Hot Driver - S01 E74

Story 23 hours ago

Hot Driver - S01 E74

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 74

Golden High – Library

Luis sat alone at a corner table during free period, textbook open in front of him though his eyes had long since glazed over the same paragraph three separate times.

“Hey,” Hazel said, sliding into the seat across from him.

“H-hey.” His voice cracked slightly, and he cleared his throat, feeling suddenly, painfully awkward.

She leaned forward across the table, propping her chin on her hand. “Why are you being weird?”
“I’m not being weird.”

“You’re being weird. You’re too cute to be shy, you know.”

He laughed despite himself, some of the tension easing out of his shoulders.

Their eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, toward each other’s mouths, and the space between them closed slowly, naturally, until their lips met in a warm, unhurried kiss.

“AHEM.”

They broke apart instantly. Jason stood at the end of the table, arms crossed, Eloise peeking out from behind him with an enormous grin.

“Library rules,” Jason said solemnly. “No PDA. Come on, Romeo, let’s go.”

He grabbed Luis by the collar, physically dragging him from his seat, and Luis craned his neck back the entire way toward the door, still looking at Hazel.

“Stop LOOKING at her,” Jason said, exasperated, shoving him forward.

Luis nearly took a swing at him. Jason just laughed, dodging easily, and steered him firmly out into the hallway.

Ivy Fashion Empire – Morning

Duane and Ivory walked through the lobby together, and the staff braced themselves instinctively, the way they always did, for whatever sharp criticism might come their way this morning.

Instead, Ivory smiled — actually smiled — at the receptionist. “Your presentation yesterday was excellent,” she said warmly. “Well done.”

The receptionist blinked, stunned into silence.

Ivory continued through the lobby, offering genuine praise to two more startled employees along the way, her whole demeanor lighter, warmer, entirely unlike the woman who used to reduce staff to tears before her morning coffee.

At the elevator, she turned and pecked Duane lightly on the lips before stepping inside.

The lobby went dead silent.

Every mouth in the room hung open, every eye wide with disbelief, watching the elevator doors slide shut on the single strangest, most wonderful morning any of them had witnessed in months.

Hope Orphanage – Same Morning

“Wait.” The director’s voice cut sharp through the exhausted silence, and both Hales sat up straight, hope flaring instantly. “I think I found it.”

She pulled a thin, yellowed folder free from the very back of an old cabinet, blowing dust from its cover before opening it carefully
.
“A boy,” she read slowly, scanning the faded ink. “Brought in twenty-eight years ago. No surname listed for the birth mother. Just a first name — Alice.”

Mrs. Hale’s hand flew to her mouth.

“Who adopted him?” Mr. Hale demanded, leaning forward.

The director flipped further into the file, scanning several more pages, and it took nearly an hour more of searching through cross-referenced adoption records before she finally found the second document, tucked into an entirely different drawer.

“Here,” she said finally, holding it out. “The adopting family. The Brooke family.”

Mr. Hale snatched the paper, scanning it rapidly. Celeste Brooke?

“Celeste Brooke,” he read aloud, voice shaking. “That’s — that name was in the news just yesterday. The restaurant.”

Mrs. Hale was already on her feet, pulling up the story on her phone with trembling hands, the headline confirming it instantly.

Este’s Restaurant Cleared: Owner Celeste Brooke Free to Reopen.

“That’s her,” Mrs. Hale breathed, tears spilling down her face — this time, finally, tears of hope rather than grief. “That has to be her.”

They thanked the exhausted director hurriedly and rushed for the door, documents clutched tight in Mr. Hale’s hand, already dialing for the car to be brought around.

“Take us to Este’s Restaurant,” Mr. Hale said the moment they were inside, voice tight with an urgency neither of them could contain any longer. “Now.”

TBC…