Wreck Me (Corrupt Legacy Series #2)

“Mom—”

“I don’t know what to do anymore or how to stop you on this road of self-destruction. I thought racing was what you wanted?”

“It is.”

“Then why jeopardize that? Did something happen?”

I could tell her, but then she would blame herself when I know she just tried to protect me. It’s on fucking me because I know what will happen to me too. One day, the darkness will push me too hard, and I won’t be able to fight it off.

Just like him.

“It was fun.”

“Fun? This is not fun.” A tremor rocks her, and she collapses on the seat beside me.

“Your father is mad. I don’t know how to help you this time.”

“Like all the other times, get him off of me. He’s not my father.”

Even though at times I wish he were. Then I wouldn’t have the name I carry, the sickness I have. A legacy of burned tires and gray smoke.

“Sleep this night off. We’ll talk in the morning.”

I nod, and before she closes the door, she says, “I love you, honey.”

Love you too, Mom. Sorry for not being worth it.

Dragging myself to bed, I black out the moment my back hits the mattress.

***

The sun blazes through the windows, waking me. Fucktastic. I forgot to shut the curtains. A headache thumps behind my temples, but I ignore it.

I snatch my phone from the nightstand, blaring with notifications.

The video of the street race is online and has gone viral, showing me winning the championship and then winning the illegal race right afterward. Then I got out of my car and roared—I am a legend.

I scrub a hand down my face and notice the reddish patch on my arm. My chest hurts when I stand, most surely from the impact of the airbag.

My phone rings, and I accept the call from my team principal. From his deep sigh, I know my entire world is about to collapse.

My stepfather is not one to bullshit, and he’s the team owner.

“We can’t tolerate this behavior. You’re suspended indefinitely,” Mark says.

I hang up, throwing the phone to the wall. It falls apart, just like my life.

Fucking shit.

Going to the kitchen, I pour milk and some cereal into my bowl, thinking of how to fix my screw-up as I eat breakfast. I will just crawl up my stepfather’s ass, and he will forgive me, and then we can all move on. He owes me that.

I put the empty bowl in the dishwasher when I feel his booming presence behind me. Dark circles line his eyes. He unbuttons his suit jacket. Propping his hip against the kitchen island, he crosses his arms.

“Last night was a reminder of how I failed at parenting.”

“I’m not in the mood. Listen, they suspended me.”

“I know.”