful even as a child, where Mack and Wes were short and solid with wild tangles of wavy hair. It wasn’t until she was older, and Laurie was long gone, that Mack realized Laurie probably never heard these comments as compliments, only speculation on their parentage.
“God, this is awkward,” Laurie said with a tense laugh. “At least get out of the entryway. Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”
Without waiting for an answer, Laurie went to the kitchen and began reaching for glasses. Mack perched on a clear stool at the white marble island. Her sister placed a glass of ice water in front of Mack and then poured herself a large glass of red wine. A tender pain of familiarity tugged at her belly that Laurie remembered Mack never drank wine. Then again, she was the only witness to thirteen-year-old Mack’s disastrous Boone’s Farm incident.
