I love two things in this world: racing and Greer Hammond.
Racing because of the adrenaline rush as I fly around the kart track and Greer, because she’s perfect. According to my best friend, Greg, I have a better chance of becoming the next Michael Schumacher than dating his big sister. Not that he understands why I would want her to begin with.
“She’s old and ugly,” Greg would argue, his nose scrunching in distaste.
“She is not. Take that back. Greer is the most beautiful woman in the world.”
And so it went with the two of us, although his observations never swayed my affections. In my eyes, she’s the ideal woman, and one day, she will be mine.
My other goal? An F1 world championship.
I may only be ten, but I have goals. No, they’re not dreams, because I plan on making them my reality, and that’s what I’ve told my parents since I was seven. My mother claims I was born old, whatever that means.
I’ve always known what I wanted, and what I could live without.
It’s a fairly easy breakdown.
Unfortunately, my life is not so easy at the moment. My father has the big C, the dreaded cancer. My folks hid it from me for a while, thinking I couldn’t figure out something was wrong. Suddenly my tough-as-nails father couldn’t move from the bed and was too weak to attend my races.
He never missed a race before.
It wasn’t a difficult deduction.
Now, he spends his days in the cancer ward of Memorial Sloan Kettering. I didn’t know any hospital names before Dad’s cancer. I’d have been happy to keep it that way.
Mom didn’t want to leave Dad alone during his treatments, but she knew a hospital was no place for a boy my age. Besides, how would I get to the track every Friday and Saturday? Dad had one request after he discovered he was sick—that my life change as little as possible.
Lucky for me, my best friend is also into racing, and Greg’s parents were more than willing to let me spend the summer with them, trucking us both back and forth to the kart track. When I say parents, I mean Greg’s mom. His dad is rarely around anymore, spending every evening working late at the office.
A huge work project, or something.
But Mrs. Hammond? She drives us to the track without fail, ensuring she keeps the promise my father made to me when I started racing.
See, I’m good. Really good. I win almost every race and after the last one, I heard people—total strangers—claiming I’m the next big thing.
So, I know I’m going to make it. That’s why I can’t miss a single race or practice.
I miss my dad being at the races, though. He always supported me, even though he hoped I would change my mind about racing and become a doctor. I have the IQ, but medicine never interested me.
He doesn’t want me wasting my big brain, but I’m not. Racing encompasses all sorts of math and science, my two favorite subjects in school.
Mainly, Dad wants me happy.
For the most part, I am, especially when I have a front-row seat to Greer as she lounges by the pool. It doesn’t matter that she only sees me as her younger brother’s friend.
One day, she’ll see me for who I really am.
“Stop staring at my sister,” Greg hisses, tossing a wet towel in my direction.
I flip him the bird, but my gaze never falters. How can it? She’s the perfect woman—well, almost woman. She’s eighteen, with tan legs and long, dark hair that swings against her hips when she walks. Plus, she has a smile that lights up her face and freckles dusting her nose. I could stare at her forever and never tire of the view.
“Dude, are you listening?”
With a sigh, I shift my attention to Greg. “Yeah, I heard you, but it won’t work.”
“Why not?” Greg stares at the racing magazine, his hands forming the imaginary parts in the air. “The more air the engine gets, the faster it moves. You know that.”
“It’s a torque issue.”
A look of understanding passes over my friend’s face, and he begins scribbling furiously in his notebook. Greg loves racing as much as I do, but his passion isn’t the wind whipping past your face as you take the inside corner. It’s the idea of building a car to generate that feeling.
We’re a perfect team.
“What are you two doing?”
I shoot a smile in Mrs. Hammond’s direction. She’s an older version of her daughter, and she’s been super nice to me this entire summer, even that one time when the nightmares got a bit too real.
That night, she and Greer sat me on the couch, one on either side of me, as we watched Mortal Kombat, per my request. I was so embarrassed Greer saw me cry, but she was totally cool with it. She never brought it up once, not even to Greg.
See? Told you she was perfect.
“Stuff, Mom,” Greg grumbles. That’s his standard greeting where his mother is concerned.
I don’t get it.
“Greg, Ryder, I’m going out for a bit. Greer is in charge.”
“I hate when Greer watches us.” Greg may not like the idea of his big sister being the boss, but I’m thrilled.
Jabbing him in the arm, I shoot him a reassuring smile. “She’s not that bad. It’ll be cool.”
“That’s because you love her and want to marry her. Yuck.”
“I think it’s sweet,” Mrs. Hammond retorts, shooting Greg a dark-eyed gaze. I know that look. She’s had enough of his lip, and unless he wants to spend the evening in his room, he’d better quit. “But, I’m afraid Greer is too old for you, honey.”
I’ve heard this argument before. It never deters me. “Maybe now, but it won’t always be that way.”
She chuckles, shaking her head. “You are such a precocious child. An old soul, Ryder Gray.”
