My life is nothing like what I thought it’d be, and it’s heading in a different direction than I ever would’ve plotted, but I feel like I’m getting where I’m supposed to be despite the fuck-ups along the way.
My phone rings beside me, rattling on the tailgate. I glance down, but it’s an unknown number so I decline the call, sending it to voicemail. The home screen shows a picture of Erica leaning up against Foxy, her black boots and bare legs the first thing to grab my eye, but then it’s the pissed off look of ‘take the picture already’ that really does me in. Damn, that woman.
The phone rings with the same number, interrupting my view of Erica and irritating me. Damn sales calls, probably a robot dialer. I decline it again.
When it rings immediately, I decide to fuck with the sales guy a little. “What?” I bark into the phone, sounding more pit bull than man.
“Brody?” a soft voice says.
“Who’s this?” I say, sitting up straight. I know the voice, but it’s muffled like they’re not really talking into the phone.
“It’s Emily. Brody . . .” She sniffles and my gut turns to stone. Something’s wrong, I can feel it in my bones. “It’s Rix . . . the races . . . there was a fire.”
My first instinct is always to fight, so I stand like there’s an imminent threat, as if there’s something I can do right here, right now, from hundreds of miles away. “Is she okay?”
“We don’t know. Ed called Dad, said it got her legs, but they won’t let us see her. I thought . . .” A sniffle and a sob this time. “I thought you’d want to know.”
“I’m on my way. Text me the hospital address.” She makes a sound of agreement, and I can hear her dissolve into tears, but I can’t comfort her right now. I have to get to Erica.
I bang on the motel door, three hard raps, and the two short seconds it takes Mark to answer are two seconds too long. “Fuck, man.” Mark’s confused irritation at my aggressiveness with the door changes instantly when he sees my face. “What’s wrong?”
“I need the truck keys.” I don’t wait for him to give them to me, grabbing them off the dresser myself. That’s all I need, keys in my hand and my wallet in my back pocket.
Mark blocks my way at the door. “What’s wrong?”
“Erica. There was a fire at the races. She’s at the hospital. That’s all I know. I gotta go.” He shows no emotion, but he’s gritting his teeth like they did something wrong. I push past him, throwing over my shoulder, “Sorry.”
I hear Katelyn answer, so he must’ve still been on the phone with her when I barged in. “We’re on it, Brody!”
* * *
I don’t remember the drive. I got in the truck, and a moment later, I’m pulling into the hospital lot and parking like one of those assholes who thinks the lines don’t apply to them.
I don’t need to glance at my phone to know where to go. Emily’s text is burned into my mind.
Burned.
Fuck.
The doors open automatically as I stomp my way toward them, and the smell of antiseptic hits me full-force.
In the back corner, what looks to be the entirety of the racing community is pacing around like there’s a track on the floor that only they can see, I see Ed, Jerry, Mike, and Clint, along with a few other familiar faces.
The crowd parts, and I see her . . . flip flops and shorts, long, dark hair down her back. For a brief moment, I think it’s all a mistake. Some misunderstanding or trick. And then she turns.
Emily.
I can tell them apart easily, but my heart had hoped for a moment that Erica was okay. Fuck, let her be okay.
“Brody.” Emily’s cry is accented by the thwack-thwack of her flip-flops as she runs to me. “You’re here.” She hugs me solidly, her tears starting fresh though the dried tracks down her face say this isn’t her first or second time to break down.
“What do we know?” My throat is tight, the words clipped.
“Nothing. Dan came in to help since it’s Rix and said he’d let us know.” I pat her back, looking at the doors leading into the treatment area. I want to get through them, need to get through them to Erica.
“Who are you?” a deep voice asks.
Emily jerks and pulls back, clearing her throat. “Uh . . . Dad, this is Brody. Brody, this is Keith.”
