Redeemed (Dirty Air Series Book 4)

I should’ve expected Chloe to join me on my trip to the racetrack. She didn’t bother mentioning how she called Noah and asked for the information herself so she could take the day off of work. I underestimated her commitment to seeing this process through, and now that we are here, I appreciate it.

Her presence makes the experience lighter. More manageable. It holds me accountable to make it through today, no matter how hard it gets. I don’t want to disappoint her. And most of all, I don’t want to disappoint myself.

Today isn’t about making my family happy, or even Chloe. It’s about proving to myself that I can get back out there. I can have the comeback I dreamed of if I only commit to the hard work.

A skeleton crew hangs around the test track. Noah stands off to the side, running through sheets of paper with James. Seeing my old boss and Noah working together again hits me differently than before. This time, it’s not about Noah’s racing or his competition. It’s about getting me in the damn car.

My eyes drop to the gray tarp with the Bandini logo. This is it. 

A crew member drops a tire as my eyes land on them, and the wheel rotates in my direction.

Noah lifts his head at the noise and meets my gaze. “Look who finally showed up.”

I told him he didn’t have to come, but he said he wouldn’t miss this moment. It’s not as if I could tell him no, especially if he had a week off between races.

“I’m on time, asshole.”

James crosses his arms over his massive chest. “If you’re not early—”

“You’re late,” Noah and I reply at the same time.

“Some things never change.” James smiles at the two of us. He walks up to me and offers his hand. “I’m happy to have you back here.”

I swallow back the lump in my throat. “I know.”

James nods before looking at Chloe. “Nice to see you again. When I met you at the Monza gala, I didn’t realize how much power you had over our grumpy racer over here.” James nudges his head in my direction.

Chloe shakes her head. “Power would insinuate I have control over him.”

“Never underestimate yourself.” James smiles.

“She’s modest but she’s been a big help.” I smile down at her and wrap my arm around her waist. “And beating Noah in our hot-laps match was the real motivator.”

“I let you win,” Noah calls out with a smile.

“Spoken like a true loser.”

Chloe muffles her laugh with her palm.

James’s head snaps between the three of us. A crew member calls for him, and he turns back to me. “I’ll be on the radio helping you with whatever you need. There’s no need to rush anything about this process. You’re here to test out a car and have a good time.”

“I got it.”

“I mean it. No pressure. Let’s have some fun and burn some gas.” He walks away once I give him one last nod of understanding.

Noah tugs at the tarp covering the Bandini car. The glossy red paint glistens under the afternoon sun, hitting me with a flood of memories. I take a hesitant step forward and run my hand across the sleek hood.

I take my time walking around the entire car, enjoying how it shines. My eyes mist as I assess the steering wheel Noah helped create. It’s an exact replica of the one I’ve been practicing with at home. The car looks the same as my old one, except for the added throttle paddle bar on the steering wheel.

I take a deep breath and place a tentative hand on the wheel.

“I hope you like it. Be gentle on me these first couple of test runs. I have a different driving style than you, but I’ve studied enough of your tapes to know how you like your ride.” Noah stands beside me.

“I can’t believe you did all this.”

“You’re a brother to me.” He places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a squeeze.

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Three years of silence is long enough, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it is,” I whisper under my breath. “Thank you.”

Noah tugs me in for a hug. “Thank me when you get on a real racetrack and compete against everyone else. Someone as talented as you shouldn’t spend their prime racing years wasting away.”

I nod my head. Crew members bring me gear to change into, and I take my time in the dressing room inside of the garage. I fumble through the motions, fighting the tremble in my hands as I zip up the fireproof suit.

What if I crash this car? Is there a spare wheel? Will James even want me back if I can’t handle a simple test run? 

I lean against the counter and hang my head.

A soft knock against the door pulls me away from my thoughts.

“Just a minute.”

The doorknob rattles.

“I said to give me a minute.”

“It’s me.” Chloe’s voice is muffled by the door.

I unlock the door without thinking. If there is anyone who has seen me at my worst, it’s her. What’s the point of bringing her here if I don’t let her help me when I need it most?

