RIVALS | MxM MPreg

Chapter 3

Three Months Later:

Landon slumped onto the couch like he had a ton hanging over his shoulder. His eyes were glued to his phone as he watched the latest report on Sports News regarding his potential failure in the upcoming qualification race he was scheduled to take part in an hour from now. The bloody race hadn't started yet and they were already declaring his loss. He let loose a defeated sigh before tossing the phone beside him, welcoming unshed tears to cloud his vision as he recollected earlier events that led to this.

He couldn't believe it—he knew it would happen, he just couldn't believe it. He blamed Jackson; that showoff, cocky rookie who needed someone to teach him a lesson in manners!

It had been three months with five races in total, and Jackson somehow managed to win em' all. Landon couldn't wrap his head around it; he had done everything. He trained harder—spent hours on the practice track every day for the past month, he got his car modified, he finally went to get glasses and contacts for his terrible eyesight with hopes it might help with his miscalculations, only to realize it was a memory problem and not no damn eye problem. Damnit, nothing was working! Jackson was destroying him on the tracks like a hot knife on butter.

Landon despised him and he never despised anybody.

Something had also changed about the rookie ever since the after-party. He seemed to drop the nice-guy act, and would sometimes outright taunt Landon after the races whenever they came in contact—especially whenever Landon's friends were nearby. He was always stony and mean in his approach—not like how he was weird, though eager on the first day they met. It was like he had a personal vendetta for Landon. It was quite baffling considering Jackson had told him that he was Jackson's biggest inspiration. He didn't understand the kid, and quite frankly, he didn't care to.

Apart from the rookie's angry side glances, Landon had other issues he needed to address. For one, Brandon wasn't too pleased with his recent losing streak. Although the man still said nothing, Landon knew that if he messed up today's race, he was in deep waters with his sponsor. He needed to win, and he needed to win today.

"You okay there, buddy?"

Wade's sudden appearance caused Landon's heart to spike before he looked over his shoulder where his best friend stood by the door with a worrisome expression. Landon couldn't blame him, the room stunk of a distressed Alpha. The veteran sighed as he melted back into his couch. He hadn't been feeling himself lately, and Wade knew—hell, everyone knew. He was an open book around his friends, and they were worried about him, about how his racing career was taking a toll on his mental health.

"I don't know, Wade," he said when Wade sat beside him before placing a hand on his shoulder. Landon anointed his temples, wanting to rid the approaching tension as he dumped his consuming emotions onto Wade; "I think I'm losing it."

"What do you mean?"

He meant he was becoming a failure, a joke. His years were numbered in the racing industry, and he didn't know how to feel about it. At least he wouldn't retire like his friends who had long let the tracks settle down. He wasn't them—he wasn't a quitter; racing was his life. If he couldn't race, he might as well be dead.

"You see what's happening these last few months out there—I ain't getting any better."

"Is this because of that Jackson fella?" When Landon nodded, Wade sighed and leaned against the couch with his arms spread wide. "Listen, Lan... I've known you for ten years, you ain't a quitter. I know times can be tough, but you always come through. Remember that time you had a setback couple years ago?" Landon nodded again. Wade was yapping about five years ago when new racers came into the game. He had a setback then too—but nuttin' like this, and none of those racers was rookie; just those European fellas who switched circuits. "You managed to get back then, buddy."