When he put it like that, I understood what he was doing. Creating a legacy. A way for this to continue, even when he wasn’t around it daily.
“Rolling onto the track now your reigning World of Outlaws champion, from Bartlett Tennessee the Solar Seals number ninety-nine of Rager Sweet.”
You could hear the crowd roar to life at the announcement of Rager on the track. My heart thumped wildly in my chest when Rager’s black and yellow sprint car shot down the front stretch. With a throaty echo bouncing off the wall, his car slid into turns one and two, his right rear up against the cushion as a layer of dust hovered in the air.
Kinsley made her way up into the stands, her cheeks bright red and sweat collecting at her temples. I reached up to help her sit down, my eyes trained on Rager and his smooth movements on the track. He even managed to avoid the dip in three that seemed to be shaving seconds off everyone’s lap times.
“Where’d Caden end up?” Unscrewing the cap to her water bottle, Kinsley chugged it, and then sighed. “I couldn’t hear the announcement over my own breathing.”
“Third quick,” I told her, typing out a Tweet for the JAR Racing page I couldn’t trust Hayden to update any longer. She got into a tweeting war with a fan over them calling Axel a lazy racer. We no longer allowed her to have any social media.
“Are you feeling okay?” Dad asked Kinsley, staring at her. “Please tell me you’re not going into labor.”
“Oh my God,” Kinsley gasped, scowling at Dad. “Why would you even suggest that?”
“You look…” He paused, as if he knew he needed to choose his words carefully. “Tired.”
Kinsley scowled, slamming her water bottle onto the bleacher next to her. “Is that your way of saying I look like shit?”
By the way, Kinsley fit in perfectly with our team.
“No.” Dad laughed when Hudson smacked the water bottle off the grandstands and to the ground twenty feet below us. “I didn’t say that. I said you look tired.”
“When’s your due date?” I asked, rubbing her back.
“Tuesday.” She grunted, trying to find a comfortable position. But let’s face it, when you were nine months pregnant, there was no such thing as getting comfortable.
My eyes widened and she frowned, blinking rapidly. “Tomorrow?”
“Last week,” she added, her words barely heard over the roar of Rager’s sprint car.
If I could have taken a picture of my dad’s face, I would have. It deserved to be on a poster with the words “What the fuck?” underneath it and inside the haulers.
“I thought you still had a month to go?”
“Nope. This little girl just wants to keep on cooking apparently.” Kinsley fanned herself with Dad’s hat she took from him.
“Why is everyone stealing my hats lately?” Dad motioned to the score board. “Your boy just broke the track record.”
“What?” Fuck, I hadn’t been paying attention to his qualifying run. I looked up to see the score board flashing 12.331. My heart skipped a beat. Dad held the record here at a 12.653 for the last five years. Until now.
“Fucker,” Dad grumbled as he stood up, but you could tell he wasn’t entirely disappointed by it.
And then just as quickly, Jerry’s voice coming through the speakers above us in the pit bleachers. “Quick tiiiiime, at a twelve point thirty-three one. 12.331 for Rager Sweet your quick qualifier by bouncing the right rear off the wall!”
Oh, thank God! He needed a win so bad. I’d never been so happy to hear those words come from Jerry and I bet Rager would be too. I couldn’t wait to get down to his pit to congratulate him. There were still ten more cars to qualify, but something told me he’d hold onto this.
Dad stole his hat back from Kinsley and put it on his head backward. “Keep that baby inside tonight.”
“It’s not like I plan on having her at a track,” she told him, holding Hudson on her hip as we made our way from the pit bleachers.
I handed the kids off to Rosa and Lily, who took them back to the motor home for dinner. I went with Kinsley to the pits, watching her waddle. “Are you sure you’re okay? No labor pains?”
Her eyes moved from Caden in the distance to mine. “What do labor pains feel like?”
“Cramps.”
“Oh.”
“Oh,” that was all she said. Qualifying finished up by the time we made it to the pits. Distracted by the raucous in the pit area, engines running, tools clanging around and my husband’s laughter when they announced he’d held onto quick time for the night, I’d forgot about Kinsley’s overdue baby wanting to join the pre-race activities.
Rager smiled as Dad congratulated him. “Fuck, man, I had that goddamn gas pedal shoved through the fucking floor panel.”
Dad shook his head, smiling. “I did, too, and still couldn’t knock you off that top spot.”
Rager’s attention moved to mine, his smile igniting mine. “Good job. You’re in the second heat with Caden and Axel.”
Nodding, he stepped toward me, his arms finding their way around my waist. “Where are the kids? I promised Knox and Pace they could help spray down the car before the heat.”
“With Rosa.” He frowned. “And Lily,” I added, and he relaxed. “They’re eating some dinner.”
Gray finally emerged from the hauler for the first time today when she spotted Caden. “Can I spray the cars down?”
Lane handed her the Sure Shot, kneeling next to Rager’s right rear tire checking air pressure. “Knock yourself out.” He turned and stared at Jensen. “What was the stagger?”
Jensen mumbled something to him, but I couldn’t hear him over the clanking of tools and Casten’s car idling beside us.
Rager laughed when he noticed Casten. “Is he eating a cheeseburger?”
I peered over at him. “Looks that way.”
“No way I could do that. I’d have the worst stomach ache.”
It was true. Most of the guys didn’t eat before the main events. They