Another one using that term to describe me. “What does that mean?”
“It means you’re not a pain in the ass like my brother.”
A grin splits my face as Greer enters the conversation. “I’m way cooler than him.”
She laughs, and it’s as beautiful a sound as an engine purring. Maybe more so. “Isn’t everyone?”
Greg lobs a pool noodle at Greer, but she sidesteps it easily. “Can everyone be quiet? I’m working.”
Greer rolls her eyes at her brother before meeting my gaze, nodding toward the house. “Want some dinner?”
“Sure. I’ll help you cook.”
“I want dinner. I’m hungry.” Now Greg is all too eager to enter the conversation.
“I thought you wanted peace and quiet, Greg.”
“Nah. Dinner sounds way better.”
Greer plants a hand on her hip, sending him a glare. “You’re not two. You’re ten. Make yourself some mac and cheese.”
“Come on. Can’t you do it?”
Greer shakes her head, her lips pursed in a thin line. But she’s not mad. She’s trying to hold back the laughter. Despite appearances, she adores her little brother. Sometimes, I think she even adores me. “What are you going to do when I’m gone?”
Greg shrugs, unaffected by the question, but it’s a topic I hate to consider. This is Greer’s last summer at home. She leaves for college this weekend. She wants to be a doctor, and I know she’s smart enough. She’s the smartest woman I know.
But her college is hours away, and she’ll only be home for holidays. That’s why this summer was so important. I got to spend time with her. At first, she barely spoke to me. A quick wave or smile was the extent of our friendship. But then Greg had to go to the dentist, and they left me alone with Greer.
I found her lounging in her usual poolside haunt, headphones in her ears as she rocked out to whatever obscure music she had discovered. Normally, I kept my distance, but that day I sat next to her, asking about the music and bands and why she loved them.
Before I knew it, we were sharing her headphones, so I could experience the sound firsthand.
After that, I tagged along with her to the record store, though I’m not sure what’s so exciting about the pieces of vinyl. I like music, but I prefer black on tires. But Greer? She adores the music of the sixties and seventies, even though it’s technically not cool by teenage standards. The best part about her is she doesn’t care what others define as cool; she follows her own path.
Slowly, over those couple of months, I morphed from being another pain in the butt kid to someone she talked to. Confided in, even. We spoke about college and how she was worried to leave home. She sensed something was wrong between her parents, and I couldn’t deny she was probably right.
I told her about my big dreams, and she made me pinky promise I wouldn’t give up on them. The only dream I didn’t mention? That one day she would be mine.
But our greatest moment? The night she played an Otis Redding tune and told me how she couldn’t wait to fall in love and dance to this exact song. I didn’t understand all the lyrics, but I knew one thing—I’d play that song for her one day.
Now, there’s only two days before the coolest, most beautiful woman in my world leaves, and I’m not going to be there to say goodbye. I have a race this weekend, and it’s one I can’t miss.
“I wish you could see me race, Gigi,” I mutter, my gaze glued to the floor.
She’s Greer to strangers, but her friends and family always call her Gigi. After that day by the pool, she told me I could call her that, too.
I was in.
“I’m sorry, Ryder. I know you’re going to win, though.”
“I know.”
Another chuckle flies from her lips as she ruffles my hair. “Your ego is certainly intact.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Never change, Ryder Gray.”
Greg huffs out a breath. He’s grown tired of my friendship with his sister. It takes time away from our plans to conquer the world of racing.
I’m not worried. I plan to do both.
“He has a crush on you, Gigi. I think it’s gross.”
Greg did not just say that in front of her. I focus my blue-eyed glare on my best friend—former best friend—as he spills the beans about my feelings for his sister. “Shut up, Greg, or I’ll tell everyone how you ate your own snot at the last race.”
Greer’s face contorts in disgust. “That’s nasty, Greg.” Planting her hands on her hips, she directs her attention to me. “Is that true, Ryder? Do you have a crush on me?”
Now my entire body is awash in embarrassment. Staring at the floor, I scuff my shoe at the edge of the tile. “Yes.”
She tips up my chin, making me meet those dark, luminous eyes. “That’s really sweet, and I think you’re really sweet, but I’m way too old for you.”
“One day you won’t be, though,” I argue. “One day we’ll all be grown-ups.”
A grin flashes across her face, lighting her up. “I suppose you’re right. But I bet when you’re a grownup, you won’t have a crush on me anymore. You’ll become a famous F1 racer and forget all about me.”
“Never.” I mean it, too. I’ll never forget Greer.
“Hmm, we’ll see.” She smiles, releasing a soft sigh. “How about this, then? Many years from now, when we’re both grownups, you come find me. Do we have a deal, Ryder?”
Greer extends her hand, and I waste no time sealing my future. “I’ll never forget you, Gigi. I will find you again.”
