God, Tyler would rather be anywhere but here.

Well, not here. It wasn’t the bar’s fault he had an unpleasant call to make. In this situation, rather—pacing in front of the bar, fingers curled tightly around his phone.

He kicked the curb, then winced as it sent a shockwave through his bad leg, too. Goddamn, he was useless right now.

“Alec won’t let me get back to the track for at least this race. I might miss the next one, too.” Tyler shook his head and hopped out of the way as a taxi driver caught his eye and slowed as if to pick him up. His gaze wandered to the doorway. Since he couldn’t escape this conversation and join his friends yet, he headed for the bench outside instead.

“Right, right. You got banged up pretty bad.” Of course Roger Marcson, the team owner, would already have heard as much. But Ty still had to make the call himself, and deal with the nerves that coursed through him.

“Yep. Hell of a crash. Couldn’t have choreographed it if you’d tried.” Tyler hesitated, not sure if he should mention that he was pretty sure it had been carefully planned.

Roger hummed. “Better not to push it if Alec says so. He’s got a good reputation for not sugarcoating the truth. Want a second opinion?”

“No.” Tyler spoke so fast he surprised himself twice over—at both the speed and content of his response.

What the hell? Of course he should take one. Cars could always be modified. But, in his heart, he trusted Alec’s word—and he knew he wouldn’t last the hours a race required. It wasn’t just the final few laps of jostling for position. It was a long, slow grind. Fighting for your turf, lap after lap after damn lap. No high line ride outs. Definitely no single lines.

Summer was on its way, too. That meant 130º heat on a good day, 150º or more on a bad day, for hours on end. The blowers couldn’t work magic. Racing kept a driver’s mind off the heat, but if his body was already running on empty from the energy it took just to heal bad injuries like his?

He couldn’t argue with Alec.

“No,” Tyler clarified, blowing out a quick sigh. “I’ll hope for the Bristol race. It’s not off the table.”

“Don’t push yourself. I’ve been looking for a chance to try out Rory.”

The mention of their spare driver gave Tyler a moment’s pause. He was doing well, sure, but he couldn’t afford to let Rory knock him off his pedestal. They could yank him from the car, and then… well, getting another chance wasn’t a given.

It was a sensible decision—they had to run the car so they didn’t lose the team points, but missing two races was going to fuck Tyler over as far as individual points. And he’d been doing so well, too.

It felt like a hand squeezing his heart, his chest was so tight. He swallowed hard and jerked his head to himself in a nod. “Yeah. Makes sense. Rory will do fine. He knows Kentucky well enough.”

“Knows Bristol, too.” Roger’s tone was casual but pointed: he was measuring up his team. He didn’t want Tyler to get lazy and assume he had all the time in the world to recover.

Tyler answered to acknowledge that he’d heard Roger’s meaning. “He sure does.” He made sure his voice was relaxed despite the frustration that knotted his guts. “I’ll give you a call next week when I know more.”

“Do that,” Roger agreed. “Take care. Listen to Alec and get back on form for us.”

Tyler would have rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed his chin if the move didn’t make his ribcage protest. As it was, he had to stay sitting up, facing the world, like it or not. “Yes, sir.”

When he hung up, Tyler took a minute to breathe and look around, watching passersby.

It was jarring to be stuck inside and kept from helping around the farm, but that call made him remember why he was doing it: speeding up his recovery by even a day or two meant he could get back to the track ASAP, and that was the most important thing in his life.

Or was it?

He glanced inside, to where his best friends—so close they called each other brothers—were no doubt joking around and chatting as usual. But a guy couldn’t live life on friendship and fumes. More than the money, he needed his career to keep him on track and going somewhere.

Tyler knew himself. Without a purpose, he’d spin out of control. Enough moping. Get your ass inside, he told himself, hauling himself carefully to his feet and heading for the door.

“My round,” he announced as he reached the table where his buddies squeezed together in a rowdy group. Enough of them had boyfriends that their group had outgrown the booths now—they had to drag at least four chairs up to make those work now, when everyone turned up.

“That’s what I like to hear,” Josh approved. He reached out to slap Tyler’s back.

Deen blocked his arm and smacked the back of Josh’s head, which made everyone laugh. He’d been part of Nico’s life for long enough that he was perfectly comfortable in their group now. “Don’t break him even more.”

“Need a hand carrying them back?” Nico offered.

“I’ll help,” Roman said with a wicked smirk that said he was planning something.

Oscar eyed him. “No, you won’t. You stay here, trouble.” He kissed Roman’s cheek and stood up.

Nico, Oscar, and Tyler headed to the bar. The other two guys matched his pace without saying a word.

Tyler ordered a round of beers, then a couple shots of Southern Comfort.

“The call went that well, huh?” Nico looked sympathetic.

“Nothing I wasn’t expecting,” Tyler shrugged, wrapping his hand around one shot glass. He tipped his head back and downed it. Alcoholic heat blazed down his throat, sending a shock through his brain and waking him up in a hurry. “Phew,” he gasped.

“The worst?” Oscar asked. Tyler had gathered he didn’t know much about the sport, so he always tried to keep his explanations simple rather than exclude him.

“Nah.” Tyler’s voice was rough from the whisky burn until he cleared his throat. “They’re running the car with the team’s substitute driver. Smart for them.”

“But risky for you,” Nico said.

“Yep.”

