Song: Masterpiece - Motionless In White

My nerves were shot. So badly shaken, I fucking second-guessed every god damned decision I was making.

I cut right, taking the inside lane just before the triple, spraying snow and leaving Hunt to go wide.

He was taunting. Refusing to creep into first, not that I'd let him. The only thing keeping me steady was the fact that I'd won the holeshot and kept the lead.

Wind ripped at my face as I flew through the dark, the fluorescent lights lighting up the track. My legs burned as I fought to stay afloat, my heart racing as thoughts of my last race came to mind.

The fall. The snow. And the searing pain before everything went black.

I blinked the images away, leaned and made to take the inside again when my heart leapt out of my chest.

Hunt cut me off.

Rage raced through me. Snow blinding as he dusted me out and took the lead.

Fuck!

Face full of snow, I gunned it. My anger raging. I veered left and cut past Max, taking the Polaris turn too fast, and banged into Hunt.

I couldn't think past the screaming sleds and the roaring wind. The adrenaline pounding in my ears. I wasn't happy and neither was he.

Elbows up, Hunt pushed against my side. I fought, grating my teeth and leaned against him. Doing everything I could to stay on the track when–

Hunt pinned it, and my sled tipped, ripping me from my seat in one aggressive jerk and sent me flying across the track.

△

"It's not as bad as it looks," I assured Janelle as she fussed over my neck.

The cold compress from the kitchen freezer provided much-needed relief against the rope-like burn. My hair up in a high knot thanks to Janelle, who busied herself if only to escape the anxiousness I felt emanating from her.

Luke stopped his pacing in my parent's living room, his uneven steps coming to a firm halt. "He put hands on you, Hadley," he snapped, chopping the edge of his hand into the palm of the other. "You need to press charges."

Janelle didn't disagree. The future lawyer already compiled a list of names of all the witnesses at the bar, thanks to Luke, who rifled them off one by one in the truck. He claimed he saw the entire thing and would gladly take the stand.

Janelle took a dozen photos of my neck and the bruise on my wrist as Luke drove, cursing every two seconds as he mulled over whether he was going to turn around and head straight back to the bar.

It hurt, and it wasn't acceptable, but I smiled regardless. Luke wasn't a fighter. He was soft-hearted and kind, but when it came to the people he loved, he'd gladly take a punch. Or throw one, as he demonstrated with Nate earlier today.

My arm beat like a pulse, but it was nothing compared to my neck and the searing headache. Dallas had incredible grip strength thanks to his sport, and it showed on my skin: in the purple ring taking up half my forearm.

I pulled my black sleeve over it. My mom was going to flip. I couldn't exactly hide the collar. And my dad...

People feared Baker, and they had every right to, but he was nothing compared to Paul Bell.

My head throbbed. I just wanted a few moments of peace before the chaos began. "I'll call Constable Rory in the morning," I promised Luke. Even if I didn't press charges, it would be on the record should he try anything when I returned to school. He already called half a dozen times after I left the bar.

I ignored it and eased back, sinking into the couch. I changed when we got back into loose grey sweatpants, a worn concert tee and an unzipped hoodie.

Janelle curled against me in a throw we shared, cradling me in her arms as Luke collapsed into the armchair, turning on the race.

The announcer's voice boomed across the living room as Luke adjusted, setting the remote and his booted foot on the table before us. "Baker and Hunt battle for first. The two neck and neck."

My heart slowly spiked as I watched Baker barely hold onto first. His head wasn't in the right space, I could tell by the way he was second-guessing his decisions–his helmet snapping in search of Hunt.

He was scared.

My heart bled, knowing I should have stayed, but there wasn't much I could do from the sidelines. This was a battle of the mind. One Baker needed to conquer on his own. "Come on, baby."

Janelle shifted, holding me a little closer.

"Hunt will try to jump up on the hill here and take the line away."

My teeth grated, and Luke cursed. He eased forward, elbows coming to knees. "Hunt's taunting him."

I could tell.

"Hunt's switching lanes–he cuts off Baker!"

Luke swore as Hunt took the hole-shot, and my heart raced. Max took the inside, his helmet snapping to Baker. Baker gunned it. Flying threw the air and well past Max, leaving Nate and the rest of the pack behind.

"He's mad," I murmured, mostly to myself.

Luke kept his gaze fixed on the screen. "Keep your cool, Baker."

I rose. "He's going too fast," I commented, watching him take the Polaris turn too sharply—heart pounding.

Thoughts of the last race flashed. The fissure growing.

Please, Baker.

"Hunt's setting him up," the announcer bellowed, his excitement putting my teeth on edge. "A little contact. Oh–elbows up, baby!"

Hunt crashed into Baker, trying to drive him off the track.

"They're bar to bar! And oh!"

Tears I didn't know were there fell as Hunt floored it and Baker's sled cut across the track.

Luke cursed, and Janelle shot forward as Baker was tossed from his seat, rolling across the snow.

"And Baker is down!"

A sob caught in my throat as he shot to his feet, the other riders avoiding him.

I barely noticed as Luke came and sat beside me. "It's okay, Hadley," he said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders. "He's fine."

I nodded, face crumpled and hot tears falling from my chin into my hands.

Baker jumped back on his sled. Finishing in fourth.

△

"What the fuck was that?"

Hunt merely smirked as he turned from his team to face me—helmet removed and goggles hanging from his neck.

I didn't hesitate. I sought him out immediately after the race—my blood on fire.

"That's how we race, Baker," he replied simply.

I shoved him, and Alyssa hurried behind, cutting around Nate and Max. "Whoa, Baker, chill."

She stepped between us before I could say anything.

Hunt smirked. "Yeah, Baker, calm down. We still have a full season of this."

My teeth grated, and Nate snapped, "You could've caused another accident!"

"You know the risks just as much as I do," he said before reverting to me. "It's not my fault you lost your edge."

Yes, it fucking was.

Alyssa pushed against me as I made to step forward. "The sponsors are here," she pressed, her head jabbing to the sidelines.

I dared a look. This was supposed to be my comeback season, they said, but instead of triumph, all I saw was disappointment.

My hands shook—my adrenaline still sky-high. 

"Coo," Austin said in a language not of my own, but I understood as easily as I understood Hadley earlier after years of living with the Bell's. Let's go. He clasped my scarred shoulder, and dread spiked through me—the pain of the shattered collarbone real.

I sloughed him off, rolling out of his grip. My stomach roiled—the overwhelming urge to hurl consuming.

I needed to settle my nerves. To calm down.

I ripped away, heading back to my sled, when Hunt called, "Maybe your not as good as you once were, Baker. There's no shame in retiring early."

I could hear the chortles. The fucking laughter I'd heard when I was fourteen and showed up to the track on a shit sled my dad and I rebuilt. No helmet. No gear. Only I'd beaten Hunt. This time...

My throat stung as I mounted my sled.

I looked at the cheering crowd, searching for someone—anyone, but she wasn't there.

Self-hatred cracked, and I took off. Unable to hear my team shouting after me.

A/N: At this point I'd say Dallas is the worst, but Hunt is coming in a close second.