Excerpt from Holding Fast by Emma Sanders
Wesley Webb turned his wheel to face the front straight, beginning the last lap of the race.
“You’re looking good,” his spotter, Kevin, said in earplugs that had long-since burned a hole in his head. “Don’t push it, you need a good finish.”
Kevin knew him well enough to know he’d push himself through the last lap and take chances he shouldn’t take. But a good finish wasn’t what it was about for him. It was about winning, and coming into turn two, Wesley was confident the win was in his hands.
“Watch Peppy to your left.”
Wesley gripped the wheel as though pulling himself towards the finish line. His heart pounded and with every beat, it seemed to pull Peppy closer to him. Wesley held his breath, as if to slow his rival’s advance.
This win was important to him, in more ways than one. First, to mentally prepare himself for the rest of the season. Second, because Peppy won last year and third, because he loved to win.
“Focus, focus,” Wesley said to himself as he let out a breath and took another one in, this time through his nose. Maybe he should take up yoga. He’d heard plenty about it, and if it’d help him relax the tightening in his chest, it’d be worth a try.
Peppy pushed him closer to the wall and Wesley had to concentrate in order to outmaneuver his tricks.
“You’re almost there,” Kevin said. “Don’t get too close to the wall.”
“Stay with me,” Wesley said to his car, to his spotter, to God and to whoever the hell else wanted to listen.
He only needed to maintain his lead for a few more seconds.
He heard Kevin’s shriek but it was too late. Peppy clipped Wesley on the rear corner and the car whipped around. He frantically tried to steer out of the skid. For a moment, he thought control was within reach until the tire’s sidewalls dug into the soft earth of the infield.
The car flipped over and over. He had no idea where his car landed, what the damage would be if he ever made it out of this cage.
Or what he’d do when he got his hands around Peppy’s neck.