Wreck (Fuel Series Book 2)

by Ginger Scott

  I have to.

  Just . . . not now.

  Epilogue

  Three years later

  I didn’t sign up for this part of our friendship. I’ve been hiding in this closet for an hour watching Tommy and Bailey watch a movie. Every now and then, they start to make out. At this point, I’m not a great friend for capturing their special moment. I’m a creep.

  I sink into the coats, glad at least that the Judge family closet is well-stocked. He could have popped the question at our place, where there are a lot of uncomfortable places to hide. He wants this moment to be special, though. His parents are waiting upstairs and the Tingles are in the garage, probably freezing their asses off. Mr. Tingle keeps texting me, asking if it’s time yet.

  It’s way past time. Come on, Tommy. Man up.

  Bailey leaves the couch with the empty popcorn bowl, and I get ready when Tommy steps away from the sofa and gets on one knee. He turns around to give me a thumbs up and I start recording on my phone.

  It’s two days until Thanksgiving, and the Judge kitchen is packed with more food than I knew existed. Hannah is coming home, the first time she’s been here since she left. She’s bringing her daughter. Leaving the guy in Omaha. I’ll be heading to Vegas, paying my debt.

  It’s fine.

  It’s not.

  Bailey is telling Tommy something about the movie they’re watching, something about the couple being a couple in real life, and my friend is having a hard time balancing on his knee. I chuckle at his nerves and decide to narrate this for them.

  “Oh, Bailey. You have no idea how shitty that man’s balance is. He must really love you. I kinda hope you start doing all of the dishes by hand so I can watch him suffer.”

  I zoom in and catch Tommy’s face as he turns and grits a smile at me. He’s laughing too, but he’s hurting plenty.

  Finally, Bailey shuts off the faucet and leaves the metal bowl upside down to dry on a towel. It takes her a few seconds to realize what’s happening when she sees Tommy on the floor, but the moment it hits her, her hands cup her mouth and she freezes in place.

  “Bailey Tingle, you put up with my shit something fierce. It would be my honor if—”

  “Fuck, it’s cold. It’s colder here than it is in Omaha, I swear!” Like a hurricane, Hannah blows through the front door, crashing into the middle of her brother’s proposal, her best friend’s big moment—my life.

  A man walks in behind her, holding a sleeping toddler over his shoulder.

  My blood boils.

  “Where should I—” He stops when he realizes Hannah’s frozen inside the door, her eyes on everyone in the room. Thank God I’m in the closet.

  “Were you—? Is this—? I thought you’re just dating! Bailey?” She pivots, taking turns pointing her finger at her friend and then her brother. “Oh, my God!”

  “And right on cue, Hannah enters the house and fucks everything up,” Tommy moans.

  He gets to his feet, but before he can settle in to be angry, Bailey leaps at him and wraps her arms and legs around his body.

  “I do, Tommy Judge! I do! I do!” She practically pries the ring from his hand and shoves it on her finger before kissing the man senseless. I feel my mouth start to smile and I almost open the closet door. Then I remember.

  Hannah.

  I text Mr. Tingle and a few seconds pass before they enter the room. Tommy’s parents rush down the stairs. Everyone is celebrating, almost ignoring that Hannah is in our presence. The occasion is too happy to ruin. I stop recording when the scene basically devolves into one big group hug.

  I’m going to have to leave this space eventually, so I decide now is as good a time as any.

  “Congratulations, man,” I announce as I step from the closet. I hand Tommy his phone and do my best not to look to my right. I can feel her eyes on me. I bet they’re bluer, wider, more dangerous.

  I hug my friend, and then Bailey. They thank me and Bailey gushes about the ring, showing it to me as if I haven’t seen that fucker every day for the last six weeks.

  “I’m so happy for you,” I say, the conversation feeling forced because of the other thing happening in the room.

  “You made it. I didn’t think you were getting in until tomorrow,” Tommy says through an awkward grin. I lift my brows to him as he moves past me to hug his sister.

  “We wanted to beat the snow. It’s supposed to nail Flagstaff by morning.”

  It physically hurts to hear her voice.

  “I’m sorry,” Bailey mouths.

  I shake off her apology. It doesn’t matter. This moment had to happen sometime.

  It’s been three years since my uncle gave me the seed money to buy the track, and in that time, with Tommy’s management, we’ve turned it into not only the Miller Racing headquarters, but a premier training facility for young racers.

  That track? It’s the love of my life. I’m never leaving it. And as long as Hannah has roots here, the grandparents of her child here, then there’s a link forever tethering us to one another.

  “I should probably hit the road,” I say, deciding maybe leaving for Vegas a day early isn’t the worst idea.

  “Mommy?”

  I nearly made it out without breaking, but in all the revelry, a two-year-old girl woke up confused and wanting her mom. So fragile, so small; her voice sounds like her mother’s. My chest hurts.

  “Baby, come here. I got you.”

  I turn to see Hannah take the girl from that man. He was just some artist. A special one, but her teacher and nothing more. Sure, he’s “the best in the world,” but so am I. Hannah’s parents have only seen their grandchild a few times. Their relationship with their daughter is still a bit rocky; however, it’s smooth as silk compared to mine.

  Awkward glances dart around the room, all of them starting toward me then sliding away in quick apology. I have to get out of here.

  “Who’s that man?’ Her question is quiet, and I think I might be the only one to hear it. I know I’m the only one to hear Hannah’s answer.

  “He’s no one, baby. Go back to sleep.”

  And that’s my signal.

