Into the Churn

by Hayley Reese Chow

“No, Ezren. It’s not worth it. I’m not going to put our lives at risk for some stupid pissing contest.” “Some stupid pissing contest?” Ezren’s voice rose. “This is the future of Belethea we’re talking, Foster.

She took a step back, and his face softened. “Face it, Ez. It’s just not in the cards for us.” “Then why even come this far?” she asked, hating the way her voice shook.

A solid, almost pleasant warmth stirred in Foster’s chest, and he quickly stomped it out as he wrenched the gate open.

But even as he looked at the metal armory door, his vision blurred, his hand twitching painfully at his side. He couldn’t—not without some sleep first.

He eagerly turned around, the apology already on his lips. Maybe they could—

A friend? In the city? It didn’t take Foster five seconds to figure out who that could be. Davis Banda. Acid jealousy burned in his stomach, and he turned on his heel, starting toward the stairs again.

If he was going to figure this out before the next race, he needed help. And Ezren had told him exactly where to get it.

A strange mix of unease and smugness coursed through Foster. At least she liked him better than Davis.

Still, a small hateful part of him imagined her crying on Davis’s shoulder, and he crushed it out.

Because if someone was responsible for hurting his team, he would make sure everyone and their grandmother knew about it. And then he would destroy them.

“But it’s not enough.” “All we can do is our best, my love. I know these steps may seem little when you expect so much of yourself, but great change is built from many little changes.” She squeezed her hands. “And building things takes time.”

Like he grew up five years while I was gone or something. I must’ve known they’d be fine on their own, or else I wouldn’t have left. Still, I always worked so hard to keep everything together, so it’s weird to see it kept running on just the same without me.”

Sterling Hart—bring Belethea home.

“Every step forward is a win, no matter how small.” Davis cocked his head as though thinking. “Isn’t that what your mom says?”

She shrugged. “He says it’s too dangerous.” “Ah.” Davis’s face suddenly smoothed into a knowing smile.

“He’s trying to protect you, Ez,” Davis said, his voice soft in the quiet.

“You have a voice now, Ezren, and people are listening. Keep screaming into the void, and eventually, the void will answer.”

“I know you’re upset with Foster for quitting on you, but his decision will probably turn him into the most-hated person on Belethea.” He glanced at her. “And he did it to protect you.”

Ezren stood, speechless for a moment, feeling like she had both lost and found something at the very same time. Foster’s lazy smile flashed through her mind, sending an ache through her chest. Yes, of all the places in the ’verse she could be, she was in the wrong one.

“Foster Sterling here to see Bex Gunderson and Simon Grady, right?” “That’s right.” “They’ve been asking for you.”

“Good afternoon, you two, we’ve got a visitor to see you.” “About chaffin’ time!” Grady’s loud voice echoed from the room.

For a moment, Foster just stood there. Feeling it with him. The rage. The helplessness. The guilt. He should’ve seen it sooner. “I’m sorry.”

He met Foster’s gaze, eyes glistening. “I’m fodding pissed as chaff. But not at you.”

“C’mon, kin,” Grady scoffed with a grim smile. “We all know you’re not going to let Ezren go it alone.

“You better.” Grady winked at him. “Cuz next year, you’ll have to deal with Grady/Guns fair and square.” And for the first time since the qualifier, Foster smiled. “You’re on, Grady.”

Finally, there were the Beletheans, if only a sprinkling. They wore their boots, buckles, and top hats, temporary inked designs scrawling along the skin around their eyes in lieu of the goggs perched atop their heads. Combined with the dark three-piece suits, long coats, and ruffled dresses preferred by their largely subterranean society, they seemed less glamorous than the others.

Ezren ran her fingerless gloves nervously along the silk ruffles of her dress. The corset threatened to suffocate her and yet her chest still felt oddly exposed by the off-the-shoulder sleeves.

“I think you underestimate how far you’ve come. You went from being the interloper to being Belethea’s favorite underdog.”

Ezren raised her chin, her hands tightening. “It may be wild, but it’s more beautiful for it.”

“Be safe out there, Ezren Hart. May the winds be at your back, and we’ll hope to see you again next year.”

