All The Way. Beverly Bird

jarring impact.

      When he came to, he smelled gasoline and heard the deadly snap of fire.

      Liv screamed.

      The sound tore from her throat, raw and unwilling, as she shot up from the sofa in her private sitting room where she’d been watching the practice session. On the television, Hunter’s gold car with the number 4 emblazoned down the sides in black flames was smashed against the outside wall of the race track. Its hood was flattened, its rear end was destroyed, and real flames were licking out from behind the left rear wheel.

      As she swallowed hard against another reflexive sound, a truck rolled up and suited men jumped out of the bed, armed with fire extinguishers.

      Then the net came down from the driver’s side window, and she saw Hunter’s hand shoot out, giving a thumbs-up sign that he was okay. The TV announcer lamented that he’d qualified for the pole position in tomorrow’s race and now his car was more or less demolished. He’d have a back-up available, but changing cars now would put him at the back of the starting line.

      “Oh, you stupid, insane fool!” Liv choked. “When is it enough for you? When? How damned far do you have to take it?” Her heart was rioting.

      A fist thumped against her door. Kiki’s voice shouted through the wood. “Are you all right? I heard you scream.”

      Liv went to open it. Kiki shot into the room, looking around both skeptically and a little wildly. Liv nodded wordlessly at the TV.

      Kiki’s black eyes took in the scene there as Hunter levered himself out through the driver’s window. The stock cars had no doors. The seams and hardware would create drag. “So Michigan doesn’t agree with him,” Kiki muttered.

      Then Vicky hurtled into the room.

      Her knees were scraped and reddened as they usually were, and her long, black ponytail was falling loose from some hard play. “What’s going on? Somebody said you were all up here.” Then she, too, focused on the television screen. “Hey, isn’t that the guy we saw in the restaurant last weekend?”

      Kiki was closest to her. She caught Vicky’s arm and turned her smoothly away from the TV. “What guy?”

      “Mom knows who I mean. Some famous guy.” Vicky craned her neck around as Kiki steered her toward the door. “It is him. He said he drives cars real fast. He’s hurt.”

      Kiki dropped Vicky’s elbow to turn back to the TV herself. Liv pushed between them to see. On the screen, Hunter bent over at the waist, in obvious pain. He did it slowly, as though the earth had suddenly produced an exorbitant amount of gravity and was tugging him down even as he fought it tooth and nail.

      Liv felt light-headed. The announcers’ voices sounded anxious.

      “Sit down,” Kiki said to her harshly. “You’re white as a ghost.”

      “I’m fine. Vicky, go…do something.”

      Kiki started angling the girl toward the door again. “Come on. I just made a new recipe for cranberry muffins. I need you to tell me what you think.”

      “But I want to see what happens to this guy,” Vicky argued.

      “We can watch on the television downstairs in the kitchen.”

      Liv knew that Kiki would never allow the TV to go on downstairs until long after this coverage was over. She offered no resistance when the two went out, Kiki closing the door again smartly behind her.

      Liv went back to the sofa and sat, fumbling blindly behind her with one hand to make sure the furniture was still there. Then she reached for the remote control and hit up the volume. She’d once seen his car do somersaults down the backstretch, nose to tail, nose to tail, and he’d walked away as steady as a rock. He would be fine.

      “They don’t seem to be heading for the infield care center,” one of the announcers said as an ambulance loaded Hunter and drove off. “Looks like they’ll be taking him directly to a hospital.”

      “What does this do to his chances tomorrow, Hal?”

      “I’d say they’re minimal at this point, Bud.”

      He’d driven once with a broken wrist, Liv remembered, taping it for extra support, his jaw set visibly against the pain every time the camera caught him. He’d be in that race tomorrow.

      There was another knock on her door. Kiki entered with a tray holding a decanter of brandy and two snifters.

      “Where’s Vicky?” Liv asked, startled.

      “I gave her two of the muffins and sent her out to harass Bourne.”

      The retired cowboy ran their riding operation. “He’ll take the muffins and send her right back again if he’s busy.”

      “Not if he wants to see another of my muffins in this lifetime.”

      Liv almost smiled.

      “Here. You need this.” Kiki poured the snifters and handed her one, then she gestured at the television with her own. “So what’s the latest? Did he live?”

      “They took him to the hospital.”

      Kiki nodded. “He’s too mean to die.”

      Liv jerked up from her slouch against the cushions. “He’s not mean. He’s just…” She trailed off at Kiki’s expression. “What? Why are you looking at me that way?”

      Kiki settled on the sofa beside her. “You’ve got to get over this. You were fine before you made that trip back east.”

      Liv took a good swallow of brandy without answering. It burned going down.

      “You’re the strongest woman I know.”

      Liv jolted a little. “Me? Get off it.”

      “I just don’t tell you very often because I hate being overshadowed by you.”

      Liv could only laugh at that, though her voice was hoarse. Kiki was beautiful—tiny, barely five foot tall—with classic Native American looks. She was a dynamo. Liv generally felt pale, clumsy and befuddled beside her. They’d been friends since even before Hunter had entered the picture, from the first moment Liv had set foot on the Navajo reservation.

      Kiki got up to move. Like Hunter, she was always moving.

      “You made your decision when you cut him loose,” she said. “You never looked back—at least not that any of us could tell. You married Johnny and when that didn’t work out, we left Flag and came here to Jerome. We established the inn from a ram-shackle building that nobody else wanted but that you saw the potential in. You’ve built a life for your daughter. She’s happy, healthy, smart.”

      “She lives with a bunch of strangers trooping through her home several times a week.”

      “That’s your phobia, not hers. Don’t foist it off on her, Liv.”

      Liv winced.

      “You’re the one who was always hung up on the traditional nuclear-home thing. You were the one intent on grabbing back everything you lost when your family’s car went over that cliff and you were sent to the Res. So what if Vicky has a mother, a doting aunt and a lot of guests from all over the country instead of a mother, a father and a sibling or two? What does it matter if she’s thriving?”

      Liv found that she couldn’t answer.

      “My point is, you’ve got a lot to be proud of. So be proud of it. Don’t let Hunter Hawk-Cole rock your foundations again just because you made one mistake.”

      “Which mistake are we speaking of here?” Liv asked dryly.

      “Dover.”

      “Ah, that one. And it was Millsboro.”

      Kiki waved her hand, telling her what she thought of that particular split hair. “Don’t