he qualifying round is in just over a week. It's not that I'm nervous–I've been training every second to prepare myself for it–but there is always a part of me that wonders, am I making a mistake?

Am I even good enough?

All this lying I've been doing isn't easy, either. At breakfast, Mom can't stop gushing about how much I've come out of my shell since moving, how much I'm growing up. I have to look at my cereal, because meeting her gaze is proving too difficult. If she knew I've been lying about racing this whole time, I doubt she'd feel the same.

Dad comes in at one point, and I think about pulling him to the side to come clean. I still need parental permission for the race, and maybe I won't feel so guilty if I tell the truth to one of them, but it's too risky. There's a high chance that Dad would tell Mom, and Mom, in her fury, would ban me for life.

All of my prayers are answered at lunch when Niko comes up with a solution. "My dad owns the track," he reminds me. "Everyone there knows me. If I come with you to registration and say you're a guest of my dad, no one will question you." He grins and adds, "The perks of being a racing track heir."

Vanessa rolls her eyes and says, "You don't even like racing."

"Hey," Niko says. "I still get to reap the benefits, baby."

Vanessa goes to speak, but she stops when I fling my arms around Niko. "You just saved my life, Niko..."

He pulls back and grins. "Hutchinson."

I smile. "Niko Hutchinson, I'm going to buy you a milkshake."

"Thanks, I've always wanted one of those."

For the rest of the day, I don't worry about a thing. I've solved my biggest problem, which means I'm one step closer to making it to the tournament; I just have to focus.

I facetime Kianna in the evening to tell her the good news, and she can't stop squealing. She thinks I'm going to become a world-renowned racer and shoot us both to stardom; I don't have the heart to tell her otherwise.

"I have some good news, too," she says, and we spend the next ten minutes talking about her lead in the school play. Kianna has acted for as long as I can remember, but she's always been pigeon-holed as a background character, never the lead.

"I'm proud of you, Ki," I say. "All that practicing in front of the mirror has really paid off."

She grins and says, "I'm proud of you, too, Roxy. When we're finally reunited, we'll be an unstoppable force."

I laugh and look out the window, onto the moonlit street. "I think you're right."

wake up early to head to the track, excited to tell Tyler about my solution. He's waiting on the sidelines when I decide to sneak up, but he turns before I can scare him.

"Is that you trying to be stealthy?" he asks. "I could hear you a mile off."

"What are you, a vampire?"

He grins and steps closer. "Yeah, but the good kind. I only bite people who piss me off."

I tilt my head. "If that were the case you'd have bitten me by now." His eyes flit to my neck like he's contemplating it. I lightly shove him and say, "Don't look at me like that."

His gaze snaps back up. The look on his expression is filthy. "Like what, Roxanna?"

My pulse races. He has this way of turning a normal conversation into something sexual. "Like nothing. I have some good news."

He raises an eyebrow. "What is it?"

I can't contain my smile any longer. "Niko is going to get me into the qualifying round. I won't need parental permission."

Tyler stills at the mention of Niko. He doesn't look pleased. "And what does he want in return?"

I frown. "Nothing. Not everything has to be a transaction. Some people just do things out of the goodness of their heart."

"No," he says, "they don't, and you don't know them like I do. You do one of them a favor and they'll be asking for one right back." His phone buzzes, and he pulls it from his pocket before skimming the message. "Look, I need to run an errand. I'll be back in ten minutes, all right? Just practice on the first circuit until I get back."

"Practicing on the first circuit is a waste of time," I point out. "I'll just practice on the second one." I turn to grab my bike from the bay, but he grabs my hand and spins me into him.

"You're not riding that circuit alone."

I snatch my hand back. "Let's get one thing straight here. You don't get to tell me what to do."

He clenches his jaw like I'm starting to annoy him. "I'm not saying it to tell you what to do. I'm saying it because it's in the contract of your membership. You're not supposed to ride the other circuits alone–it's too dangerous."

"Oh." I straighten up like I knew this all along. "Fine, I won't ride the second one."

A second passes. He looks away. "On second thought, you're coming with me."

"What," I say, "you don't trust me?"

He leans in closer, allowing his eyes to flit my lips. "You don't exactly have the best track record when it comes to telling the truth."

I'm about to argue, but he's technically right. "Where are we going?"

"My house."

There isn't time for questions. I follow Tyler over to his Harley, and he drives us to the local store to pick up some groceries before heading to his house.

