Chapter 182

Ella

“The… racetrack?” I asked incredulously. My eyes flickered over to the laptop screen, which had gone dark by now. I could see my reflection, and the woman that stared back at me looked terrified.

“Yeah,” Logan said, his tone slightly cautious. “Is that a problem?”

I paused for a moment, biting my lower lip so hard I was afraid it would start to bleed. The thought of going to the racetrack to potentially face the aftermath of what may have happened to poor Miles felt like it was too much to bear.

“I’m… busy,” I finally said.

Logan paused for a moment, then replied, “But you just said you weren’t doing anything.”

I almost cursed out loud. It was true; I had said that.

“Look,” Logan said, as though reading my mind, “no one’s there. It’ll just be me and you.”

At his words, I let out a soft sigh of relief. If it would really just be the two of us, then I could handle that. And it seemed as though Logan wasn’t going to take no for an answer anyway, so I finally relented.

“Okay. I’ll go.”

“Great,” Logan said. “I’ll be there in half an hour.”

…

Logan and I pulled into the empty parking lot almost an hour later. It had felt like a struggle just to get dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater; lately, my exhaustion had been growing with everything going on, and taking care of my basic needs felt like a chore.

But I managed, and here I was, sitting next to Logan in his red car. When he pulled into a space, he turned to look at me with a surprisingly somber look on his face.

“Thanks for coming with me.”

His voice was sincere, but there was something strange in his gaze. It was a bit unsettling, as though he was looking straight through me.

“It’s… no problem,” I managed, shooting him a sideways look accompanied by a curt nod. “I’m your lucky charm, right?”

Logan said nothing, which was even more unsettling. He just got out of the car. I stared after him for a moment, watching his stiff movements.

“Geez, what’s his problem?” Ema asked, just as confused as I was.

“Hell if I know.” Sighing, I climbed out of the car and started to follow him across the barren parking lot.

The lights cast an amber glow across everything. It had grown a little chillier lately, especially at night out here by the desert, and a cold wind blew across the parking lot. Shuddering, I pulled my jacket a little tighter around my shoulders and kept walking.

We made our way to the garage, where Logan’s car waited for him. The cold fluorescent lights flickered to life as he flipped the switch. I watched in silence as he grabbed his suit and helmet off of a shelf.

“You can find a spot out on the bleachers,” he said. “I’ll just be out in a few minutes.”

I nodded, and without a word, I made my way over to the sidelines. It was a bit of a relief to put some distance between us, partially because of my guilty conscience and partially because of the strange energy that Logan was giving off.

However, it wasn’t long before he pulled out of the garage and onto the track.

I positioned myself on the sidelines with my hands in my pockets, my eyes fixed on Logan’s car as he accelerated down the straightaway.

He went faster and faster with each lap, pushing the limits of the vehicle and taking more risks with each turn. It was as if he were trying to prove something to himself, to show that he was in control despite the chaos surrounding us.

“He’s going too fast,” Ema growled inside of me. “He’s going to hurt himself.”

“I know,” I muttered under my breath. “I’m not sure what to do.”

My heart raced as I watched him navigate the track, my worry growing with each daring move. He was pushing himself to the edge, and I couldn’t help but worry that he might just push himself too far.

And then it happened.

As Logan approached a particularly sharp turn, he seemed to misjudge his speed. The car skidded dangerously close to the edge of the track, tires screeching against the asphalt. My breath caught in my throat as I watched in horror, unable to tear my eyes away.

He fought to regain control, steering with a desperate intensity. For a moment, it looked like he might lose the battle, that the car would spin out of control and crash into the sidelines.

In that heart-stopping moment, I couldn’t hold back any longer. I jumped to my feet, my voice piercing the air as I screamed his name.

“Logan!”

Time seemed to slow down. In that moment, it felt as though I was caught in a never-ending whirlwind of colors and sound, the racetrack illuminated by those bright white lights. And there was Logan, strapped into the driver’s seat, his hands gripping the steering wheel.

My shout must have reached him just in time, or so it seemed. With a final, heroic effort, he managed to bring the car under control, narrowly avoiding disaster. The tires left dark skid marks on the track, and the smell of burning rubber hung in the air.

The car came to a screeching halt right in front of me, and I was left breathless, my hair tousled from the sudden force of wind caused by the movement.

I was leaning back against the railing behind me, my breaths coming out in short gasps. Just a few more feet, and he might have hit me. I didn’t even realize it until now; I was so focused on his own safety that I didn’t think about mine.

But I didn’t care; I was only flooded with relief. Logan was okay, shaken but unharmed. His gloved hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, and he took a few deep breaths to steady himself.

I rushed over to him, my heart still pounding in my chest. “Logan, are you all right?” I asked, my voice filled with genuine concern.

He turned to look at me, his eyes meeting mine through the visor of his helmet. “Yeah,” he replied, his voice slightly shaky but firm nonetheless. “I’m fine, Ella. Just a close call.”

I let out a shaky breath of my own, relief washing over me. “Thank god,” I murmured, clutching my chest. “That was scary.”

Logan nodded, finally removing his helmet and running a hand through his disheveled hair. “Yeah, it was,” he admitted. “I guess I got carried away out there.”

I couldn’t help but scold him, worry and frustration mingling in my tone. “Logan, you can’t take such risks. You could have been seriously hurt.”

He sighed, looking out his windshield. “I’m fine,” he said quietly. “I know what I’m doing.”

I frowned. I wanted to scold him again, but something told me that it was no use. Somehow, I knew that he wouldn’t listen; it was as though he had intended on pulling this stunt all along, and maybe it was never an accident after all.

Then, out of nowhere, he turned to face me with a determined glint in his eyes. He gestured to the passenger seat with his free hand, his other hand still gripping the steering wheel.

“Get in.”