He’s sizing me up, and I know there’s no way I measure up. Even on my best days, I’m a dirty, rough cowboy who smells like cow shit. Today, I’ve been sweating my balls off in a barn with cowboys who smoke like chimneys, cows that shit where they please, and I think I spilled some of my beer on my shirt when Emily first called. Keith Cole is a little over six feet tall, but beneath his Carhartt T-shirt and pants, he’s lean muscle. His hair is dirty blond shot through with gray at the temples, and he’s got a matching blond-gray goatee and mustache. His eyes are bright blue and laser-locked on me. I can see the resemblance with Erica in those eyes—not the color, of course, but in that fiery spark. He might not be her nature, but he’s her nurture through and through.
I hold my hand out. “Brody Tannen.”
He shakes my hand, squeezing a little too hard. “Keith Cole. And again, who are you?”
“So good of you to come,” Janice interrupts, also making a move to hug me.
“You know him?” Keith asks Janice, who shrugs and doesn’t look the least bit sorry.
“We met at the farmer’s market.”
That seems like a lifetime ago, even though only a couple of months have passed.
Jerry comes over, offering me a hand and interrupting the third-degree interrogation Keith is ready to launch. “Hey, Brody. Our girl’s gonna be just fine, you hear? She’s a tough one, that Rix.”
Keith’s back goes ramrod straight, and I try to imagine what he’s going through right now. I knew Erica was racing, knew that there were inherent dangers, but I trusted that she would do everything to mitigate those. But sometimes, shit still happens.
Sometimes, the good ones, the ones who deserve to stay around the longest, leave too soon, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.
Keith didn’t know Erica’s been racing. He got side-swiped with a double-whammy tonight—that his daughter’s been hiding something from him and that she got hurt doing it. And then I here come, strutting in like I belong here, and he’s never even heard my name.
“What happened?” I ask Jerry.
He tells me about Todd’s nitro going wrong and fire shooting out from under the hood. He tells me about Erica pulling Todd out of the car, and I shake my head at her brave stupidity. It’s not that I want to hold her back, but I can’t help but think she wouldn’t be hurt if she’d let someone else do the dangerous part. But that’s not who she is. And then he tells me about one last explosion and how Todd shoved Erica to the ground and took the brunt of the flames himself.
The whole racing crew plus Erica’s family listens in, though I suspect this is a repeat of what they’ve already heard.
“Good guy,” I say about Todd, which doesn’t begin to describe how thankful I am for his sacrifice to save Erica from anything worse. Jerry is stone-faced but nods, agreeing. “He okay?”
“Don’t know anything yet, about either of them. Emily’s doctor friend . . .” He trails off, looking toward the door like I did.
As if he conjured it, the doors open and the first thing I see is Dan smiling. He’s pushing a wheelchair . . .
Erica!
“Erica!” I shout as my mouth catches up with my brain. My strides eat the space between us.
She looks like . . . everything. She looks like . . . home. And also, a bit pale and dirty. Her legs are sticking out of scrub pants that have been chopped at the knee, leaving a frayed hem. Her calves and bare feet are wrapped in white gauze.
“Brody, what are you doing here?” she says, and my heart stutters. She doesn’t want me here? But then her eyes flick behind me to Keith, and I realize her hesitation isn’t about me.
“We met. He’s got questions.
Later.”
Her arms open, and I hunch over to hug her. “Scared the shit outta me, Lil Bit,” I whisper in her ear.
She smiles big and bold, putting on a front for her audience. “Just another day of racing.”
I see her throat swallow as she looks to Keith. “Dad?”
Janice and Emily are bookending Keith, who’s breathing heavily and turning red. I think seeing that Erica is okay has relieved his initial fears, freeing him up to be angry at the situation he’s been thrust into.
“What the hell is going on? Do I even know you at all, Rix?” Hurt and betrayal thread through the words painfully.
“Of course you do,” Erica says, but she doesn’t sound certain. “I’m a racer, just like you taught me to be.” Better, stronger, and with pride.
Janice jumps in. “What did the doctor say?”
Erica looks to Dan. “Dr. Dan here says I have to keep the burns clean and dressed, and he gave me an antibiotic ointment prescription. I’m on concussion watch, but they don’t think anything’s wrong with my brain that wasn’t already a little bit wrong to begin with.”
Jokes? The woman’s got jokes after something like this? But I see the fear flashing in her eyes. More bricks, more walls, more façade. I don’t know why everyone thinks she’s this wild, devil-may-care creature. On the surface, maybe that’s true. But the truth is, she does everything for everyone else. Even now, comforting them with humor when we should be comforting her.
