he next few days are spent recovering in bed – not just from my accident, but from everything that happened with Tyler. I keep replaying that night in the parking lot on repeat, scrutinizing every word he'd said. While the logic part of me knows that deep down he's in the right, we could have worked things out. But the fact he chose to leave after telling me I could trust him proves what I've known all along: falling for Tyler was a mistake.

Mom comes in at one point to ask if I'm well enough for school, but I barely utter a mumble. I feel bruised and pathetic as I curl in a ball, which is everything I've tried to avoid. My focus should be on racing, on finding a way to win the upcoming tournament, but instead, my thoughts are overrun by him.

Mom perches herself on the edge of my bed, silent at first, then reaches out to brush back my hair. "Does this have anything to do with that boy we caught you in the kitchen with?"

"No."

"Because if it does, one word from you and I'll send a hitman to his house."

I lift my head a little. Hating Tyler would certainly make things easier. I could focus my energy on racing instead, using my hatred to beat him. But knowing I'm the one who wrecked this makes hating him impossible – the only one I hate is myself.

I settle back down into the folds of my duvet. "If you've got a hitman on speed dial, we've got bigger problems."

She smiles a little, but it's hard not to see the concern behind her eyes. "Well, you can have the day off today, and whenever you want to talk about it, I'm here."

"Thanks." I pause, and then, "How's Dad doing?" The checkup they'd gone to hadn't quite gone as well as they'd hoped, and while Mom has tried her best to stay optimistic, the doctor made it clear that walking again may not be in Dad's future. As a result, he's confined himself to his bedroom.

"Not so good," she says, "but we'll get through it. We always do."

We always do. She sounds so certain, like any other outcome is downright impossible, but what if we don't? What happens when the day comes that hope gives way to despair? I'm not sure my mother would cope.

"You know, I think I will go to school," I say. Anything beats sitting around overthinking.

"Good," Mom says, getting to her feet, "because my daughter is not the type to mope in bed over a boy. Plus, breakfast is ready."

As soon as she leaves, I climb out of bed, this time without as much pain, and throw on some clothes before heading downstairs. Breakfast is French toast – my favorite – with freshly squeezed orange juice, and as I take my seat, watching as my mom arranges Dad's breakfast on a tray, I realize we don't deserve her.

"I love you," I say as she sidesteps past me, and she stops to turn on her heel. "And no, I haven't done anything wrong," I add. "I just feel like you don't hear it enough."

Her face brightens in a way I haven't seen in a while. Sometimes, in the chaos, it's easy to forget how much others are suffering, too. How much we take for granted.

"Well, I love you too," she says, and she carries Dad's breakfast to his room with a spring in her step.

o my relief, school provides the distraction I've sorely needed. The morning passes in a dissociative blur like I'm here but not really here. Between Tyler, my dad, and the tournament, it feels like I'm one push away from falling off a cliff.

At lunch, I head to my locker to put away my things and find Vanessa and Niko waiting for me. They're wearing the same match expression of concern, so I know something's up.

Niko steps forward and throws his arms around me. "I heard Tyler's not training you anymore."

"You heard?" I pull away from his death grip bear hug and look between them frantically. "From who?"

"My brother," he says.

"How did he know?"

Niko shrugs. "He somehow knows everything and nothing. It's one of his few – and I mean very few – talents."

I sigh and lean against my locker. It's bad enough that I don't have a trainer for the tournament – now everyone at the track knows about it.

"What happened between you two?" Vanessa asks. "Did you have a fight or something?"

"Kind of." I proceed to tell them everything that happened, from the accident and lying to Tyler to him finding out and ditching me. The pair listen carefully as I ramble on and on, needing to get it all out. When I'm finally finished, I turn to Niko. I have no idea how Sam found out, but I'm praying it's not because Tyler told him. "Did your brother say anything else?"

"Nah, just that this better not affect your chance of winning. He said he's got a lot of money riding on you."

I shudder at the mention of the bet. He's not the only one with money riding on me. If I don't win this tournament, I'll not only be a loser but a broke one. "Well, that's just peachy."

"Look, forget about it," Niko says before throwing an arm around my shoulder. "Not just my brother and Tyler, but racing. This is your chance to have a mini-break from it all, Roxy. Spend the rest of the week recovering and clear your head. Then, when you're healed, you can always get Alex to train you, right?"

"I guess," I say, mulling it over. As much as I've wanted to focus on racing, maybe Niko is right. Another few days and my ribs won't hurt at all, which means I can train harder than ever. Until then, I may as well enjoy my new free time. "I'd have to ask Alex and see if she's willing."

"You can ask her tonight," Niko says, "when you invite her to Mojack's, and while you're busy doing that, ask her what she thinks of me."

I shift away from him and say, "Why don't you ask her that yourself on a date?"

"Whoa, whoa," he says, putting his hands up. "You don't jump straight to date before establishing a mutual attraction first."

"How are you going to establish a mutual attraction until you actually speak to her?" I ask.

His face falls. "I haven't thought that far ahead."

Vanessa slams shut my locker for me, making us jump. "As thrilling as this topic is, we're missing lunch."

"Sorry, boss," Niko says, and the three of us link arms as we head toward the cafeteria, where I count down the minutes until home time.

espite wanting to spend the rest of the evening in bed, Niko was serious about Mojack's. At eight p.m, he pulls up to the house in his new pickup truck and says, "Get in loser, we're going shopping."

Vanessa, who had been busy scrolling through her playlist until now, rolls her eyes. "We're not going to stay long, right? There's a new episode of Snowpiercer on tonight."

Niko lets out an expanse of air before reversing onto the street. "You, Ness, need to live a little," and then he's zooming down the residential street to Jay-Z's ninety-nine problems like we've stepped into the nineties.

I lean back against my headrest and run a hand through my freshly straightened hair. The last thing I want is to run into Tyler – I don't think I could handle another confrontation – but a small part of me is desperate to see him. Not seeing him this long has left a hole in my chest, one not even riding can fill.

"I second not staying long," I say as we pull up to Mojack's, because a voice in my head won't stop telling me what a terrible idea this is. What if Tyler sees me and remembers he hates my guts? Or worse, what if he's completely indifferent? My fragile ego couldn't take it.

We climb out of the truck and head inside to join the chaos. The music is thumping, and it's impossible to make it through the sea of sweaty bodies until Niko grabs my arm and pulls me toward the bar. With a quick scan of the place, he frowns. "I don't see Alex."

I nod, but I'm barely even listening. I'm too busy scanning the faces for his, but he's nowhere to be found. I sigh a little, about to turn back to the bar when I spot him. He's over at a table with a few of his friends, and glued to his side like a barnacle on a boat is a pretty brunette.

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