138

The road stretched endlessly before us, a narrow ribbon of cracked asphalt cutting through the golden fields. The car hummed, the steady purr of the engine beneath Dominic’s grip the only constant sound aside from the occasional uneven thump of tires rolling over imperfections in the road. The chaos we had left behind felt like a fever dream. I was leaning against the window now, my temple pressed to the glass, the heat of the midday sun still lingering there despite the wind that rushed in through the open space. My hair whipped against my cheek, tangled strands catching at my lips, but I didn’t push them away. I let the wind take them, let it take everything—the sweat drying in places it shouldn’t be. It was the first moment of stillness we’d had since everything exploded back in the city, but even now, my heart still thudded with a restless, uneasy rhythm.

Adam had fallen asleep in my lap, his small body curled toward me, as if even in unconsciousness he was seeking whatever comfort he could get. His cheek was warm where it pressed against my thigh, his breath slow, rhythmic, the way only a child’s could be after complete exhaustion. One of his arms was tucked beneath his chest, the other still gripping the strap of his backpack as though it was the last thing anchoring him. It was the kind of bag a ten-year-old would pick out for himself, thinking it was the coolest thing in the world, carrying it around like a prized possession. The sight of it, along with the rise and fall of his tiny frame, sent a pang through my chest.

I had him. I finally had him.

It still didn’t feel real.

For so many years, I had only been able to imagine what it would be like to hold him, to feel his weight against me, to know what it was like to be a mother in the way I had been robbed of. I had told myself not to think about it too much, because that kind of pain, lingering on it, feeding it, could tear a person apart. But now, with my fingers tangled gently in his dark curls, tracing the shape of his ear, feeling his tiny fingers twitch in sleep, I couldn’t stop.

I had missed everything. His first word, his first steps. I had missed birthdays and Christmases, the way his voice must have changed as he got older. I had missed the way he probably smiled when he was excited, or the way his nose scrunched when he was upset. All those little things I had tried not to think about for the sake of my own sanity were now crashing into me all at once.

I should have been the one tucking him into bed at night. The one holding his hand when he was scared. The one telling him everything would be okay. And now, after everything, I didn’t even know if I could promise him that.

The road stretched on, the sun dipping lower into the sky, melting into streaks of soft orange and pale pink. We were miles away from the city now, the buildings replaced by wide, open land. Fields of green and gold stretched on both sides, a few trees scattered in the distance, their leaves rustling against the wind. There were old farmhouses tucked back behind long, dirt driveways, some abandoned, some still standing with rusted mailboxes and faded fences barely holding up. It was the kind of scenery that made you forget about the rest of the world, forget that somewhere back there, people were still living their normal lives. It was almost peaceful. If I let myself, I could almost pretend none of it had happened.

Almost.

I shifted my attention to Tina, who was slumped in the front passenger seat, her hand pressed against her side. Her face was paler now, her forehead slick with sweat despite the wind coming in through the window. She had her eyes closed, but I could see the way her jaw clenched every time Dominic hit a small bump in the road.

“You still with us?” I asked, my voice quieter now, careful not to wake Adam.

Tina cracked one eye open, just barely. “Unfortunately.”

I huffed a small, breathy laugh, shaking my head. “You should try to stay awake.”

“I know.” She winced, adjusting her position slightly, her fingers curling tighter around the fabric of her shirt where the blood had soaked through. “Hurts like a bitch, though.”

I hesitated. “Tell me something, then. Something to keep your mind off it.”

She gave me a tired glance, as if debating whether or not she had the energy to argue. Eventually, she sighed, rolling her head against the seat to face me better. “Like what?”

“I don’t know. Tell me about yourself.”

Tina let out a humorless snort. “What, you wanna bond now?”

I shrugged. “It’s either that, or you pass out, and we have to listen to Dominic freak out about it.”

At that, she let out something that almost sounded like a laugh. “Okay, fine.” She exhaled heavily. “I lived in Miami for a while. Back when I was younger. Hot as hell, but I loved it.”

“Miami?” I raised an eyebrow. “What were you doing there?”