To no one's surprise, the house is a mansion. It's large and white, covered in an overgrowth of vines that creep up the side of several bay windows.

Tyler leads me into the hallway, which is wider than our living room, and I take in the pictures on the walls. There are hundreds of him and Alex in various stages of childhood, but also of their mom, which surprises me. If I were divorced, I don't think I could take having to look at my ex every day.

I pause in front of a picture of his parents. Tyler takes after his mother in many ways: they share the same light brown skin, dark eyes, and full lips. But that smile of Tyler's, and those wonderous dimples, are definitely his father.

Tyler heads into the living room, where his dad is sat in one of those old patchwork armchairs. He looks different from the photo I'd seen in the hallway. He's older, frailer, and his dark hair is now peppered with gray. There's a walking stick on the table by his chair, and he hooks it with his palm before getting to his feet.

"Ty, my boy," he says.

Tyler walks over and kisses his forehead. "Hey, Dad. I got the stuff you wanted." He opens up his bag and pulls out a selection of the junk food we bought.

Tyler's dad looks at me and smiles. "My daughter has me on some health kick," he explains. "It's too much sometimes, so Ty sneaks me in some snacks when he can. I'm Rico, by the way."

I smile and walk over to shake his hand. "Roxy. It's nice to meet you."

He turns back to Tyler and gives him this warm, tender look. "You ready for the tournament, Ty? Haven't been slacking on the training, have you? I know how difficult it is to go to college and train, but–" he turns to the mantelpiece, where countless pictures and trophies sit like a shrine to his glory days, "–it's worth it in the end."

Tyler follows his gaze and says quietly, "Is it?"

Mr. Wakeford's face falls, and my heart breaks a little. "My dad used to ride, too," I say in a bid to break the silence. "He doesn't quite have as many trophies as you, though."

Tyler's Dad grins. "There's more up in the attic," he says. "Those were just the ones that would fit. We could go up there and–"

"Maybe some other time, Dad," Tyler says. "We've got to get going. I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

Rico looks disappointed but nods. He hugs Tyler tightly, then me. I tell him it was lovely to meet him and follow Tyler back to his bike.

Back at the track, I climb off the Harley and say, "I thought Alex said you didn't visit."

Tyler lifts my helmet off for me and puts it in the back. "I don't visit when she visits."

We walk to the start of the track in silence. It's strange to see Tyler outside of the track. I'm so used to him playing the role of the trainer that I forget he has a life outside of here.

"There were a lot of pictures of your mom in your house," I say.

"I know." He looks into the distance and says, "My dad's still in love with her."

I raise my eyebrows. "Really? I always figured people who get divorced do it because they end up hating each other."

"Not always," he says. "My mom still loved him and he loved her, but she was sick of the racing. Growing up, my dad wasn't around much. He was touring or doing promotions, or he'd be at the track with Alex and me. I guess she got tired of it." He looks over now, and I notice the hurt in his eyes. "She left us. My dad never forgave himself."

It was similar to my own story, but whereas his mom left, my mom stayed. "I'm sorry."

"Way of the world, I guess." He turns to look at me, lowering his gaze to my lips. "We can't always get what we want."

I force myself to turn away. The butterflies are back, but the more time I spend with him, the warier I am of them. "We should try to get some practice in."

We spend the next ten minutes racing on the second circuit. I've finally gotten used to the power of this bike, so I push it to its limits, zipping over hills and thundering through the air before crashing back down on the dirt.

My thighs ache and burn from the pressure of the bike, but none of it compares to the feeling of freedom that burns through my veins. I understand why Tyler's dad is so proud of all those trophies, why he looks back fondly on his glory days. For some of us, this is as good as it gets.

I'm hurtling toward the finish line when I spot my mother on the sidelines. My body seizes up, and the front wheel of my bike starts to jump around wildly before I manage to gain back control.

I pull up to the finish line and pray she doesn't recognise me. Disguised by my new gear and bike, her eyes skim past right me before she turns and spots Alex. I'm searching for somewhere to hide when Alex points in my direction.

My mother turns and freezes. A towering frame walks up behind me, but I don't have to turn to know it's Tyler. "Who's that woman looking at us?"

My eyes don't leave hers. "That would be my mother."

She walks right up to us, tight-lipped, and holds out my phone. "Here," she says. "You left it at home. I know how much you can't function without it." Then, without a word, she turns and walks off.

❤️