“You would do well to worry about your own team, as I do believe Syndali only qualified one pair this year as well.” Ezren turned to see Greta Sterling at her side.

“Yes, she does.” Foster stepped from the crowd to Ezren’s side, lacing his hand in hers. His touch nearly lit Ezren on fire, heating her from her fingertips to her toes—the relief dizzying and wondrous. He’d come for her. Her heart swelled, and she drank in the sight of him.

He wore a long black coat over a vest and tie, and his hair had been styled for once, sweeping away from his forehead. A black swirling design crawled around his green-gray eyes, making them practically pop from his beige skin. Confidence radiated from his broad shoulders and firm grip, and Ezren wanted nothing more than to fall into his arms.

Every hovercam in the place recorded their every word, waiting for her answer. Her voice. And for once, she didn’t cringe away, didn’t shrink beneath their red eyes. This was their moment—Belethea’s moment—and somehow, Foster had made it happen.

“Belethea is my home, and Foster Sterling is my double. I could never race with anyone else, or for any other team. This planet and the people on it are part of who I am. We work hard, and we dream big, because the dream of Belethea, of living under an open sky, is worth every drop of blood and sweat, every tear that waters our soil. We may not be the richest team or the most advanced planet, and we may still have a terraforming journey ahead of us, but I’d rather build those things together with them, than go anywhere else.”

“Tomorrow we will race, drive, and fight to the heart of Belethea. But it’s a big heart, and one worth fighting for.” She shared a glance with Foster, pride and heat and purpose blazing between them. “We believe in Belethea, and we’re racing to win.”

Foster turned to Ezren, leaning close to her ear. “Unfortunately, the dance floor is the only place to get some space. So if you’d do me the honor.” He held out a hand and Ezren took it, nervous butterflies colliding in her stomach. With one hand on her waist, he took her through the steps of the simplest dance she’d learned in their PR classes while the orchestra swelled into a weave of strings and air.

“I’m sorry I’m late.” He pressed his cheek to hers, his lips close to her ear. “And I’m sorry for what I said last time.”

She pulled back to take him in again, looking impossibly handsome with his three-piece perfectly fitted to his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Catching herself staring, she looked away with a blush that heated her from the inside out.

“When I realized I couldn’t stop you from going on your own, I also realized I needed to be there to protect you from what someone once told me was an idiotic, suicidal race.”

And people who are in love protect each other with everything they have. They fight for each other, holding on no matter what.”

“I’ll fight the whole ’verse before I let go,” she breathed, wrapping her arms around him. “I love you too much, Foster Yunin-Sterling. I think it might shatter me.”

“Then I’ll just have to hold you together.” With that, he bowed his head and kissed her slow and deep.

And even though a hundred hovercams flashed all around them, Ezren knew this kiss wa...

Everything else fell away as Foster savored the sensation of Ezren in his arms. His cheek against her hair, he breathed in the fresh scent of lemon and sage. Taller in her heeled boots, she leaned into his chest, her warm breath tickling his neck. He wished he could pull her gloves off and feel her smooth palms against his. Still, with his hand on the curve of her waist, his worries dissolved with the heady reassurance that he’d made the right choice.

He moved her slowly through the song, and when she drew back to look at him, he couldn’t resist closing the distance between their lips. Meeting her soft mouth with his. They said nothing, but they didn’t need to. They were in sync again, two people moving as one.

They were the best chance for Belethea in the BRR’s history. How was that even possible? But even as he thought it, he knew. It was because of Ezren. Because she’d thrown her whole self into the race without hesitation. Because she believed in it without a flicker of doubt.

Even if he didn’t believe in the BRR, he believed in Ezren. And for her, he would leave it all in the dirt.

He opened his blanket wide, and she slipped in beside him, curling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around her. Though her skin was cool to the touch, he let her tuck in closer, sharing his heat, her head nestling into his chest and her hands wrapped around his waist.

She clung to him so closely, he imagined their hearts beating against one another, their rhythms syncing together into one song. The steady warmth of her relaxed him, luring him to the edge of sleep.