“It’s all on my discharge paperwork.” She points at the stack of papers tucked beside her in the wheelchair.
“It’s a little more complicated than that, but Rix has assured me that she’ll be a compliant patient. Right?” Dan prompts, and Erica nods, only a little sarcastically.
“Well, let’s get you home then. I’ll set up your old bed so that you’re comfortable,” Janice says, already mentally making plans to have Erica recover under her motherly care.
“Mom, I want to go home. To my home.”
Janice balks and Keith steps in. “Rix, don’t be silly. We’ll go home, and you can heal while you tell me what the hell’s been going on.” Keith eyes me again, still not having an answer he’s satisfied with. Though I think the greeting and hug between Erica and me made things pretty clear.
Erica looks at me, a question in her eyes. I blink, answering her easily. Seeing her, touching her, soothes something deep inside, and I’m not ready to drop her off at her parents’ and go to the farm alone. I thought I’d failed again when I got that call, that she’d left me too. And I feel like I’m getting a second chance, one I won’t fuck up.
She turns back to her parents. “I’m going home. Brody can take care of me and you can come over in the morning so we can talk everything through.” The no-nonsense, take-no-shit version of Erica is back in full force, leaving no room for compromise.
“Brody is going to take you home?” Keith parrots. “Who is he?” Blunt and straightforward, just like his daughter. “And where the hell is Reed?”
“I’m her boyfriend,” I answer. It’s the closest word I’ve got to describe this thing between Erica and me, even though it feels woefully inadequate.
“Boyfriend.” Not a question, but Keith shakes his head in denial.
Erica’s eyes plead with him. “I want to talk to you about everything, if you’ll listen.”
Janice steps up to Keith’s side, laying a hand on his arm and providing a calming voice of reason. “That’s fine, honey. Brody, if you two need anything at all, you call me right away. Otherwise, we’ll call in the morning to see how you’re feeling before we come over.”
Keith wants to argue, but he stays quiet and stone-faced.
Ed steps forward, addressing Dan. “What about Todd?” I don’t miss the frosty look Keith gives Ed. I figured they’d be friends, but there is no love lost between the two right now, that’s for sure.
Dan looks over his shoulder. “Family only for updates, I’m afraid.” But he winks and gives a thumbs-up, and you can feel the relief work through the crowd. “His family should be here any minute.”
Ed holds up a fist and Erica pounds it. “Damn near scared the speed demon outta me, girl. You’d best get home, and we’ll hold court for Todd until his family gets here.”
“Thanks, Ed. See you Wednesday?” she says, and the answering silence is deafening. “Too soon?” she says, laughing. But the laugh turns into a cough.
Janice holds out a bottle of water and Erica takes it gratefully. I nod my appreciation her way too.
“Let me pull the truck up and we’ll get you loaded up.” I almost hate to leave her alone with them, sure they’ll get her to change her mind about going home with me. And then I crack the smallest sliver of a smile. Someone change Erica’s mind? I’m not sure that’s even humanly possible.
I pull up to the exit door where Erica, Emily, Dan, Janice, and Keith are waiting. Surprisingly, none of them, not even Erica herself, stops me from picking Erica up and placing her in the passenger seat. I buckle her in and close the door as she calls out to them, “Call me in the morning?”
Janice nods, then makes pointed eye contact with me as she puts her hand on my shoulder. With a weighted breath, she tells me, “That’s my baby.”
“Understood.” Erica is important to her, and with one word, I let her know that I will respect that and do my best to take care of Erica the way she would. It’s a vow, a promise, and I’m a man of my word, so I take that shit seriously.
I offer my hand to Keith, who shakes it too tightly again, but I can forgive that under the circumstances. Honestly, I’m surprised he hasn’t punched me. My Dad would’ve if some strange, dirty, rough guy had shown up for Shayanne. “This isn’t over.”
“Wish we’d met under better circumstances. I’ve heard a lot of good things about you.” He doesn’t soften in the slightest at the sweet nothings I’m saying.
