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Waited, tapping his foot, forcing his mind to go blank. Blank as the hum of the starting line, the whoosh of his own breath, inhaling, exhaling. Forced the world to narrow until all he could see was the rectangle of the world through his helmet and the bars of his face guard. He was back in his truck, pointed west on the highway, when the tears started to fall.
The Jock (The Team, #1)
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