“I was a racer,” she said simply.

I blinked, caught off guard. “Like, an actual racer?”

Tina nodded, a small smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. “Illegal street racing. Used to win a lot, actually.” She gestured vaguely toward the car we were in. “This one? Won it in my last game before I quit.”

I looked around at the vehicle, suddenly seeing it in a new light. It wasn’t just a car. It was something she had earned. A trophy in its own way. “That’s... actually kind of cool.”

Tina huffed. “Yeah, well. It was a while back.”

I turned my head slightly, my gaze flickering toward Dominic. I already knew that would pique his interest, and I was right. His posture shifted, leaning forward slightly, his eyes locked onto Tina like he had just found something worth his time.

“What games were you in?” Dominic asked, his voice low but eager. “Any of the big leagues? Or just small runs?”

Tina smirked at him, as if she recognized a fellow racer’s curiosity. “Started with small runs, but it didn’t take long before I got invited to the bigger circuits. Midnight Rush, Fire & Asphalt, even did a couple of races for the Phantom Syndicate before I called it quits.”

Dominic let out a low whistle. “Phantom Syndicate? Shit, those guys don’t play around. They run some of the riskiest tracks in the country. You must’ve been damn good to survive their circuit.”

Tina chuckled. “I was. You?”

Dominic grinned, a rare flicker of excitement lighting up his expression. “I ran with the Inferno Crew back in the day. Started when I was nineteen, stopped at twenty-one. Did a lot of city sprints, drag races, but my real thing was endurance runs. Long stretches of open highway, full throttle. That’s where the real adrenaline kicks in.”

“Inferno Crew, huh?” Tina mused. “I heard about them once. Miami runners?”

“We moved around, but yeah, Miami was a big spot for us. You probably know some of the guys I used to run with.”

“Probably,” Tina admitted. “Why’d you quit?”

Dominic exhaled through his nose, a slow breath. “Got too dangerous. Started out fun, y'know? The thrill, the wins, the money. But then you watch too many people wipe out. Some don’t walk away from it. Some don’t make it out at all.” He glanced at the dashboard, his fingers absently tapping against his knee. “Had a close call myself. Spun out on an interstate run, nearly flipped. My tires shredded, and I swear I saw my life flash in front of me. That was enough.”

Tina nodded, her smirk dimming. “Yeah. That’s why I left, too. That last game? The one I won this car in? It wasn’t just a win. It was survival. Two guys didn’t make it.”

Dominic was a fucking liar.

I knew the real story, or at least, the version of it he had given me. Vaughn’s men had been after him during a race. They had cornered him, run him off the road. He had almost flipped over the edge of a bridge, would have died, should have died, but someone had found him. Adeline? Or had it been her father, Bunny? My memory blurred. It had only been a few days since he told me, but everything since then had been hell. I could barely think straight, let alone recall every detail. Brain fog? Exhaustion? I didn’t know. That was the last time I had seen him until he reappeared. 

The memories of that time though, still clear. Dominic and I had been living together back then. I was eighteen, he was twenty-one. I remember how he would leave late at night, slipping out of our shared apartment without a word. I remember how I would hear the sound of his car roaring down the street, the faint scent of gasoline lingering in the air even hours after he was gone.

He’d come back in the dead of night, sometimes bruised, sometimes with his knuckles split from fights that followed bad races. Other times, he wouldn’t return until the next morning, his body exhausted, his eyes red-rimmed from pushing limits no one should push.

And I had hated it. Hated that feeling of uncertainty, of waiting for the phone to ring with bad news. Hated the way he thrived on the rush, how he would come home high on adrenaline, his hands shaking, his pulse still racing like he never left the track.

Tina shifted in her seat, watching Dominic carefully. “Do you miss it?” she asked.

Dominic was quiet for a moment, then he gave a small, almost reluctant smile. “Sometimes. But not enough to go back.”

Tina nodded. “Same.”

I let out a slow breath, my fingers brushing through Adam’s hair again. The wind howled through the windows, filling the space between us.

Life goes on.

Whether you want it to or not.