Chapter 2

Cursed - WesGhost

It's mid-day, and the crowd at the track is growing by the hour. Trucks towing trailers of bikes and campers all heading in and crowding the long stretch of tarmac that makes up the pits. Everyone is prepping and setting up for the first race weekend of the season. Everyone but me, that is.

Talon, my older brother, is working on his bike under the tent next to our trailer a few feet in front of me. He doesn't fuck around. Every spare second he has is spent working on his damn bikes. Tweaking and fine-tuning everything he can to help him cross that finish line before any of the other teams. I should be doing the same, but I can't bring myself to give a shit about anything to do with my bike or the race weekend. Instead, I'm sitting here, flipping a water bottle up and down in the air.

My head is caught up on Bexley and the deep purple marks that painted her perfect fucking skin. The look in her hazel eyes when she realized I saw them reflected more than fear.

She was embarrassed.

Ashamed.

The Bexley I knew would never tolerate that shit, let alone from a guy, and the fact that he managed to break her, of all girls, has my blood boiling. I don't know what the fuck happened or who this dude is, but I plan on finding out. I'll show him what happens to scum like him. Men who prey on women and break them down. Because that is what he's done to her. To Bexley. He's broken her in every way he could, and now all that's left is the cold, empty shell of a beautiful girl that once housed the biggest and warmest of fires.

Because that is the Bexley Larson I remember.

"You gonna prep your shit or what? The R1 needs an oil change before tomorrow's heat," Talon explains as he lifts himself from the small stool next to his H2R. The heat race is the qualifier. Each competing team is made up of seven guys, and the heat race determines which three guys from each team will actually participate in the main race event on Sunday. He turns his attention to me, cocking a brow and nodding his chin at me as he pulls a rag from his back pocket and wipes his hands on it.

"Yeah, I know what my bike needs thanks, and I'll do it when I'm fucking ready," I reply with annoyance.

"When you're ready?" he laughs mockingly as he tosses the rag on the table of tools next to him. "Where the fuck is your head? We don't have time for this shit, Sayshen. Every other member of this team is prepping their shit. They are doing what they need to do to make sure they're ready for the heat race tomorrow morning. I don't give a shit that your head is off in la-la land. I'm not letting you fuck up this season for the team." His attitude strikes a nerve. He and Dad are always grinding my ass about training. Any second not spent riding my bike or working on it is a second wasted according to them, and lately, I'm just fucking tired of it.

Rising to my feet, I whip the water bottle where it smashes off the trailer. "Fuck off, Talon. I'm so fucking sick of this shit. You're acting like I don't give a shit about the team. Like, all I do is fuck up or waste my time. I work my ass off for the Demons, and you fucking know it. I train and hit the gym every fucking day. I barely have time to ride for fun anymore. So get off my back," I snap as I step up to my brother.

Barely two inches taller than me, I hold his stare. His short dark hair is damp with sweat that beads down his face, sticking to the newly grown stubble around his jaw. He, unlike me, inherited our mothers bright blue eyes, where I got stuck with our dad's deep brown eye color. It's something I've always been a little envious about. His long inked arms hang down at his sides and his fists are clenched tightly.

He's pissed.

Good, because so the fuck am I.

As if sensing the tension, Draygon pulls up on his red and black S1000—perfect timing. Talon, being himself, ignores my response and bumps his shoulder against mine as he makes his way toward Draygon. He doesn't care what I have to say—never does. Talon and Dad only hear what they want to hear, and to them, there is no excuse not to be one hundred percent focused on the team at any point in the season.

Draygon and Talon bump knuckles before he slides his helmet off his head. The dim lighting under the tent glints off his onyx hair as he pats it down with his hand and offers me a nod.

"You guys all good?" he asks as his gaze bounces from me to Talon.

Talon rolls his eyes and makes his way to the table, grabbing a wrench firmly in his hand before returning to the stool next to his bike. "Yeah, we're fine. Baby Shaw here just needed to be reminded about how important this season is to the Demons."

"The fuck I did," I seethe.

Confused, Draygon rests his elbows on his bike as he eyes us. At twenty-seven, Draygon is one of the oldest guys on the team, aside from my idiot brother, of course. But even he can agree that sometimes, Talon just doesn't know when to quit.

Talon shakes his head in disagreement, "I don't see anyone else just fucking sitting around with their head shoved up their ass, Sayshen. Do you?"

In an effort to calm shit down before it gets out of hand, Draygon turns his sights on me. "What's going on, kid? Is the R1 running okay?" he asks.

"The bike is fine," I snap as I return to my seat. "It just needs an oil change, and I don't feel like fucking doing it right now."

Confused, he furrows his brows before his eyes widen, and he laughs. "Ah! I know what's up!" he shouts, as he climbs off his bike and makes his way toward me. "It's that fucking chick. The one from the cafe. The one with the hot purple haired Latina friend, yeah? You've been in a mood since you saw her this morning. Fuck, what was her name…Becky?"

Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees as I rub my face with my hands and release a breath. "Bexley," I admit.

