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truck roaring around the track. They’d already started.

    He’d known they would have. Hell, the other drivers had all been bused here earlier in the day. Adam hadn’t wanted to leave Lindsey alone for any longer than necessary, so Becca had excused him from the pretest tour of the race shops and the briefings—those he’d received via mail. Frankly, she’d probably excused him because she really didn’t want him to show up. And why would she? They had plenty of qualified drivers to see that day. Rebecca Newman probably hadn’t even noticed his absence.

    You’re a fool for wondering if she thought of you at all.

    But he couldn’t deny the fact that she was part of the reason why he was here.

    Face it, Adam—you’re plumb terrified.

    His cell phone rang, causing him to jump. He glanced down at the caller ID, recognizing Lindsey’s best friend’s cell phone. He didn’t know why she’d asked for a cell phone when she always used her friend’s. But Lindsey was the other reason why he was here and so he answered.

    Silence greeted his hello and then, “You don’t sound like you’re at the track.”

    That little observation was undoubtedly the result of too many Saturdays spent out at the local speedway. “Actually, I’m sitting outside of the track,” Adam admitted. He felt like a kid caught sneaking out of school.

    “Da-ad. It’s eleven o’clock. You should have been there three hours ago!”

    “And you should be at school.”

    “I’m at lunch.”

    “And talking on the cell phone at school isn’t allowed.”

    “I’m in the bathroom. Nobody can see me.”

    “You still shouldn’t be—”

    “Da-ad. Don’t change the subject. Why aren’t you at the track?”

    “I got lost.”

    “Sure you did,” she said, and in the background he heard the sound of a toilet flush.

    “You really are in a bathroom.”

    “You’re trying to change the subject.”

    “I got lost,” he repeated, suddenly feeling like the child in the relationship. The truth was he had gotten lost, but not enough to make him three hours late. He’d been driving around—thinking.

    “You should have brought me along,” Lindsey said. “I’d have made sure you got there on time.”

    “Lindsey, don’t start,” he said, his hand clutching the black steering wheel, the thing warming beneath the hot North Carolina sun. “I told you there was no way you were missing another day of school, not after your last trip down here. Consider this part of your punishment.”

    “You just don’t want me there,” she said.

    He didn’t. He couldn’t stand the thought of his little girl, the one who stared at him with hero worship in her eyes—most of the time, anyway—watching her dear old dad fall flat on his face.

    “It’s better this way.”

    She sighed. One of those you’re-so-wrong-even-if-you-don’t-know-it sighs. Adam realized he’d better stop her before this conversation spiraled into a complete role reversal.

    “Lindsey, I’ve got to go. Obviously, I’m late.”

    “Then why are you sitting outside the track?”

    Because I’ve got stage fright.

    “I’m waiting to go through security.” And now he was lying to his little girl.

    “Oh,” she said. And when she spoke again Adam could hear the longing in her voice. “Good luck, Dad,” she said.

    “Thanks, Lin.”

    He started his truck again, his foot hovering over the accelerator. But in the end he realized he had no choice. He had to go through with it. As humiliating as it would be, if he didn’t try taking a lap or two Lindsey would be devastated. Plus, what kind of an example would it set if he chickened out? This was the opportunity of a lifetime—as she’d so aptly reminded him—and the fact that Lindsey had somehow managed to orchestrate it only made it all the more important.

    He had to do it. Dammit.

    “WHERE IS HE?”

    “Where’s who?” Cece Sanders asked, tipping her head back to peer up at Rebecca.

    They sat on