Page 120 of Dream Chaser

I handed Clara to him, then stared at my email. The draft was gone.

Sent. To Nova.

“What did you do?” Fernando asked Clara, bracing his hands on his hips. She giggled, like she hadn’t just fucking sent Nova a confession I’d rather die than let her read, then hid behind Fernando’s legs.

“Sorry.” Fer grimaced. “Dinner’s almost ready. Come join us when you’re done here.”

I was fucking done, because what the hell was I supposed to do now?

Nodding, I returned my attention to the laptop screen, where an automated out-of-office reply from Nova mocked me.

There must’ve been a way to unsend this, right? I grabbed my phone and opened my texts with Asher.

Me: Mi niño, I need help. Can you unsend an email you accidentally sent?

A second, then a reply popped up.

Asher: Accidentally sent to whom? The answer might depend.

Might depend? What the hell did he mean?

Me: To Nova, just say yes or no.

I rubbed my jaw, frustration climbing. The moving dots turned into a reply.

Asher: Man…

Me: ???

Asher: Bro…

Me: I’ll drop you next season. Go look for another agent.

My phone rang. I answered.

“I know you were kidding,” Asher said. “About dropping me. What the hell did you send Nova? Hopefully not a dick pic.”

“I’d rather it was that,” I said. “I sent her something I should’ve told her in person.”

He hummed. “I see. No, you can’t unsend it. You had a few seconds, I guess now it’s too late, man.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “Fuck, if you call me bro next, I will drop you.”

Asher chuckled. “Kaia and I are baking cookies. I can bring you some later.”

Code for I’m available if you need to talk. Too bad cookies reminded me of Clara and the mess she’d gotten me into.

“Okay,” I said. “If you’ve got nothing to do.”

“We were going to play cards with Grandma’s friends. Kaia says it’s okay if I go see you.”

I snapped the laptop shut. No more accidents. “Okay.” I exhaled. “I’ll be home.”

***

Asher parked in my driveway at ten p.m. I took the plate full of cookies he handed me and grabbed one. They smelled amazing, like butter and vanilla.

“Traded racing for baking?” I asked, biting off a chunk. “You’d thrive.”