“I’m surprised you’re not sneaking back out there anyway,” Nico told him, lifting a brow and grinning. “That’s your usual trick. Josh figured he’d have to post a watch on your door.”

Tyler grimaced. “If only.”

Nico was solemn for a moment, his gaze sharpening. He probably only realized now how serious it had been. “You’re not having second thoughts about a career change?”

“Hell, no.” Tyler snorted with laughter at how ridiculous the question seemed. He picked up the other shot and flung it into his throat. The burn felt good. Some kind of sensation, after days of being wrapped in wool. He curled his fingers around the edge of the counter and gasped to catch his breath.

“Just checking.” Nico’s hand rested on his shoulder for a moment. “It’s just a temporary setback, then. You’ll heal. You always do.”

“Still pisses me off that Alec’s right.”

“Who?” Oscar frowned.

“The physiotherapist. And he knows what he’s doing. I can’t argue it.”

“You must hate that,” Nico teased with a grin. “I’ve never known you not to argue something if you can help it.”

Tyler flipped him off and handed over cash to the bartender, waving for him to keep the change, then grabbed four beers and headed for the table. Nico took four more, and Oscar the last two.

It was one of those rare days where everyone had made it out: Nico and Deen, Blane and Falcon, Roman and Oscar, and Dustin and Leo, plus Josh and himself.

“How’d it go?” Roman asked as soon as he was settled between him and Josh.

Tyler groaned. “Shitty. I gotta get back before Bristol. If I miss both of these…” he trailed off, staring through his beer bottle.

Roman shoved him lightly. “Hey. You’ll be fine.”

“You never know. You could meet a pretty farmhand,” Deen said with a smirk. “Josh, you do hire the hot ones, right?”

“When I can help it,” Josh said, grinning. “But I doubt we’ll find our boy settling down anytime soon. Not if his weekend was anything to go by.”

“Shut up,” Tyler groaned, shaking a fist at his best friend. It was much less intimidating when he couldn’t even lift it higher than his beer bottle, though.

Josh pretended to be scared anyway. “Help! The big, mean driver is gonna throttle me—haha, get it?”

“God,” Tyler groaned. “Another week or two living with this font of shitty puns? Shoot me now.”

“Hey. Only good things flow from me. If you know what I mean.”

Tyler laughed despite himself, his hand pressing his rib automatically now. “Gross, dude. Besides,” he said, looking back at Deen, “I’m not staying in town.”

“Didn’t stop me and Nico,” Deen said, chuckling as he glanced sideways at his park ranger boyfriend.

Not a perfect example, Tyler thought. The bi rock star of their group had been on a break from touring when they’d met. He was back at it now, but he wasn’t constantly on the road anymore. Hell, Nico had switched from full-time park ranger to another department so he could move out of the Smoky Mountains and live together with Deen in Knoxville.

Tyler, meanwhile, couldn’t escape racing season or rearrange his career like they could. He just shook his head. “Besides, how do you know you’ve met the one? Everyone says oh, you just know.” He gestured with the neck of his bottle between all the couples sitting around the table. “I haven’t had that you just know feeling before. I doubt I’ll start now.”

The rest of them shared secretive smiles—standard oh, wait until he feels it shit. It might have pissed Tyler off if he cared about relationships at all.

“Watch out what you say. It’s never when the timing is right.” That was the newest member of their group, Leo, who had met Dustin at work. The two of them had sure as hell paid for the workplace relationship.

And they didn’t even have a code of conduct in the way, or closets, or any of that shit. Every time Tyler wrote Alec off as a candidate for something longer-term, it seemed more sensible.

Didn’t seem to stop Alec popping up in his head before anyone else, though. Weird. They’d barely known each other for a week now.

I’m gonna eat my hat if it is him. “Right, right,” Tyler groaned and rolled his eyes to cover up his momentary worry, and the thrill of excitement that coursed through him at the very same moment.

Alec interested him. Something about him made Tyler want to get to know him more, even if Alec was trying to keep him at arms-length.

He was smart, funny, knowledgeable as hell about something Tyler only knew a little about. Caring, obviously. Took no bullshit. A straight talker—not the kind of guy who’d lie to protect Tyler’s feelings.

Goddamn, he was appealing, but for all Tyler knew, he had no interest in anything longer-term. He’d pretty clearly told Tyler that there would be no more fucking around while they were in a doctor-patient relationship.

“Something you wanna tell us?” Josh prompted, pretending to elbow Tyler just to get him to flinch.

“Asshole,” Tyler groaned. “I wish.”

He felt guilty for just a moment at evading the question. After all, he could tell these guys anything. They wouldn’t interfere or push him.

But Alec’s job… it clearly scared him shitless to have anyone else know about their indiscretion. It could put his job at risk if the wrong person overheard. Tyler couldn’t break that trust, even if these were the guys he trusted most in the world.

And it was way too early to call their relationship anything. Not until he’d healed, and he found out if Alec wanted to try anything longer-term, and he was thinking clearly himself. Maybe this was all an outlet for his frustration at not being able to do anything useful in his life.

Rushing things wouldn’t work. Slow and steady won the race. Well, maybe not slow… fast and steady.

Reliable. That’s what he had to be—reliable. And reliable meant not breaking Alec’s trust, even if Alec never found out that he’d done it. Which meant keeping them t himself for a bit longer.

Tyler was going to be so damn reliable it blew Alec away.