7. Brayden

I'm still nursing my hangover when there's a loud banging on my hotel door. No. Not again.

No matter what Carson wants, the answer is no. And not because I'm old, damn it. Just because I'm not an irresponsible idiot. Waking up nearly naked next to a very naked Carson this morning was not a good experience.

I mean, okay sure, if I didn't know him—if we were total strangers—yeah, I'd have been happy as hell to wake up next to a warm naked body. I'd have been all over him.

It's been far too long since I've gotten laid.

But it wasn't a stranger. It was Carson. The goddamn Rookie. What the hell was I thinking? I mean, I know nothing happened, but still, we got drunk together and passed out in the same bed.

That's crossing the professional line, no matter how you look at it.

More knocking.

I grumble and groan all the way to the door, pulling it open and ready to chew Carson out for being a pain in my ass. But I stop short when I see Jenny standing there, dressed in a black pant suit and heels, hand on one hip and ready for a fight.

Shit. Am I in trouble?

"Have fun last night?" she asks. She looks angry. But I also just think that's her face.

Shit."No." It comes out more like a question than a statement though. Clearly something is up.

She raises her hand, her phone unlocked, revealing a picture of Carson and me at the bar. His arm is around my shoulder, and we're both smiling like goofy goddamn idiots.

"Fuck."

She laughs. She actually seems entertained by this, and I just glare at her as she puts her phone in her pocket and walks past me, moving into my hotel room. Just like with Carson, I don't bother fighting it.

I close the door and walk back into the room, sitting down next to Jenny on the couch. "Fuck," I say again.

She keeps laughing. "I didn't know you knew how to smile."

I glare at her, and she only laughs harder. "Could say the same about you."

"I know, right?" she says totally seriously. "I love my resting bitch face, and I thought we had that in common, but you sure looked like you were having fun."

"I was drunk."

She cackles, and I glare. "So he got to you, huh?"

I bristle. "Of course not. He's just a pain in the ass and wouldn't go away. So I went to have a drink with him."

"Lots of drinks." She smirks. "I'm assuming you were totally shitfaced, according to the video."

I groan, covering my face and leaning back into the couch. "There's video?"

"There's always video," she says, but she doesn't sound mad at all, so at least there wasn't anything truly unsavory.

No pictures of Carson bare-assed and me in my boxer briefs. That's good. Thank fuck for small favors.

"So I'm guessing you're not in love with him."

I drop my hands and turn my head to look at her. "Are you kidding? Love? I don't even like him."

Again with the cackling. I groan, but she doesn't stop laughing for a bit. She's enjoying this way too much. "Okay. Well then, I'm here to talk business. So sit up. Man up and get ready."

I want to argue and tell her to get the fuck out, but that's not the way things work with Jenny. She'll leave, but she'll take my balls with her. Just carry them right out in her designer handbag.

"Fine." I sit up and turn my body a little so I'm facing her. "What's going on? Here to tell me that they're canning me because I'm way too fucking old now?" It's supposed to be a joke, but my throat nearly closes up when I say it.

My greatest fear is way too close to the surface.

Thankfully, her pretty eyes only roll and roll hard. "Do not say you're old. You're thirty-one, and I will fucking cut you if you say that's old again."

I can't fight the very small smile on my lips, but it quickly turns into a deep frown. "But it's been ten years, and they're tired of me?" It wasn't supposed to be a question. I hate being so damn vulnerable, but that's the way it came out, regardless.

"No." She sighs though. "They just have a vision."

"A vision?" I ask, already knowing I'm going to hate this. I hate the PR bullshit. Always have. Always will. I don't want to play their games. I just want to race.

"Yeah, they brought Carson on because he's new and fresh." I try not to wince, but I do, and she sees it. Luckily, she just carries on. "But you, you're experienced. Polished. You're the legend."

I want to roll my eyes. I'm thirty-one. But I get it. There are more and more rookies these days. "So what does that mean?"

"It means they want that. They're very excited about a possible bromance."

"What?" I swear my jaw has dropped. "A bromance? Between Carson and me?"

She's smirking, but luckily she's stopped laughing or I think I'd lose it. "Yes. They love it. The brand-new rookie and the experienced ace—best friends. They want full-on hanging out all the time. Best men at each other's weddings. Going on vacations together. Mahomes and Kelce. Bromance."

She's dead serious too. I can see it on her face. It says do not fight me on this, but how the hell could I not? This is crazy. "No."

Her mouth turns into a firm, straight line. "I won't bullshit you, Brayden. You know that. I'll always give it to you straight."

This is so not good. I know it before she even says it.

"This has to happen. It's why they recruited Carson. It's why he's here. He's here for you and the PR team's vision."

"You've got to be kidding me."

She cocks her head to the side, her eyes deadly serious, and I know she isn't joking. I already knew that. "You're smart, Brayden."

I fill in the blanks with what she's not saying. "They'll cut me from the team if I don't do this."

She gives a clipped nod. "But it doesn't matter because you're going to do this." She stands up from the couch, the conversation pretty much over. Jenny doesn't ever stay longer than she needs to. Too many fires to put out all over the place.

"Maybe I'm tired of playing their games," I say with no conviction because even if I am, it doesn't matter. I can't leave this team. It's part of me. It has been since I started. It defines me, no matter how much I hate it.

I stand up, and she looks me in the eyes. "Maybe you are. And if you are, I'll help you get signed to another team or retire. Whatever you want, but..."

But we both know I don't want that. It would kill me. "Right."

She looks like she wants to say something, and when she doesn't, I'm surprised. She usually doesn't hold back.

"Look, he's a good kid. And he's a talented racer."

I snort at that. "Come on, Jenny."

A small smile graces her lips. "He is. We both know he has raw talent. You can't teach that. You're born with it, and he was. He just needs fine-tuning. They want to see you do that for him. They want you to teach him, take him under your wing, and then befriend him. Nearly inseparable."

I fight a deep, dying sort of groan, but just barely. This is not me. I don't want to do this. "Careful, you sound like a racing fan."

She grins now, heading toward the door. "I now manage seven of you racing shitheads. Of course I have to pay attention to the sport. And you know I'm right."

I do know.

And it pisses me off.