“Soph,” Tony said to get my attention. I was barely listening. My full focus was on Logan. The race was almost over and he wasn’t driving so well. Sure, he could drive to the finish line but it wasn’t exactly in as straight a line as I wanted him to go. Something wasn’t right. “Um, Soph?” Again, I wasn’t listening. I did not want to look away. “Sophie!”
“What?!” I practically yelled at Tony. He pointed to his arm and I looked at where he was pointing. Apparently, I was so into the race I had gripped his arm and had begun to cut off his circulation. "Sorry," I released my grip and the red marks from my fingers were still visible. I turned back to the race just in time to watch Logan practically skid across the finish line. Bulldog wasn’t happy, clearly, but I didn’t care. I ran toward Logan who still sat in his car.
He looked awful. Almost as bad as he did when he was in the hospital. He was pale, sweating and he looked weak. I sighed out of relief because over all he was alive; for the most part. “Scoot over, Rocky. I’m driving you home where you are getting straight into bed and getting more rest. Understand?” Logan slowly crawled into the passenger seat, allowing me to take the driver’s side. Before I could drive out, the host of the race ran up to my window and handed me a bunch of cash.
“For the winner. See you next week?” The man asked Logan.
“Maybe,” I answered for him and handed Logan the cash before driving out of there. “Next time you get in an accident, Heaven forbid you ever should again, you are resting until you have your strength back before racing again.” I was not happy. The race was the most stressful race I had ever watched; and I had watched quite a lot of races. Even when Tony had been in a few races and I had never as stressed out as I was watching Logan race in his condition. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed. “I can’t believe I agreed to let you do that.”
