“I didn’t say that,” she snapped. Leo flicked a confused glance at her. She huffed and pointed the air vents away from herself. Leo had turned the heat on low, but Mack wanted to feel the briskness of the air. “I love short tracks. I’ll always defend them. But ...” She chewed her lip, afraid to admit some things even to herself, but the night air and Leo Raisman made her feel like confessing. “Do you think you can love something and hate it at the same time?”
Instantly embarrassed, she rubbed an eye, forgetting she’d put on mascara. She checked her face in the side mirror and swiped at the black streak under her eye. They were in an industrial area now, a vestige of Indianapolis’s manufacturing roots that still bordered downtown.
“I think you can love an idea but hate the actual work,” Leo said slowly. “That’s what happened to my mom. She went to law school in the eighties, thinking it would be badass to be a woman in the boys’ club, but she hated practicing law.”
Mack latched onto the subject change. “My sister is a lawyer and I’m not sure she loves it either. How does your lawyer mom feel about you driving fast cars for a living?”
“Oh, she hated it at first.” Leo laughed. “She hated the whole idea of racing at all, and then she really hated the demands of the karting circuit. My dad’s an ER doctor—” He cut his eyes to her. “Do not even say it. Jewish kid, doctor-lawyer parents, I’ve heard all the jokes.” Mack raised her hands in submission and Leo continued. “My dad couldn’t travel much so my mom drove me all over California for the races. I think she saw how much I loved racing, and even though she didn’t love it, she saw that I did. They’ve always been really great parents that way. If I was interested in something, they were interested, too.”
Mack thought of Shaw, how she loved school, loved learning new things, loved dancing and gymnastics and softball, and never complained about homework. She tried to celebrate Shaw’s interests, even if she didn’t share them. Didn’t she? Parenting was a constant internal performance review and Mack always came up short in her own evaluation.
She could still hear the woman at lunch earlier today.But you’re the mom.
They’d reached downtown now, the bright lights and sounds drifting into the car as Leo’s warm voice drifted out. Briefly, he caught her gaze. “I wonder if it might be hard for someone who loves racing to watch other people do it week after week.”
Mack held his look, her insides buzzing with the joy and agony of someone else understanding her situation so perfectly. Embarrassed, she motioned at the windshield. “Watch the road. I thought you were a professional.”
He verified Laurie’s address, turning right up Delaware to avoid the chaos of Monument Circle. They’d passed the old City Market before Mack said, “Could you tell your mom was unhappy? When she was a lawyer?”
Leo turned onto Michigan, weaving through the one-way streets of downtown to loop back to Laurie’s building on North Meridian. If he thought it was an odd question, he didn’t show it. “I knew she hatedher job, but she never let me think her frustration was my fault.” He paused, thoughtful. “Maybe that’s why she was so supportive of racing. She didn’t want to watch me make the same mistakes. And she figured it out. She’s always loved to write so now she’s the communications director at a huge law firm.”
He parked near Laurie’s building and killed the engine.
“The problem is that I’ve never wanted to do anything except drive fast cars in circles,” Mack whispered into the silence left by the Porsche’s V-6 engine. “I don’t want to balance the books or deal with shitty contractors. I don’t want to spend one whole day of my week mowing and weed-whacking and pressure washing metal bleachers. I hate running a business and I’m pretty sure I’m bad at it, which makes me hate it more. I just want todrive.” She swiped at her nose, forcing herself to calm. She would not cry in front of Leo. “And don’t you dare fucking say something stupid like,There’s always next year. I don’t have a next year. I can’t even get a sponsor for this year. My inbox is full of ‘no’ and ‘we’re sorry.’”
Leo palmed the gearshift, phantom shifting through the pattern. They’d parked in the shadow of Laurie’s building and his face was obscured by the darkness, no expression visible. She’d told him not to say anything but his silence annoyed her as much as any trite words he might have said. He made it disconcertingly easy to say the things she usually crammed into the back of her mind, and even though the darkness made the night air feel colder, Mack’s body felt hot with embarrassment. His silence made her want to pull him across the console and kiss him stupid, so she reached for the door handle and was halfway out of the car before Leo called out to her.
“I’m sorry, Mack. I really am.”
She closed the car door and shuffled her feet on the curb. She wanted more from him, wanted him to say something that would keep the magic of this night going. But what else could he say? It didn’t matter how she did here in Indy, she’d still be back in Haubstadt after Memorial Day.
“Thanks for including me tonight.”
Suddenly, he was out of the car and next to her on the curb, closer than a teammate should be. His posture was easy, his bearing laid back. His dark eyes searched her own, and she thought he would kiss her again. She wanted him to, but he simply laid a finger to the freckle on her left cheek.
“If tomorrow is your only shot at Indy”—he overemphasized theif—“I don’t have to tell you to make it count. But in case you don’t already know, you’ve got a teammate, afriend, and an entire crew of people who want this as much as you do.” He spoke softly, slowly. She flicked her gaze toward the street, needing a momentary break from his gentle intensity. Needing to stop herself from breaking her own boundaries when he was respecting them so well.
“I’ll be cheering for you tomorrow, Rookie. And on race day. And for a long time after that.”
She leaned toward Leo, willing to step over the line she’d drawn herself, but Leo shook his head and stepped back, saving her from herself. She watched as he got in the car and drove away, wishing she could have all the things she wanted. If only life was that easy.
Chapter 24
8 days until the Indianapolis 500
Frenetic energy buzzed through Gasoline Alley on qualification day. Teams scurried with purpose and the echoes of whirring tire jacks, clanging wrenches, and shouted instructions bounced in the air throughout the long rows of garages. Soon cars would take to the track, and by five o’clock fates would be sealed: Some teams would spend tonight drinking champagne and celebrating, while others would work until dawn looking for more speed.
“Williams, you ready?” Janet emerged from the back of the garage in her traditional white button-down shirt, aviators, and a scowl across her weathered features. She pushed the glasses up her forehead. “Don’t be a bitch baby out there, but for god’s sake, do not put this machine into the wall. We don’t have the cash to fix damages.”
As far as pep talks went, Mack had worse. Wes once told herDon’t lose and don’t dieand she’d managed to win the whole damn thing in Kansas City.
“Fast, but not furious. Got it.”
“No funny shit. We’re sending Leo first. Could be several hours before we get you out there.”
Mack peered over Janet’s shoulder, where her car sat ready to be pulled onto pit lane. It was freshly painted and painfully devoid of decals other than a small Hartley logo on the sidepod. One garageover, so many logos plastered Leo’s car that the paint scheme was barely discernible. With Laurie’s help she’d mailed over two hundred packets, sent twice as many emails, cold-called anyone with a phone number, and struggled through a few painful Zooms, all of which ended with the same result: No.
“About the sponsorship . . .”
