It definitely felt like that. I wanted to ask my mom, but then again, I didn’t want to worry her. She’d already been nagging me yearly to get an early mammogram even though I wasn’t even thirty yet. I couldn’t blame her. I’d be on Bristol too.
“She’s so stinking cute I want to eat her up!” Hayden said, peeking at the newborn in Kinsley’s hands as we sat outside the haulers.
They hadn’t started with the pre-race activities yet, so we felt safe having the kids in the pits.
“Don’t eat my baby.” Kinsley held Jameson Grace closer. We started referring to her as her full name because it got really confusing when someone would say oh, Jameson is so cute, and my dad would stare at them as if they’d lost their minds.
Texas was fucking hot. No matter what time of the year, in my opinion. Probably wasn’t the case, but whatever. Today was a scorcher. And really hot to have a newborn baby at the track, but that’s the life if you have kids and you’re racing. Kinsley never missed a beat after having Jameson. She went to the hospital that night, checked out the next morning and they were back on the road. Though she claimed she knew nothing about taking care of a baby, Hayden and I prided ourselves in contributing to her readiness for little Jameson by leaving our kids with her so much.
“I think she looks like me,” Rosa noted, a White Claw in hand, and a hot dog in the other.
Smiling, I watched Rager trying to change the gears on his car with a set frown on his face.
I stared at my husband and though I was distracted by the sweat on his arms and the grease on his hands, I thought I’d offer some assistance. Maybe then his mood would improve. Doubtful, but I tried. “Do you need help?”
Rager snorted, his grip slipping for the fourth time. “Yeah, hold my dick.”
Rosa jumped up, spilling her White Claw. “Now’s my chance, bitches.”
Part of me wanted to stop her because I wasn’t sure what he’d do.
To our disappointment, he walked away from her without words. I wouldn’t go as far as to say Rager was in a bad mood since he won at Stockton, but he also wasn’t in a great mood. Since then we’d been to Ocean Speedway. He blew a motor there. Calistoga Speedway he dropped a cylinder. Keller Auto Speedway in Hanford, he finished third. Perris Auto Speedway… not great. Another DNF when he and Ricky Hagen—a lapped car at the time—got into him with one lap to go and he was leading the race. USA Raceway, Arizona Speedway… two top five finishes, but no wins.
Caden had been on a winning streak though. He’d figured out something and won the last six straight races on the last lap. He’d earned the nickname “The Closer” from Jerry and the guys in the pits. And though it sucked that Rager was struggling, everyone was excited that JAR Racing now held the top five spots in the WoO standings.
I watched Rager most of the afternoon. He and Caden were deep in conversation about track conditions when Kinsley smiled at me. “He thinks the world of Rager.”
The statement, though it caught me off guard, didn’t surprise me. Rager, much like my dad, had that effect on most drivers. Even my brothers—though you’d never get Casten to admit this—looked up to Rager if not for his ability to wheel a race car, but for his patience with the sport. Sure, he wasn’t having the best year, but that proved right there what a versatile driver he was.
And Caden, he had all the makings to be one of the best as well. “Rager really enjoys having him on the team,” I told her, trying to smell her baby’s head.
She laughed and awkwardly positioned Jameson’s head closer to me. “They smell so good, don’t they?”
I nodded. “Until they turn two and they smell like dirt and farts.” I had three little boys. Everything smelled like poop and you had to actually question whether it was poop or not. Most of the time it wasn’t.
“You ready for the autograph session?” Lily asked, Savannah on her hip and Jacen holding her hand. I had to do a double take at Jacen for a moment though. He looked just like Jack and my breath caught. Blond wavy hair, bright blue eyes and pink cheeks.
Smiling up at me, he handed me a T-shirt. “Auntie Hayden said you need to wear this.”
I made my way around the other side of the hauler to retrieve my phone and the keys to the motor home. “I should?”
“Yeah.” Lily set Savannah on her feet when she noticed Bristol and started to squirm. Bristol and Savannah were best friends. If you saw one, the other was near. “She thought it’d be funny since Rager hates it when you wear his shirts.”
“Savy!” Bristol called out to her, carrying a bag in one hand and a water bottle that looked like she’d dropped about a million times in the dirt. “I got you a cookie!”
“Where’d you get a cookie?” I asked Bristol.
“Grandma made them.” She stared up at me, pushing her hair from her dirty face. Yes, 90 percent of the time my kids were head to toe covered in dirt, but they were loved and happy.
But then I thought, damn, my mom made cookies and didn’t bring me any? Rude.
Just as I was going to hunt down said cookies, Mom appeared with a bin full of them.
The girls and I made it to the autograph session with the kids. They loved being a part of when their dads were out in the public.
Standing in line with Hayden and Lily, they laughed about the reactions the guys were going to have with us wearing Casten’s Racing apparel. I wasn’t laughing. I knew the reaction my husband was going to have.
Lifting my gaze to the row
