Racing for Freedom - By Bec Botefuhr Page 0,45
sympathetically. “It’ll get easier mate, I promise.”
“He’ll be ok, I believe in him,” I smile, staring at my father.
“What happened to your eye Dash?” John asks, frowning.
“Long story, it’s fine.”
“You got a real shiner there.”
I chuckle, “Yeah.”
“Well well, if it isn’t Colby Jewel. Come to watch your daughter lose?”
I hear Michael’s voice and cringe. Great. My father closes his eyes and then opens them, before turning and facing his long time enemy. He rakes his gaze over Michael as though he’s no more than a piece of dirt. My chest swells with pride. I have never seen my father look so…strong. I thought Michael would be what sent him home, yet it seems to be what’s making him look even stronger.
“Well, Michael, I see you’re still a sore loser.”
Michael scowls. “Says the man who hid in his house for years because he killed his own wife.”
I don’t even see my hand bunch, all I know is it swings out and connects so hard with Michael’s nose that a loud crack fills the air. Michael roars with pain and stumbles backwards a few steps, blood pours from his nose.
“You little fucking…”
“Finish that sentence,” my father snarls, “and I’ll put you on your ass, Michael.”
“Dad?”
I look up, my fist is throbbing, to see Slade rushing over. He stares at his father and then turns his eyes to me holding my fist. His mouth drops open.
“You’ll fuckin’ pay for that, Dasha!” Michael spits at me.
“Whatever,” I grunt, turning and staring at my father. “Are you ok?”
He looks at Michael, then over at me and actually smiles. “Yeah, I’m great. Come on, let’s get that hand looked at.”
He takes my elbow and pulls me away. John bursts out laughing and follows.
“Dash?”
I hear Slade call my name, and with a scowl I turn and give him a glare so severe he flinches. Just as I’m turning away though, I see something else in his gaze. I see fear, not for himself, but for me. I know right then and there that I should have never laid a hand on Michael Devaroe.
Chapter Twenty Nine
I’m still so wound up when I get into my car. I’m jealous, angry, hurt and scared. Slade kissed Kandee again right before he slid into his car. I’m wild by the time I start mine. My dad leans in and tries very hard to calm me down, but he doesn’t know why I’m angry. He thinks it’s Michael, so his words do nothing to ease my pain. My hand throbs and I know before I even start that race, that I’m not in a good position.
Surprisingly, I manage to come second, just sliding from third place in the last few seconds. Relief floods me as I slow my car and slump my head against the steering wheel. I’ve made a place in the final decider but it was by a split second that I managed to get it. I wasn’t in the race today and it shows. Slade won, of course he won, he always does. I wanted to beat him, or at least come close behind him. I have failed myself and my father.
I slide out of the car and my dad is staring at me with a confused expression. As he walks over I brace myself for his kind ‘oh well, you tried hard’ words that will only make it worse. If I drove like that four years ago, he would have my ass, but I haven’t seen fire from my father for years. He stops in front of me and crosses his arms across his chest, in a gruff voice he says, “What the hell was that?”
My mouth drops open in shock.
“I…my hand…I was angry.”
“Do you want to win this, Dash?”
“Of course I do,” I splutter.
“Then get your head in the game. Do you think I didn’t get taunted and picked on before races? It can’t get to your head. You let it then and you made it pass by a split second. You could have lost and had to wait until next year to try again. Is that what you want?”
His face is stern, hard and I can’t help but smile. I leap on him and wrap my arms around his neck. “Thank you daddy, I’ve needed you more than you know.”
“So it seems,” he grumbles. “I’m going with John to convince some sponsors you aren’t a waste of time. You’re going to stay here and learn this track backwards and forwards, without question.”
I nod, sighing. “Ok dad.”
“I