I turn my back toward her as she steps into the small space. She offers me a meek smile through the mirror.

“Wow. That’s how you look when you’re all dolled up.” She bites her lip.

The way she says it has me throwing my head back and laughing.

“It’s unfair, you know?” She walks up behind me, gesturing for me to turn around.

I do what she asks and lean my ass against the counter. “What’s unfair?”

“How you can look that good in something so horrendous.”

I tilt my head at her, fighting the smile begging to make an appearance. “Some women love the suit.”

“That? How can they? It leaves nothing to the imagination!” She mockingly gasps. “Is that an outline of your…package?” she cups her mouth, leans in, and whispers.

“I don’t know. Care to find out?” I wink.

“Oh, sure.” She steps into my space.

I lean back against the counter and tug her into my body. The limited square footage of the bathroom doesn’t give us much room. She tilts her head back, her eyes remaining locked on mine as her hand trails down the front of my race suit. My skin heats from her touch.

Her hand stops right above the area throbbing for her attention. “I’ll wait until after you race to find out.” She giggles and steps out of my grasp.

“What?” I sputter, trying to haul her back into my chest.

She shakes her head, evading my grasp. “No touching until after you test the car. Consider it collateral.”

I grin at her reference. “Do I at least get a kiss for good luck?”

She looks up at the ceiling as if she needs to contemplate it.

I grab onto her hips and pull her flush against my body. My hand grips onto the back of her neck while my lips crush hers. Our kiss is a frenzy. Quick, energetic, and everything I needed to calm me down before getting out there.

It’s as if this girl knows exactly what to do without ever having to ask me. I’m definitely falling for her, and instead of fearing it, I accept it wholeheartedly.

I only hope she feels the same way. If how she kisses me is any indication, I might be safe.

She pulls away from my hold. “That’s it. No more kissing until after.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

Chloe smiles over her shoulder as she opens the door. The buzz from the garage echoes through the small space.

Damn. Chloe didn’t just steal a piece of my heart. She carved her initials into it, branding me for life.

Entering the car, while awkward without my prosthetic, is easy. While I hate needing help, my safety is more important. My doctor recommended against driving with my prosthetic just in case another accident happens. It would become more of a liability than a help in that kind of circumstance, and more risk than it’s worth.

Even the mechanics pulling me up to the checkered line and James prepping me over the team radio goes without a hitch. But pushing my mind to its breaking point in order to move past my trauma? Now that is hard as fuck.

The engine purrs behind my back, reminding me of old race day sensations I blocked from my mind. Before, memories of the past brought me pain, and pain caused depression. But now, with me sitting in the race car, everything feels real again.

There’s a power about being behind the wheel. A mix of adrenaline and a God complex, intertwined to create athletes who test their limits each and every day.

I want to be that guy again. I want to be that guy so damn badly, I’m willing to work through the bad memories and stress to get there. Because in the end, broken champions don’t make history.

I look forward and focus on the road. The car rattles, and I’m sucked into a vortex. Images flood my brain. Tires squeal, and I rush to press my hands on my helmet. Something shudders against my back before metal scrapes. The humidity clings to my race suit, making my breathing heavy. Paved roads in front of me fade into rain-slick pavement.

Fuck. Not another flashback. I grab onto my stump and grind my teeth together. The motion grounds me, bringing me back to the present. Reminding me who and where I am.

This isn’t the same track. This isn’t that day. Breathe.

“Are you ready, Santi?” James speaks into the radio embedded in my ear.

I take a few deep breaths, regulating my heart rate. “About as ready as one can be after everything.”

“Remember what I told you. No one is expecting you to be an all-star on day one. It took Noah months before he could get a handle on the wheel, and you know how much of a perfectionist he is.”

I doubt it took Noah that long to master these controls, but I appreciate James’s comment nonetheless. “Let’s do this.” I tighten my fists around the grips of the steering wheel.

The crew steps away from the car. I mess with the toggles, familiarizing myself with the feel of them in my hands.

“Start with the throttle. Take it easy and test it out. It’s just like the sim lab.”

