Jace:
Saturday had been incredible. Which was probably why Sunday morning felt like getting hit by a truck. I woke up before sunrise with the taste of stale beer in my mouth, a crick in my neck, and absolutely no idea where my phone was. For a few seconds, I just stared at the ceiling. Then everything came rushing back. The race. The kid. Bubblegum. Calla. I rolled onto my back. "Well, shit." The weekend had been fun. Actually fun. The kind of fun I hadn't had in years. I'd raced. I'd laughed. I'd talked to old friends. Calla had driven again. And for one night, Calusa Cove had almost felt like home. Almost. Then Monday came. Reality always did.
I pulled the old Chevy into Riverbend Self Storage just after seven. The lot was mostly empty. The sun was barely over the horizon, painting the