"Bexley? Bexley Larson? From high school?" Talon laughs manically from the other side of his bike. "Don't tell me you saw her once, and you're all fucked up in the head all over again."

"Don't you fucking start, Talon," I reply, pointing my finger at him. "You don't know what you're talking about, so just fucking stop."

He doesn't stop.

Instead, he takes it like a challenge, and stands from his stool, making his way over to me. "You're really going to let a chick get in your head right now? Right when the Demons need you focused? Really, Sayshen? A fucking piece of ass. All because she wasn't willing to be one of the desperate bitches you brought home every night in high school?"

"Someone fucking put their hands on her, Talon. She was covered in bruises," I snap. Saying it out loud enrages me even more.

"So what? Not your problem."

I stand, bringing myself to stand mere inches from Talon. "The fuck do you mean it's not my problem? I'm not going to ignore that shit."

Talon digs his finger into my chest like a parent scolding their child. "Yes the fuck you will, because Bexley ain't shit to you. She's just a girl, and there are plenty of other chicks you can fuck for a night. Bexley is a goddamn distraction, and one we can't afford."

"Will you listen to yourself?" I laugh, a coping mechanism to stop me from slamming my fist into my brother's face. "You fucking know me, Talon. If she were just some girl, I'd have been over it when she turned me down junior year."

"You turned her denial into a fucking game, Sayshen. Everyone knows it. You wanted her because you couldn't have her. Well, guess what? You still can't. Not only does she clearly have a man in her life, but I'll be damned if you're going to end up back in the black hole that is Bexley fucking Larson."

"Listen, I think you both need to─"

"Fuck you," I spit, cutting Draygon's words off before shoving my brothers chest with my hands. I'm over this shit. It's a waste of my time and energy. The R1 can wait till the morning. Besides, ain't shit keeping me from winning tomorrow's heat, even if it's just to shut Talon up. I grab a beer from the cooler next to the chair and make my way back inside the trailer.

"Well shit, I didn't see─" Draygon starts, but his sentence is cut off by the sound of me slamming the trailer door. I'm not pissed at him. He didn't expect Talon to fly off on me like he did.

Just like I never expected to see Bexley Larson at the Seaside Cafe.

She's the last person I'd have thought to see there this morning, especially since it's a spot we frequent and I've never run into her before. I haven't seen much of her in person since high school, but that hasn't stopped me from stalking her socials. Which unfortunately for me, are all set to private, limiting what I can see. I'll admit, I wasn't surprised to find out she had a boyfriend in her life, but it didn't make the sting of the information any less brutal. Bexley has been my dream girl since junior year. The one girl I'll always want but probably never get.

It did make the chase more fun, though. She was different from the other girls, and I mean, maybe it's the competitive side in me, but the harder she made the game, the more I wanted to win.

As much as I'm pissed off at my brother, I have to admit, he is right about one thing. The moment I saw those marks on Bex, my whole world was flipped upside down. I can handle never having her and I was fine with her living her life and being happy without me being a part of it. But I'm not going to sit back and ignore what's happening to her. There is not a fucking chance that's happening.

After seeing her today, I don't care what it takes or what I have to sacrifice to help her get her fire back. Even if it means losing the race.

I can hear Talon and Draygon talking outside. Talon is still heated from our little disagreement, from the sounds of it. Draygon is trying to get him to calm down before people start asking questions, or Andre hears him. The last thing we need is our coach hearing him go off and worrying about cracks in the team.

The first round of heat races start at eight am sharp, and as much as I don't want to focus on racing, I know I can't miss them. I'm going to have to get up even earlier to prep the R1 and change it's oil because there is no way in fucking hell I'm going back out there tonight to listen to my brothers bullshit.

Popping open my can of beer, I plop down on the small couch and pull my cell out of the pocket of my gray sweats. As I bring the beer to my lips, I open my search browser and type Bexley's name into the search bar. A list of her socials pop up, with a few updated photos but nothing about a boyfriend. Her pictures show no evidence of anything going on behind the scenes. She looks happy and healthy. Like she's enjoying life. Not that I'm surprised. Her behavior today tells me she does her best to hide it from the world.

A new photo I haven't seen yet pops up in the feed. She's standing outside Tampa University, and she looks fucking stunning as always. Ripped mom jeans with a cute black crop top that shows off her petite figure. Her thick black hair slicked back into a long high ponytail at the back of her head. Simple, and yet Bexley could make any outfit look fucking fantastic.

Clicking it, I head to the comments, hoping to find some sign of the piece of shit who hit her. But there's nothing. Her friends have commented telling her the basic shit like how cute she looks or commenting about missing her. I do, however, end up learning that she's attending Tampa University as a Fashion Major in the fall. She wants to be a designer and create her own line of clothing and accessories. Good for her.

My lips pull into a smirk, and the weight of the argument with my brother seems to dissipate as I scroll through photos of Bexley, which I've seen at least a thousand times but never tire of because it's the closest I've ever been able to get to her. Tracing my thumb over the screen of my phone, I follow the curve of her perfect smile.

Don't worry, Bex. That guy who thought he could hurt you is about to realize his mistake. I'm coming for you, and this time, I'm not stopping until you're mine.