Emily hugs me. “Do you want me to come sleep on the couch and help? I don’t know if I can not be with her when she’s hurt. Oh, God, how come I didn’t feel it when it happened?” She’s getting hysterical.
I whisper, hoping Erica can’t read lips. It’d be just like her to forget to tell me she can do that and use the skill for maximum impact at the right time. “If you come over, you know she’ll put on a front.” Emily nods, her eyes glassy with tears again. “Tomorrow. I have her for now.”
I circle the truck, getting in the driver’s side, and Erica waves at her family. We pull off, and as soon as we’re out of the lot, she sags in her seat.
“Letting you know now . . . that took everything I’ve got out of me. I’m fucking toast . . . get it?” I lift a wry brow her way. “Still too soon?”
“Too soon,” I agree dryly.
She sighs. “No racing jokes, but I need to crash and sleep for a few weeks. Can you or can you not make that happen?”
She’s still got some walls up, but they’re crumbling fast. Exhaustion laces her voice, and her eyelids are getting heavy.
“I can make that happen.”
Sleep for weeks? No, because her parents are coming with some hard questions in a few hours, but I can make it seem like weeks if that’s what she needs. I’ll get her in bed, comfy and cozy, give her some tea with her pain meds, and make her pancakes in the morning.
I’ve got experience taking care of people, maybe not from injury, but from illness. Mom’s cancer, Dad’s broken heart. And one thing I know for sure . . . my mom’s pancakes can heal whatever ails you.
Chapter 26
Erica
I direct Brody to pull into bay one when we get to the garage. It looks empty in here with Foxy still parked at the track. I’ll have to get her tomorrow.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
I can’t even drive her home with my legs like this. Dan, I mean Dr. Deardon, told me not to drive on the pain meds, and I’m definitely going to want some of those. But I’m sure I can get one of the track guys to bring her home. They’re good like that, and we take care of ou
r own.
I get a flash of Todd’s face, really just his eyes, going wide and white as the flames reached him. It’s the last thing I saw before I hit the ground and my eyes closed. I didn’t pass out, but I’d kept them closed protectively—from the heat, from the dirt, from the pain in Todd’s scream.
I inhale, willing my heartbeat to slow as Brody gets out and comes around to the passenger door. He helps me out, and I step gingerly, testing the pain. My legs hold, and though it feels like being poked with hot needles, I take the few slow steps through the breakroom as he props me up, ready to catch me at any second.
At the stairs, I pause and look up. They have never seemed as daunting as they do now. Thirteen stairs of hell, but heaven is waiting up there . . . covered in cotton sheets, a fluffy blanket, and a feather pillow. And Brody wrapping his arms around me.
It’s a great incentive, and I lift my right foot for the first step.
“Let me carry you.” Brody’s voice has gone rough and deep, more of a rumble, as if seeing me in pain hurts him too.
“I can do it,” I argue, stubbornly moving my left foot to the first step too. Two feet per stair. That’s how I’m going to do this.
But I sway and lean more heavily on Brody. “You don’t have to do everything on your own. You don’t have to be strong now. It’s okay to admit that you need help.”
“I don’t.” What should sound strong and powerful sounds weak and ridiculous when I’m still standing on the first step.
Brody could just do it, sweep me into his arms and carry me upstairs, and I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about it but bitch him out. But he doesn’t. No, he stands beside me, supporting and steadying me, letting me call the shots. As if we’ve got all the time in the world, he starts talking, his voice calm and soothing as he gives me another piece of himself.
“One of the strongest women I’ve ever known was my mom, and when she got sick, I didn’t think it was going to be bad. She was invincible. But her treatments got harder, she got sicker, and Mama Louise started coming over more. They were friends back then, and she’d say she was just visiting, that she’d baked too much dinner or too many cookies, or even that she’d found a new cleaner that was supposed to make the glass shine like diamonds. All so that she could help us without it seeming like she was cooking and cleaning because Mom couldn’t. I never thought Mom was weak, not when she needed help and not even when the cancer won. She went out fighting every last step of the way, and that wasn’t changed by her letting someone carry her stubborn ass up the stairs.”
Rough Edge Page 26