Good Boy by Megan Lowe

Chapter 41

When I get to the Skids, there’s a buzz going around the assembled masses. Seems word got out about Cav’s and my race.

It’s been two days since he found Thomas and me, and he hasn’t been in school since. I’ve tried calling him, but he’s disconnected his “James” number once again.

Jase has been talking to him, I think. He won’t tell me or let me talk to him, so I’m not really sure.

I’ve tried to have a conversation with Thomas several times, but every time he dodges it, spinning the conversation and leaving before I can get to the point. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he knows what’s coming and is trying to avoid it. But he can’t, can he?

Regardless of what happens with Cav, I know things with Thomas have to end. Really, they never should’ve started in the first place. I know that now.

As I pull in, I’m directed to the start line, Cav’s Chevelle already there, waiting. I park and turn off the car. Kevin greets me.

“Holy shit, boy. This is insane!”

I chuckle.

“I’ve had people texting me from all parts asking me about this race. People want to see what that R-SPEC can do, especially against Cav’s Chevelle.”

“Glad I could help,” I tell him.

“So you’re good with everything, right?”

I nod. “I’m good.”

“I have to admit this whole thing took me off guard a little. Cav’s not usually so… reckless. He races for cash or the glory. I’ve never heard of him offering the pink slip before.”

“Guess I bring it out in him, then.”

He laughs and slaps me on the shoulder. “Whatever you do, keep doing it.”

I nod. “Will do.”

“We’ll get going in a minute. Just have to do a quick check and we’re good to go.”

“Sounds good.”

I look over to Cav, who’s shooting daggers at me.

“Can we talk?” I ask as I make my way over to him.

“Nothing to talk about,” he says, giving me his back.

I grab his shoulder and spin him around. “There’s plenty to talk about.”

“No, there’s not.”

“Please, Cav,” I beg. “I want to fix this, make this right.”

“Are you still with Thomas?”

“I’m ending it.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“It’s an ‘I’m leaving him.’ I’ll leave him for you.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t bother.”

“Cav.”

“It’s fine, Connor. We were a dream anyway, never destined to happen and even more unlikely to last.”

“You don’t know that.”

He gives me a wry smile. “But I do.”

“Holy shit, babe,” Thomas says, pushing through the crowd, Jase in his wake, and pulling me to him. “This is insane.”

“Ah, yeah, it is. Listen, after the race we have to talk, actually talk. I’ve got something really important to say. And what is my brother doing here? You know I don’t like him to be alone at these things.”

He nuzzles my neck. “He wanted to come, so I brought him. He’ll be fine. But we’re going to celebrate your win and then we’ll talk.”

“No, Thomas, we need to talk before anything.”

“All right, gentlemen,” Kevin says, coming over to us. “One quarter mile drag, winner takes all. Keep it safe, keep it clean, be careful, and good luck.”

I nod while Cav gets in his car.

“Good luck, babe,” Thomas says, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips.

I walk round and get in my car, securing my seat belt and starting the engine. It purrs beneath me, reacting to the slightest pressure on the gas pedal.

Kevin takes his position between us, checking with both of us once more.

He holds his hands up, the crowd roaring over our engines.

Kevin’s hands drop, and I take off, a cloud of burning rubber behind me. I accelerate quickly, going through the gears; first, second, third.

I look over and see Cav neck and neck with me, his eyes focused on the road except for a quick glance I almost miss.

I go through fourth gear before hitting fifth. The finish line is coming up, and neither of us is giving an inch. I pull ahead, then he does, then we’re even.

We hit the line, and I have no idea who won.

Again, I look over at Cav, who this time is definitely looking over at me. I wait for him to ease up, but he doesn’t, instead putting his foot down. I follow up, catching him easily.

“What the fuck?” I shout.

He laughs, a smirk pulling at his mouth, his eyes narrowed slightly.

“Cav, stop!” I yell.

I have no idea what he’s playing at, but I have to stop him, to talk to him.

He looks back to the road, pulling ahead and in front of me as the road curves. We take it easily, the Skids long forgotten.

I follow him yard for yard, our speeds easily reaching a hundred miles an hour, if not more.

We hit another straight stretch, and I pull out beside him. I hold my hands out as if to say “what the fuck?”

He throws his head back and laughs. I’m so focused on him, on his movement, I don’t see the car heading toward us.

I see the headlights in time to swerve, but that’s it. My car tips, then rolls. I don’t know how many times I flip. Three? Four? Five? Or what I hit, fence posts, trees, rocks.

I only know that when I eventually come to a stop, I’m upside down, my airbags in my face and along the windows.

My head is pounding, vision blurry. There’s pain in my neck, arms, leg, and chest. The smell of gas is heavy in the air. I think I hear people screaming, glass breaking, but it’s getting harder to breathe, harder to see, my vision going in and out.

I feel fresh air rush over me, but it doesn’t matter; it’s not going where it needs to.

I’m gasping, trying to breathe, to focus, but it’s all so hard. Blackness is creeping in and taking away all the pain. It’s nice there; it doesn’t hurt, there’s nothing, just peace and quiet and no pain.

“Connor!” I hear someone scream. The voice sounds familiar, but I can’t place it.

The blackness creeps in once again, and I’m so tempted to go with it. I’m so tired, I’m just so….

To be Continued