“Sometimes the universe speaks in mysterious ways, Hannah. If you don’t mind, I’m going to step outside and call the sister I haven’t spoken to in decades.”
“Okay,” I agree, a little unsure of the events I may have sparked.
“Oh, and that reporter fella. What’s his name, Dale?”
I nod.
“Yes.”
“He’s downstairs. Said he needs to talk to you if you can. Said it isn’t about the story, but you know those reporter types.” Dustin’s uncle rolls his eyes and I play along with his distrust, though I’ve decided Dale is a genuine guy. He seemed to be really taken with Dustin’s motivation and his life story. He was at the track when the crash happened. Honestly? I have questions for him, too.
I wait for Dustin’s uncle to leave on his own before I find the stairs and trail down a floor to the main lobby. It’s busier than most hospitals, but this place leads the city for traumas and births, so I’d imagine there’s always someone looking for someone else in this space.
I spot Dale’s hat in the middle of the room, his body hunched over as though he’s reading. I step up behind him and catch him playing Candy Crush on his phone.
“Real highbrow kinda guy, huh?” I tease.
He jolts but smiles when his eyes take me in.
“Hannah. Thank God! How is he?”
I hug him on instinct. Scary shit like this makes strangers close.
“Major swelling in his brain.” It’s my one line and I repeat it to everyone who asks.
“That doesn’t sound good.” His eyes sag.
“They say his vitals are good and the swelling is coming down. They’re talking about reducing the meds. With some luck, we may hear his voice in the morning.”
Dale relaxes a little and holds his hand on his chest.
“That’s good news.”
I glance around his pile of things. He has a laptop bag, which makes me think Dustin’s uncle wasn’t too far off of his assessment, but he’s also collected a stack of magazines, which means he planned on waiting for news on Dustin, not only for a story but because he’s worried and cares. Why else would a man sift through a sixteen-year-old issue of Garden Goddess Life?
“I want to show you something.” Dale drops back into his chair and digs through his laptop bag, pulling out an envelope that’s ripped open at the top. He slips out a stack of papers filled with handwriting I instantly recognize. I grab the papers from him and flip my gaze to his.
“What is this?”
I round the end table and sit in the chair across from him to begin reading.
“Dustin told me not to read it until the end of the race. It seems he was planning on winning and there being some retribution. Hannah, is this . . . true?”
I hold up a finger and speed read as fast as I can. Dustin’s detailed everything, down to the first time he met Alex up in Vegas for some illegal racing. He’s logged every meeting he’s had with the man and all of the races and positions he had to come in based on Alex’s whims and desires. Seeing the list, how long it is, makes me sick to my stomach.
I glance up and find Dale’s eager eyes waiting. I refold the pages and hand them to him.
“Dale, you can’t print any of that. Not yet. But yes, it’s true. All of it.”
“Whoa.” Dale falls back in his seat, and I give him several seconds of silence to let his mind catch up. It’s a big info dump, and it feels so unreal. We don’t like to think that heroes can be corrupted, but Dustin was. Not by his own will, though. He was trapped. He was given no choice.
“I won’t print it. Not unless you tell me to or he does when he wakes up. But Hannah”—his eyes meet mine as he draws in a long breath—“I can’t help but think that Quin clipped his car on purpose. Someone didn’t want Dustin to win that race. And I’m thinking it was Quin’s job to make sure it didn’t happen.”
23
I love racing in the dark. Fools thought they could beat me this way but they had no idea. I can feel the road.
This track seems different, though. It’s not Texas anymore. I’m somewhere else, only I don’t remember finishing the last race. I don’t remember winning, or how I got to this place. The car hugs me, though, and that feels right. The rumble under my body is soothing, and I’m tempted to sleep, but that’s what they want—me falling asleep at the wheel.
Wouldn’t that make it easy for them?
I can’t see the road, only glimpses of the striped line when the moon clears from the clouds. My headlights don’t work. I can see his behind me, though. He’s chasing me. He’s been chasing me for hours. I can’t shake him, no matter how fast I drive. I don’t even know who I’m racing against, which . . . that’s strange.
It doesn’t matter. Any road. Any opponent. I’m winning. Hannah must be able to see me. She’s probably so proud. And Bristol. I wonder if she can see this race. Are they broadcasting it if it’s dark? How do they do that?
Wait! There she is. Hannah. She’s sleeping. Why is she sleeping? And how did she get that chair?
“Hannah!”
How can she not hear me? I’m screaming her name. Doesn’t she hear the car? It’s so loud out here. Maybe she can’t hear me over the engine.
“Hannah!”
There! She moved. Her eyelids twitched, and her arm slid forward. Her neck is going to hurt from sleeping like that for so long.
“Ha—” That’s all that comes out. It’s brighter now, but my voice doesn’t work. It crackles, and I can’t form a full word. Hannah is still here, though. We’re together. In this . . . room.
The crash.
“Ha—” I try again. She stirs and I work to keep my eyes open, to hold on to this world, the one she’s in. Her eyes blink wildly and my finger moves. I’m telling my hand to move but all I can get to work is my finger.
“Dustin!”
Thank God!
She leaps from the chair and rushes to the door, shouting. Her voice is so loud and my head is pounding.
Her hand wraps around mine a second later, and she helps me curve the rest of my fingers around hers.
I feel her. She’s so warm. My pulse is racing. Something is beeping. I feel hot, covered in sweat. And who are these people?
“Dustin? Can you hear me?” It’s another woman wearing all blue. Those are scrubs.
This is a hospital. Oh fuck! Oh no, oh no!
Someone holds down my arm and Hannah clings to my other hand.
“Dustin, you’re okay. They’re taking care of you. I need you to calm down. Just for now.” Hannah’s voice soothes me, but my pulse races right through her words. I hold her gaze, struggling to focus and stay locked on her. She’s the only thing I understand. The only thing that makes sense. I need her. I want to hold her. Our daughter. I want Bristol.
“This is going to be uncomfortable.” That warning comes from my right side, and I blink into a light above me as someone pulls something from my throat. I gag and Hannah squeezes my hand tighter.
Something is burning my arm. There’s an IV in my vein. What are they giving me? I don’t want anything. I want to feel the pain, whatever it is. I’m not Colt.