Page 6 of Battle Scars

“So you’re leaving it to Adrienne?” someone asked, and I almost swallowed my tongue.

“It’s possible,” he said vaguely.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that both Adrienne and Bobby are skilled drivers,” Dad explained. “While Dark Horse will always belong to the Malone family, control of the company will always belong to the lead driver.”

“And who will that be when you’re gone?”

“Whoever tops this season.”

No. He didn’t do it. Dad’s not making this into a competition. He wouldn’t do that to me. To Bobby.

No. Just no.

But he did. I snapped my head around and looked at Bobby, who was grinning his movie star smile at the crowd, and they were eating it up. Looking at my childhood friend, one thing was clear: Bobby wanted top billing of DHR, my family’s legacy, and he’d stop at nothing to get it.

My worst nightmare just came true. My dad pitted my only friend against me over control of the family business. How could he? And with cameras everywhere, I couldn’t let my frustration show. Instead, I turned and smiled at the press so they could take pictures of our happy family, even if it was all a lie.

“I know Adrienne and Bobby will do their best to bring DHR to the next generation of race junkies,” Dad laughed. “My girl is a chip off the old block.”

He pulled me into his side, and I let him. We smiled like he hadn’t just rocked the very ground we were standing on. It wasn’t like I expected to be handed DHR on a silver platter like a spoiled little girl, but I also didn’t think I was going to have to win it Hunger Games deathmatch style either.

“Well, that’s about it,” Dad said. He let me go, then turned to take his wife’s arm and walked back into the house. Bobby and I followed behind them.

I wasn’t sure how this would all play out, but I never thought Bobby would assume it was already his either.

“No hard feelings.” Bobby shrugged.

“Yeah,” I whispered.

“I’ll always make sure there’s a place for you at DHR,” he says, like it was a foregone conclusion that he’d beat me. I didn’t know if he thought only a man could win or lead the team. Or if I’m genuinely not a good driver. Either way, the thought spiral was doing nothing but pissing me off. There’s a whole season to win.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He smiled that stupid smile at me. “Like I said, no hard feelings, but I’m going to win.”

“We’ll see about that,” I muttered.

“You know it’s true.” I hate the way he’s acting. It’s gross.

We’re friends.

We were friends.

Until today.

“I don’t know anything other than you better be ready to race, because I have every intention of winning,” I told him, letting my own smile spread over my face. And I enjoyed watching his slip just a little bit.

“Now, Addie—” he started like I was dumb or some cute child who needs a gentle set down with a pat on top of her head. Fuck. That.

“Like you said, no hard feelings.”

And then Candy dropped the second bomb of the day.

The images finally fade away, and I let the night claim me. But sleep doesn’t last for long.

FOUR