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Now I do a double take.

Theo usually skips working out with a trainer, opting to follow his own half-assed regimen.

A few other drivers come in after him.

“You missed out last night,” Knox says as Theo takes up residence on the treadmill.

I start to respond that I had other things to do, but Theo’s the one who answers.

“Figured I’d have an early night.” My brother hits the incline and starts to run.

Theo skipped a party for a good night’s sleep? There’s a first.

Thirty minutes later, we both move to the Batak board.

“After you,” Theo says, gesturing to the vertical panel with light-up targets arranged in a grid.

I hit the button for sprint mode, where you have to hit as many as possible in thirty seconds.

“Remember when we raced karts?” he says as I start my session, my brain focused on slapping the buttons as fast as possible when they light up. “You won every time.”

“It wasn’t every time.” I finish, my score displaying across the top as I catch my breath.

“Sixty-two,” Theo reads. “Nice.”

We switch places.

He starts and he’s slower. But he builds.

When the buzzer goes, the display says sixty. I blink as the smile spreads across his face.

“You usually come in the fifties,” I say.

“I’ve been coming here all week to practice. Winning at Shotgun on my birthday reminded me that all I need is one win.”

I finish my workout and head for the sauna. Knox follows me to the dry sauna in the corner. The window has a view of the rest of the gym, and I watch Theo continue to work diligently.

“It’s weird, right?” Knox says.

I tilt my head back, ignoring the bead of sweat tracing its way down my face.

“Someone got in his head,” Knox says, and I know immediately who it was.

Townie.

I spotted her walking in the rain, her hair plastered to her face, steps heavy with defeat.

I’d been angry with my father for how he was handling things, and feeling out of control, and when I saw her trudging along the road miles from school, I didn’t want to see one more person beat down by the world.

It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have pulled up next to her, or insisted she get in. I definitely shouldn’t have told her to stay in school. Jameson Ashford, guidance fucking counselor, reporting for duty.

“She’s not his type,” I hear myself say. Theo’s usual flings are flashy, outgoing partiers who want to see and be seen.

“I’d go there.” Knox shifts on the bench, extending both legs and leaning against the wall.

I’m remembering the feel of her behind me on the Ducati again, her curves pressed against my back. How her pulse felt under my fingers in the car, accelerating under her soft wrist. My hand migrates to my abs, scratching the bare skin damp with sweat. “Got other things on my mind.”

“Right. Driving first, last, only, huh?”