Chapter 377: Coming With You

Lucas and Rechelle were almost gone when Buster found his voice again.

He was still down near the wreck, blood dried ugly across one side of his face, and the sound that tore out of him was half scream, half curse. He called Lucas every name he still had strength for, loud enough that the front of the lot finally turned. Girls who had been watching the BMW stopped mid-laugh. A few phones swung around. For a second people actually remembered he was still there, still alive, still embarrassing himself on the same track that had already moved on without him.

What he wanted was payment.

The Mark II was finished. Not scratched. Not waiting on a clever shop. It had gone into the barrier and died there, five million dollars of pride turned into folded metal and glass. That car had been the first thing people noticed about him on this lot. Now it was scrap, and the man who put it there was about to leave like the morning had only been a warm-up. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

Buster kept shouting anyway.

Lucas glanced over once. The look was flat, almost bored, the way a person looks at someone already past reason. Then he walked to the BMW, opened the passenger door for Rechelle, and waited while she got in. He took his own seat, shut the door on the noise, and pulled away without giving Buster another second of his time.

Behind them, Buster was still going.

A couple of girls near the fence laughed under their breath. Someone else winced and turned away. The old champion of the lot was on the ground beside a dead car, screaming about money at a BMW that was already leaving, and not one person walked over to help him up. The humiliation had weight to it. It also had a cruel kind of comedy, the kind that made people stare and then pretend they had not.

The BMW slid into the road and the lot fell behind them.

Along the fence, the other girls watched Rechelle leave and hated her for it. She got the race, the kiss, and the ride out with the guy who just wrecked Buster. To them, she looked like the luckiest one there.

Inside the car, the engine settled and the noise thinned.

Lucas kept his eyes on the road.

"Where to?"

Rechelle took her time before she answered.

The track was still sitting under her skin, and it was not the crowd or Buster’s screaming that stayed with her. It was the way he had driven. She had pushed him into that race thinking she knew what she was asking for. She thought she understood the risk. She had been wrong.

From the barrier it had looked sharp. Up close, with the road moving under them now, it felt heavier. He had defended when Buster came for him, attacked when the line opened, and never once looked like a man losing control. He stayed calm the whole way through, then put a local champion into the wall and drove off like the morning had only asked for a little effort.

She had underestimated him.

That part was hard to sit with.

"I didn’t think you could drive like that," she said.

It came out quieter than she meant.

She watched his hands on the wheel for a second, steady and unbothered, then looked back out at the road. The next question took longer to reach her mouth. She already knew the race had cost more than noise and pride. A car had been torn up in the process, and she could not pretend that part did not matter.

"Do you have any plans for another car?"

She wanted him to take one from her.

Any one he liked. She had the collection for it, and after what protecting her had already cost him, the offer felt like the least she could put on the table. Sitting there beside him, watching the road move under the BMW, she finally felt the weight of it more clearly. He had stood between her and the men sent to take her. He had handled the danger when her world turned violent. The fact that he was still here, still calm, did not erase what that protection had taken from him, including the car he lost in the process.

"You can pick from mine," she said. "Whatever you want. You’re a car guy. Take the one you actually like."

Lucas did not reach for the offer.

"Don’t bother," he said. "I’ve got a dealer. Anything I need, she can get."

He said the name like it had been sitting unused for a while.

Bennett.

It had been a long time since the two of them had been in proper contact. Long enough that reaching out now would feel deliberate. The damaged morning gave him a clean reason to do it, and he was already turning that over as a useful side effect of the mess.

Rechelle felt the reaction land before she could hide it.

Sudden joy moved through her so fast she had to keep her face still. She had her own dealer too. She could have said so. She could have competed with the name he just put in the air. She chose not to. If Bennett was the door he wanted to walk through, then staying near that process was still an opportunity. Quiet was smarter than fighting for credit she did not need yet.

She turned toward him while he drove.

"Would you mind me coming with you?"

The words left her a little too quickly. She heard it, paused, and covered the edge in her voice.

"I can give you a few suggestions. That’s all."

Lucas let the request hang for a moment.

Her knowledge was real. She lived deeper in car culture than he sometimes bothered to. If she came along, the choices would be sharper, and he knew it. The help was practical. The company was secondary, but not useless.

"No problem," he said. "That would be helpful."

He thanked her without making it heavier than it needed to be.

Rechelle sat back with the answer warm in her chest. It was not a grand victory. It was simpler than that. She would still be with him for the next stretch of the day, close enough to matter while he moved on from the wreckage they had left behind. For now, that was enough.