Chapter 158

Ella

Logan began to drive down the street, the silence between us punctuated only by the sound of the engine and the static of the radio. Ema was quiet now, satisfied by her actions. But I couldn’t be mad at her; in a way, I was also secretly excited to uncover whatever ‘secret’ Logan was hiding from me.

“So,” I began, a weak attempt at nonchalance, “is this the part where you blindfold me and take me to your secret lair or something?”

He chuckled. “Tempting, but no. No secret lairs.”

“Okay,” I said, glancing out the window at the street lights as they passed by the car. “Then if there are no secret lairs, where are you taking me?”

Logan laughed again. The sound was rich and warm. “Tell you what; let’s play a game instead. Twenty questions. You ask, I answer—yes or no only.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You’re enjoying this whole ‘secret’ thing way too much.”

“C’mon, just humor me,” he said, his eyes never leaving the road.

I sighed, then thought for a moment, deciding to give it a shot. “Okay. Am I going to meet someone?”

“Yes.”

“Is it illegal?”

A laugh escaped him. “No, Ella, it’s not illegal.”

The game went on, my questions dancing around the possibility of midnight meetings or secret second lives. But for each question, his one-worded answers never brought me any closer to the truth.

But then the scenery began to change, the urban sprawl giving way to sparse lights and the open sky. It was only when the distant rumble of car engines reached my ears, a sound that I recognized instantly but hadn’t heard in a while now.

“Wait… Are we going back to the racetrack?” I asked, my tone a mixture of disbelief and realization.

“Yes,” he replied simply, his lips curving into a smug smile.

I frowned. “So you’ve been sneaking out at night to watch car races?” I asked. “Geez, Logan, you could have told me. I already knew you were into them.”

When we had first come here, it had been a rush—engines roaring and the sound of the crowd cheering. I hated to admit it, but I really enjoyed it… up until Logan was kicked out for starting a fight.

But Logan shook his head, still grinning from ear to ear. “Trust me, it’s more than that,” he said.

The car slowed as he took a turn into a parking lot with a sign that read ‘Staff Only’. I frowned, thinking back on my first visit. I did recall the security guard calling Logan by name, but I assumed it was just because he was a regular.

“Do you work here or something?” I asked, my curiosity piqued as I glanced at the staff badges milling about.

“Erm… Something like that,” Logan answered, and the grin on his face was like he was holding back laughter—or a secret that was about to burst at the seams.

The car came to a halt, the engine quieting to a soft purr. I looked out the window, taking in the view of the parking lot, and beyond it, the racetrack. Cars were lined up on the side of the track, each with their own custom paint job and numbers. People in racing suits milled around, and staff ran about wearing bright yellow shirts and baseball hats.

Then, I turned to glance at Logan. There it was—that glint in his eye, that smirk. It was the same look he had when he knew something that I didn’t, and it was both infuriating and endearing at the same time.

“You’re not telling me everything,” I said, meeting his gaze. “What’s going on here?”

But Logan only grinned and unbuckled his seatbelt. “Follow me, Ella. And stay close.”

Without another word, Logan slipped out of the car. My fingers were still wrapped around the clasp to my seatbelt when he jogged around, opening my door for me.

“C’mon, Miss Morgan. You’re gonna enjoy this. I promise.”

I felt oddly stiff as I nodded and unbuckled my seatbelt and joined Logan. The air was crisp outside with the scent of gasoline and rubber, and that was when I recognized it: the scent that Logan had come home with, the one I couldn’t quite place my finger on.

It was the scent of the racetrack; but it still didn’t explain the perfume.

I opened my mouth to say something to Logan, but before I could, a man came jogging across the parking lot.

“Logan, you’re late!” a burly man with grease-stained orange coveralls called out, his voice booming over the ambient noise of distant engines and muffled announcements. He was jogging toward us, carrying a canvas bag in his hands that appeared to be bursting full of something that looked like leather.

“Sorry,” Logan said, taking long strides to meet the man. “Had to take a detour.”

The man’s eyes flicked to me and there was a knowing sort of look in his gaze, but he said nothing. Just then, a woman with a clipboard and a short haircut followed suit and jogged up to Logan.

“Your car is all prepped,” she said, her tone businesslike in a way that I wasn’t entirely expecting. “You can take a test lap if you want.”

Logan shrugged, taking a bag from the man in the coveralls. “No need. I’ve been practicing this track for three weeks now.”

Three weeks; that was how long Logan had been staying with me. Three weeks of unexplained absences, sneaking out in the middle of the night, showing up smelling like cars and gasoline.

I watched in awe as Logan guided me over to a garage where other drivers were milling around. “Wait here,” he said, and I stood there as still as a statue as he disappeared behind a partition.

As Logan did whatever it was he was doing, I took a moment to take in my surroundings. Framed photos of racecar drivers lined the walls, music blared over speakers, and lively conversations filled the air. Tattered band posters and piles of tools and gear filled the space, a space which I felt entirely out of place in.

Then, Logan emerged.

My eyes widened.

He was dressed in a racecar uniform, the textured leather hugging his body as though it was custom-made for him. It was all black with red stripes on the shoulders and around the groin, emphasizing him in ways that I never would have thought.

He grinned as he approached me, and ran a hand through his hair. Time seemed to stand still, and I was left there like a deer in headlights, watching as this man who I knew all too well and yet not at all sauntered up to me with a helmet tucked under his arm.

“Logan?” I found myself muttering, my wolf stirring as he came closer.

He stopped mere inches in front of me. His head was bowed to look down at me, and it was all I could do to not faint out of shock and another emotion that I wasn’t quite ready to admit to.

“Well?” he asked, his hair rustling softly in the breeze. “Now that you know my deepest, darkest secret… What do you think, Ella?”