Wreck Me (Corrupt Legacy Series #2)

“Hurt changes people, but Kaden, you still love her. Maybe you should let her see that.”

“She is with someone else. I can see that she doesn’t give a fuck.”

“We implied that we’re together. That doesn’t help either.”

“To protect her, Abi, because I’d take her hate than risk her well-being.”

I know that. I have done the same.

My car flies across the finish line, pocketing another win. Exhaling in relief, pride settles in my chest. I close my eyes for a moment, and that potent mix of adrenaline and exhilaration makes me feel invincible.

I climb out of my car, pumping my arms in the air. My team congregates around me, and I dive right into them as they hold me up.

Cheers explode in the crowds, almost deafening me.

Another win brings me closer to where I want to be—the ultimate race champion.

After the celebration madness ends, I get out of my race suit and take a long shower to relax my muscles.

Images of Abigail invade my mind. In vain, I’ve tried to cure myself of this obsession. I can’t go on like this, or I am going to end up a nutcase. That’s why I decided to return to Greenville and face my feelings for her. While the episodes are still there, I have myself under control. They don’t make me want to crawl out of my skin and burn the world down in the process. I have a strict daily routine that helps me cope.

When I come out, my father steps inside the break room and asks, “Are you sure this is the right decision?”

I’m stable and have come a long way from the boy with a broken heart. The only positive thing I came back with has been my determination. That’s how I have dominated the competition for the last two seasons. Even some commentators said I might outgrow my father’s legacy. I don’t even care about that. Racing anchors me. It’s my happy place.

Do I love winning? Of fucking course. But what I love even more is the feeling of being in my race car, pushing myself and the F1 car to its limits. I feel alive, and that’s the feeling I need to keep me going.

Worry lines his eyes, and I say, “Dad, trust me.”

He places a hand on my shoulder, giving me a little squeeze. “I’m so proud of you. But worrying is part of my job, son.”

“I’m good.”

“Don’t stay up late.”

I snort. “Yeah, right.”

I have turned into a monk, and parties are the last thing on my mind. In order to keep my illness under control, I need a stable environment—nothing that excites my nerve cells. I have stayed away from booze, distractions, and women. Winning trophies doesn’t come close to winning over my fucked up brain.

I call my best friend, and Alec says, “You fucking rocked it.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Out of all the tracks, it has to be the one near Greenville? I remember how you came back, a damn wreck. Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say, hanging up.

I can’t keep going on like this, constantly thinking of her. I have to get over Abigail.

Yes, right, that’s why you’re wanting to make her dreams come true. That’s why you win race after race, being motivated that she might watch you.

Thoughts of her swirl in my head, chasing away my sanity. I’m playing with fire, but I can’t allow myself to get burned a second time.

***

My father is on his phone organizing the last aspects of the team’s move, while I play a racing video game in the backseat. The driver is taking us back home after my big win in Las Vegas.

I seek my father’s eyes. “I promise I won’t disappoint you. Thank you for trusting me.”