I lightly pull on the throttle. The engine purrs behind my back, rumbling as the car pushes forward faster than anticipated. Before I lose control, I smash the brake pedal with my left foot. My body jolts and my helmet smacks into the headrest. Tires squeal in submission and metal shudders around me as the car halts its movement.

“I said take it easy. That is not easy!” James laughs into the mic.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

“Sorry, you reminded me of Marko trying out his first kart in the pit lane.”

“Seriously, you’re comparing my driving to my four-year-old nephew? Way to build my confidence.”

James chuckles. “Okay, let’s try that again. You just need to get a feel for the throttle paddle and trust your gut. The brakes are the same as the old left foot pedal.”

“Okay, I got this,” I whisper to myself.

I try the same motion, this time giving my car the ability to make it down the straight before hitting the brakes again. It’s a slow start, but the wind rushing over the front wing has me smiling beneath my helmet.

“Much better! See, that’s what I mean by easy. You’re a natural out there,” James offers.

I stare at the first corner, wondering how I can manipulate the wheel, the throttle, and the brake at once. Worried thoughts eat away at my budding confidence.

“Now this is where things get tricky. You’re going to have to turn the wheel at the same time as you release the throttle, while monitoring the brake pedal beneath your foot. It’s all mental.”

I go through the motions in my head, attempting to commit the move to muscle memory. It’s not easy. Sweat drenches my back as I struggle to control the brake pedal and the throttle paddle simultaneously.

I tug on the throttle paddle, forcing the car to speed through the turn rather than slow down. My sneaker slams against the brake and my car spins. Tires shriek as the car halts.

Shit. Something in the car sputters as the steering wheel’s lights flash before going out.

“Battery is dead. Good try with the turn. You’ll get a handle on it eventually.” James speaks with such sincerity.

All I can do is scowl at the wheel. The Bandini crew comes to secure my car and push me back toward the garage. I stew in my toxicity, allowing it to cloak the post-driving glow.

Chloe runs out into the pit lane with a huge grin plastered across her face. The sun shines down on her, highlighting the flush in her cheeks.

I don’t understand the smile on her face. I failed. Plain and simple. She wouldn’t be smiling if she saw what I used to be able to accomplish on the track.

“Oh my God. You did it!” She runs up to the cockpit and leans over the edge.

I pass the steering wheel to the mechanic and tug my helmet off my head. “Did what? Stall on the first turn?”

“No!” She laughs melodically as she grabs onto both my cheeks, forcing me to look at her. “You got in the car and drove. You. Did. It.”

I soak in her positivity like the earth soaks up rain after a drought.

Noah strolls onto the track, assessing the car before offering me his hand. “Nice work out there.”

“You’re both acting like I won a race rather than tested a car.”

Noah shakes his head. “I kind of miss the old cocky you. He was a hell of a lot more fun than this self-deprecating version.”

Chloe turns away, hiding her laugh.

I lift a brow. “You find this funny?”

“Who, me?” She presses a palm against her chest and flutters her lashes.

“Yes. Why are you laughing?”

She shrugs. “Because Noah’s right. You kind of kill the vibes.”

I frown. “You want me to be all self-love, now?”

“Honestly, yes. I think we owe it to ourselves to unapologetically love who we are no matter what. Because if you don’t love yourself, then why do you expect anyone else to?”

I contemplate what she says. Noah pulls Chloe’s attention away, talking to her about racing statistics and the secret behind the wheel he created.

If I don’t love myself, then who will? And what kind of love am I asking for if I’m hell-bent on showing the worst version of myself, time and time again.

Is that who I want to be? The guy who gives up after one time because things got hard?

No. The opposite of a winner isn’t a loser. It’s the person who allows the loss to ruin any chance of trying again. The defeatist attitude needs to stop. Right here. Right now.

I clutch onto the wheel, running a finger across the sensitive throttle paddle. “Hey, Noah?”

“What’s up?”

“Do you have an extra battery in the garage?”

“Of course.”

“What do you say about testing the car out again?”

Noah smirks. “I thought you’d never ask.”