12 days until the Indianapolis 500
The volume of people and gear swarming the Indianapolis Motor Speedway on the first day of practice befitted the world’s biggest sporting event. Teams descended like grit sucked into the intake filter, swiftly filling the infield with semitrailers, buses, equipment, and crew. The biggest teams took up entire acres of the infield, corralling their coordinated trailers-turned-offices, catering buses, and haulers filled with million-dollar race cars. The full-season drivers all had their own motor homes, lined up together like a subdivision, complete with patio furniture and inflatable hot tubs. The elaborate setups would stay in place until race day, unless someone failed to qualify for the race, in which case they would quickly slink away, shuttling back to wherever they’d first hatched their Indy 500 dreams.
At Janet’s urging, Mack arrived at the track an hour before the Tuesday orientation meeting, but her nerves felt like one of Shaw’s little stretch toys pulled in opposite directions. She was ready for the track at dawn, eager to get in the car and see what she could do, but the weaker part of her wanted to sweep in at the last minute so she wouldn’t have to face Leo. She hadn’t seen him since the dark hours of Saturday morning when she’d called a rideshare and snuck away from his house like a stupid, scared mouse. He’d texted, a simpledid you get home okay?and she’d responded with a cowardlyyup.
A hookup was one thing, but a hookup with her teammate was a relapse into behavior she could no longer afford. She’d held herself so tightly since Shaw was born, made safe decisions, done everything she could to create stability ... and yet she’d come to Indianapolis and lost her damn mind in less time than Shaw’s holiday break from school. Laurie wasn’t wrong in her silent censure. Thank god Shaw was two hundred miles away, home and not exposed to her mother’s chaos.
What Mack hadn’t been able to articulate to Laurie was that she hadn’t acted out of sheer recklessness. In the past, she would have found any man at all, anyone willing to make her body feel good and her mind go blank. She used to crave that adrenaline rush the same way she’d craved fast cars and winning races. But Leo was different. She wantedhim. The way he put other people at ease and had a connection with every person on the team. The way he built her up instead of knocking her down. The way he’d gripped her thighs and told her she wasso fucking beautiful. He made her feel like she was a woman, someone worth knowing, and she could grow addicted to that feeling.
But Leo Raisman wouldn’t help her win the Indy 500, and when this was over, she would go home to her daughter and close the window on racing for good. Mack was here for one reason only, and that reason had nothing to do with a man, Leo or otherwise.
Even though it was early, the track already buzzed with palpable energy and hundreds of people—mechanics, engineers, support staff, hospitality, sponsors, and more—hustled purposefully around the infield. So many people, all with a singular purpose: to qualify a car to race on the world’s most famous racetrack on the last Sunday of May. JJR had a hauler each for Mack’s and Leo’s cars, a semitrailer of tools and electronics, and a large trailer that served as office, meeting space, respite for the drivers, and lunch cart. In the JJR garage, the mechanics and engineers were fine-tuning the car before practice began, but Mack avoided them. What if Leo had mentioned their extracurricular activities?
Antsy but not willing to brave her own garage, Mack walked around the infield, taking in the buzz of activity. Near the media center, newsstations and reporters and YouTubers spread in serpentine lines, and drivers moved along the asphalt from one interview to the next. In the past, she’d loved media attention, the fans scrambling to meet her, being Wes Williams’s daughter, the perks and invites and free gear, and most of all, being known for being very, very good at her job. But now she gave the media area a wide berth, too afraid to find Leo there.
She hated that she’d ruined this moment for herself. This wasn’t how she wanted to experience her first and only Indy 500—no sponsor, no recent accomplishments, avoiding everyone because she’d slept with the wrong guy. Turning her head to look up at the Pagoda, she tried to think about the good things to come, not the mistake she’d made that weekend with Leo Raisman.
Too bad she walked smack into him.
Everything suddenly felt big and small at the same time. The wide Indiana sky, the towering Pagoda, the immenseness of the track surrounded her, but all she could see were the tight lines around Leo’s mouth. She had no idea what to say.
He stared at her a beat too long, then tilted his head toward the long rows of RVs and haulers. “We need to check in at the team trailer.”
She’d just come from the JJR hospitality bus but followed Leo anyway, assuming he knew something she did not. They walked quickly, exchanging bland conversation on the day’s schedule and Mack found herself hoping they’d never talk about Friday night. That they would both pretend it never happened and go forward as teammates only.
When they reached the JJR coach, Leo held the door open for her before following her inside and closing it.
“What the—”
“You left,” he said, his voice as even as always. She whirled around to look behind her. “It’s just us,” Leo assured her. He gestured for her to move to the center of the bus, away from the windows. “Why did you leave?”
Mack pushed forward toward the door. “If someone saw us come in here ...”
“They’ll think we’re two teammates grabbing a snack. How did you get home?”
“Rideshare.” She sounded like her daughter, petulant and irritated. She crossed her arms for good measure.
“How’s your chin?”
She pressed on the cut, needing the small sting. “Healing.”
“I would have driven you home. I wanted to drive you home.”
“It wasn’t a fucking date, Leo.” He startled, and if their situation was different, she might have thought she hurt his feelings. “I’m sorry I fell asleep at your house. Must have been the beer.”
He blinked. “Were you . . . ?”
She shook her head. “Very sober. The dumb decisions were all mine.”
His face was perfectly placid, his body language unreadable. She didn’t know him well enough to guess what he was thinking. Hell, she didn’t even know what she wanted him to say. She felt like that stretch toy again, one side of her wanting him to forget their sexy shower and the other wanting to kiss him again. She needed to get Leo Raisman out of her face and her headnow.
“Did you tell anyone?”
He blinked several times as his thick brows came together. “Who would I tell?”
She hugged her arms over her chest. “I don’t know. Janet. The crew. Jericho. Boomer.”
“I wouldn’t do that. I would never do that.” He shoved a hand through his messy curls and blew out a frustrated breath. “What happened Friday ... it’s between us. It doesn’t have anything to do with JJR or the race.”
