he feeling of knowing you're in impending trouble is like no other pain. I pace back and forth, contemplating sleeping over at Vanessa's, but it'll only delay the inevitable. Sooner or later, I am going to have to face my mother's wrath.

"Maybe she'll understand," Tyler says.

We've been sitting in the parking lot for over an hour, mostly in silence, as he watches my subsequent meltdown.

"Understand?" I turn to face him, allowing my eyes to meet his. "My mother is the queen of holding grudges. Literally the queen. I'm going to be grounded until graduation." I gnaw on my thumb, the way I always do when I know I'm in deep shit. "There's no way she'll let me race in the qualifying rounds."

Tyler frowns and gets to his feet, closing the distance between us. He'd been mildly amused about things up until now, but he can see how serious I am. "Hey, it'll be fine," he says, pulling me into a hug. "We'll find a way."

The moment his arms wrap around me, everything else is forgotten. The qualifying rounds, Mom's fiery wrath, all I can think about is how solid and warm his muscles feel arched beneath my arms.

It's the first time we've been up close and personal like this. It's entirely nerve-wracking, like the moment you're about to get on stage, and you think you've forgotten your lines. But behind the nervousness, the urge to be sick, adrenaline pounds through your veins.

It's followed by butterflies, a quick burst of flight that makes me pull back. As much as I'm enjoying being trapped in his arms, my guard is up high, an impenetrable shield between us. Butterflies for Tyler Wakeford is not a good sign. I'm still ninety percent certain he's harboring some dark, ulterior motive, and I've already promised Alex that I wouldn't be another notch on his belt.

I won't be.

"I should go," I say, even though I really don't want to. The thought of heading home makes me nauseous. "You're probably never going to see me again, on account of the fact I'll be dead, so it was nice knowing you."

The corner of his mouth lifts. "Hey, I promise to come to your funeral."

"Yeah?" I contemplate this. "Would you speak?"

"Maybe."

"What would you say?"

His eyes gleam with mischief. "Here lies the girl who lied a lot."

Despite the internal war in my chest, it's hard not to smile. With a playful shove of his arm, I resign myself to my miserable fate and drive home on my own bike, leaving the KTM at the track. It's not like I'm ever going to use it again anyway – not if my mother has anything to say about it.

My parents are waiting in the kitchen as soon as I walk in. Their expressions are flat, stony, and I know I'm about to be subjected to a night of interrogation. I take a seat at the table like I'm about to face a firing squad. Even Dad looks pissed, and he rarely gets angry unless it's serious.

"I trusted you," Mom begins. "I trusted you, and you lied to my face. How could you after everything your father has been through? Everything we've all been through?"

"I'm sorry," I say, and I mean it. As much as I love racing, I never intended to hurt them. It's just that lying, while wrong, seemed like the option less likely to at the time. "I just didn't want you to worry."

She shakes her head, her forehead crowded with worry lines. "Lying to your mother doesn't make her stop worrying. She never stops. The difference is that now I can't trust you."

It's the age-old speech of I'm not mad, just disappointed, and it's working. Knowing she's disappointed in me– that they both are – hurts like hell.

"I'm sorry," I say again, but it sounds weak even to my own ears. I look to Dad, certain he'll be able to see things from my side. "I know I lied to you guys, but I had to race. You know what that feeling is like better than anyone."

Dad's lips purse into a thin, narrow line. Definitely not on my side. "Whenever you leave this house," he says, his voice eerily quiet, "we trust that you'll make responsible decisions. Trust that you'll uphold the values we've tried to instill in you. We don't lie to each other in this family, Roxy, and that's what hurts. We could have sat down and talked about this, but lying–"

"No, we couldn't have!" The words come out loud, because now there is anger filling up my lungs, demanding release. "Who are you kidding, Dad? There is no way you guys would have sat down and listened to me, or let me race. You know Mom's stance on racing."

"Oh, so this is my fault?" Mom asks.

I'm about to argue back, but it's clear from the fury in her eyes that nothing I say will change her mind. In her eyes, riding is bad. Riding leads to ending up like Dad.

"I have been fair with you, Roxy," she says. "I've let you continue riding, I've let you work at the track. The only thing I asked of you was not to race, and you betrayed me."

I'm silent now. Anything I say or do will be used against me. Instead, I pick at a loose thread on my sweater and try to calm myself down. Letting my anger get the best of me right now is not going to make her change her mind.

When I don't react, she looks to Dad, then turns back to me, her face all hard lines and edges. "You can continue to work at the track," she says, which surprises me. "You made an obligation to your employers and I'm not going to make you break it, but you won't race. You won't ride. We'll be taking your bike and we will be dropping you to and from school from now on, as well as to your shifts."

I wince. "For how long?"

Her eyes darken. She looks at Dad. "Until we can trust you again."

"So, never then."

"That," she says, her expression pointed, "is entirely up to you."

My fury starts to rise again. "Can I be excused?"

"Yes," Dad says. "Make sure you're down for dinner."

"Noted." I hurry upstairs and into the safety of my bedroom, closing the door shut behind me. With my back to the wall, I breathe in and out, in and out, trying to silence the rage inside, but it only grows stronger. After all of the practice I've put in so far, the countless training with Tyler, I'm not even going to make it to the qualifying rounds.

Everything was for nothing.

When Kianna calls, she senses something is wrong straight away and stops her story about the drama in English to listen to me vent. I go on and on, talking about how unfair my parents are and how everything is ruined, until finally, she says, "Why don't you just work on your dad? Get him on your side."

"I don't like the thought of pitting my parents against each other," I say. "They're kind of already on shaky ground."

"Then you'll have to keep lying to them," she says simply. "It's the only solution. I mean, if this is what you really want–"

"It is," I insist."

"Then you have no choice," she continues. "Your mom is being overprotective, and I get it and all, but now it's ruining my best friend's dreams, and I can't allow that."

I sigh, wishing there was a solution where I could ride and be honest, but my mother and I are as equally as stubborn: there's no compromising.

"Roxanna!" Mom calls from the hallway. Her use of my full name indicates she's still mad. "Dinner is ready!"

I tell Kianna I'll message her later and hang up before making my way downstairs. Dinner is a silent affair. Nobody speaks as Mom serves up food, and then we chomp away on meatloaf in silence. I want to throw myself at their feet and beg them for mercy, but knowing how my mother operates, it won't do much good. Her decision is final, and I can either accept my fate or spin more lies, neither of which seem like great options.

Back in my bedroom, I flop on my bed, defeated, and turn to the wall. I'm still running on nerves from the fight downstairs, so my stomach feels all fluttery. I think about curling into a ball and trying to sleep, but the ping of my phone makes me pause. I pull it from my nightstand, surprised to find a message from Tyler.

That's it, just three words, but they do something strange to my heartbeat. I smile despite myself.

I stare at my phone for a reply that doesn't come. With a long, drawn-out breath, I put my phone back, pull my covers right over my face, and fall into a numbing sleep.

❤️