  “Alright, well. Congrats you two! Tom . . . Amanda. Mr. and Mrs. Tingle? Have a wonderful Thanksgiving.” It takes every ounce of strength in my body to make this final turn. “Hannah. George.”

  “It’s Jorge,” he corrects.

  “Yeah. Whatever.” My meter for being polite has run out.

  “You’re not staying for Thanksgiving? I thought you all were tight here.”

  “Hannah,” Tommy chastises. I can’t believe she’s starting already. We really do bring out the best in each other.

  “I have a date in Vegas. Busy busy,” I say, dropping that locale on purpose. Tommy’s told her about the mess she left for me. He hasn’t shared exact details about my arrangement, but she’s not stupid.

  “You do love Vegas. Almost more than—”

  “Don’t,” I cut her off, stepping in close. I don’t need us putting on a show. Neither does her brother and Bailey.

  Her mouth hangs open, and for one split second, her bottom lip quivers as her gaze moves to my mouth. The thought of kissing that surprised look off her face crosses my mind. I quickly dismiss it.

  “Let’s be better than that,” I say, and she snaps her mouth shut. The smug look disappears with it and she simply nods.

  “I have to put her to bed.” She moves past me, but as she does, her daughter grabs the collar of my shirt, bunching the corner in her tiny fist for a brief second. It slips away as Hannah moves toward the stairs. She smells like an angel, and her eyes are blue, like her mom’s. Her hair is a sleepy mess, which I can relate to. I wave as she disappears up the steps, and she bunches her fist a few times in response.

  My mouth waters with the desire to forget. Before temptation ruins me, I get myself out of the house.

  “Alright, then, I’m off. Tommy? I’ll see you Monday. Bailey? You’re an idiot for loving him.”

  “I kn
ow, but I do,” she says, slinging her arms around him and kissing his cheek.

  Nobody saw those two coming. Yet now that they are, I can’t fathom them any other way.

  Unfortunately, I can’t see Hannah and me any other way than what we are, either. That’s probably for the best, too, because what I have to do to make Alex Offerman leave me alone isn’t something she’d like. Not one bit but I have to do it. The funny thing is, though?

  It’s her fault.

  THE FUEL SERIES CONCLUDES WITH BURN - OUT JULY 30, 2021

  Preorder Burn

  Acknowledgments

  Hannah and Dustin have grown up! My thanks are the same as with Shift, but I wanted to add a special note of appreciation up front for my readers. Thank you for taking this leap with me and trusting me to put your heart back together. I promise, this heartbreak will be worth it! I got you.

  This series has been such a rush to write. I cannot wait for my readers to experience every moment of it. I wanted you to have something special this summer. Of all summers, this one called for something big. I hope this book hits the spot for you.

  I have a lot of people to thank for helping me get this baby over the finish line. (Get it?) As always, Autumn, you steer me in the right direction. I am forever grateful for your expertise, but even more for your friendship. Aly Stiles - you are more than a critique partner, you are literally a life coach. I’m not sure I know how to write without Rebecca Shea sitting across from me at a Panera. My betas for this baby, Jen and Shelley, you were patient and guided me so much. And Brenda Letendre, YOU were my Rusty Wallace. You kept me going when I was running on empty, and this book shines because of your editing. I’m so deeply proud of it, and I have you—all of you—to thank for that.

  Mom, boys, and my gear-headed brother—you are the soft and chewy center of this book. But my sweet Lesley, you are the heart. It beats with your spirit. This series—it’s for you. Even if you’re too shy to read the saucy parts lol!

  Thank you for taking this journey with me. If you enjoyed this book, please consider leaving a review, talking about it with a friend, forcing it in someone’s hands, shouting about it out the car window—pretty much anything. (Only kidding a little.) My readers are the only reason I get to do something with these stories in my head, and I am profoundly grateful. Now, back to the race. ;-)

  About the Author

  Ginger Scott is a USA Today, Wall Street Journal and Amazon-bestselling author from Peoria, Arizona. She has also been nominated for the Goodreads Choice and RWA Rita Awards. She is the author of several young and new adult romances, including bestsellers Cry Baby, The Hard Count, A Boy Like You, This Is Falling and Wild Reckless.

  A sucker for a good romance, Ginger's other passion is sports, and she often blends the two in her stories. When she's not writing, the odds are high that she's somewhere near a baseball diamond, either watching her son swing for the fences or cheering on her favorite baseball team, the Arizona Diamondbacks. Ginger lives in Arizona and is married to her college sweetheart whom she met at ASU (fork 'em, Devils).

  FIND GINGER ONLINE: www.littlemisswrite.com

  Also By Ginger Scott

  The Fuel Series

  Shift

  Wreck

  Burn (July 30, 2021)

  The Varsity Series

  Varsity Heartbreaker

  Varsity Tiebreaker

  Varsity Rulebreaker

  Varsity Captain (Fall 2021)

  The Waiting Series

  Waiting on the Sidelines

  Going Long

  The Hail Mary

  Like Us Duet

  A Boy Like You

  A Girl Like Me

  The Falling Series

  This Is Falling

  You And Everything After

  The Girl I Was Before

  In Your Dreams

  The Harper Boys

  Wild Reckless

  Wicked Restless

  Standalone Reads

  Candy Colored Sky

  Cowboy Villain Damsel Duel

  Drummer Girl

  BRED

  Cry Baby

  The Hard Count

  Memphis

  Hold My Breath

  Blindness

  How We Deal With Gravity