Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

His cheeks flush. Looks like my new mate has a crush. “So, what’s up with you two? Are you dating?”

“No.”

“Banging?”

“No.” I roll my eyes.

“Snogging?”

“Is there a reason for the round of twenty questions?” I tuck my hands in my race suit’s pockets and lean against my car.

Caleb grins. “Oh, yeah. Definitely snogging. Nice.” He offers me his fist to pound. I let him have his moment, hoping he leaves the conversation about Elena alone.

“So, when are you going to upgrade from kisses to more?”

And there goes my attempt to satisfy his curiosity. “You know, maybe we should head to the press room instead of the racetrack. With the questions you’re asking, I feel like you might enjoy that more.”

Caleb snorts as he shoves the helmet over his head. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. I’m only curious.”

“Less curiosity, more adrenaline, please.”

“Trust me, my heart is pounding in my chest at a rate my doctor would consider alarming.”

My smile drops. “Is that bad? Maybe we shouldn’t do this.”

Caleb waves me off with a gloved hand. “Oh, please. I’ve been waiting for this day for years!”

“You have?”

“For sure. Cancer sucks, but at least the Make-A-Wish Foundation makes it worth the journey.”

“I’m sorry, mate. I can tell you’re a good guy who doesn’t deserve this.”

The best ones usually don’t. It’s a lesson I’ve learned time and time again.

“Thanks. But I don’t exactly hate my life because I’m meeting you after all. Cancer can suck my pale arse.”

I shoot him a small smile. “What’s your secret to staying upbeat?”

“Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed so I might as well make today my bitch.”

I can’t help the obnoxious laugh that leaves me. It’s hard not to admire someone like Caleb who doesn’t let his illness define him. I want to learn all his secrets and apply them to my own life. Maybe if I had his kind of courage, I wouldn’t be such an anxious wreck who runs away from the unknown. “I admire people like my mum and you who keep a smile on your face despite everything.”

“Your mum? She has cancer too?” Caleb’s jaw drops open.

Shit. What a fuckup. “No. We better get going.” I point to Caleb’s car in a silent demand to get going.

He ignores me. “Is something wrong with your mum? You know you can trust me because I’d rather go through another round of chemo than reveal any of your secrets.”

“My hesitation isn’t because of trust.”

No. It’s about being judged for not getting tested by someone who has gone through his own medical hell and smiles anyway. I can’t look at Caleb without questioning my own cowardness.

“No, but I want you to know that either way. Is your mum okay, at least?”

I sigh. The way Caleb’s lips purse and his eyes narrow tell me he won’t drop this topic, no matter how much I wish it. “My mum has Huntington’s Disease. It’s not the same as cancer, but it has a terrible prognosis as well.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, mate.” Caleb places his thin hand on my shoulder. “It might not be cancer, but it’s your own hell. All terminal illnesses carry the same weight inside of us.”