Open Wheel

by Shey Stahl

  Sitting down on their couch, I pulled a fleece blanket from the other end over me. The rain was moving in and dropped the temperature from the mid-nineties this afternoon to the low eighties and I felt it. But I was usually cold.

  Bailey watched me, smiling, and held up a bottle of tequila. “I’m done breastfeeding. Sawyer doesn’t like it, so that means…”

  “We get to drink?”

  My eyes lit up when I saw the bottle. “Yep.”

  I brought my arm up in the air, making a fist and then dragged it down slowly. “Yes.”

  Given my mood and attitude, the fact I was calm made me think at any moment I was going to break. Maybe if I had tequila, the breaking wouldn’t hurt as badly.

  Right?

  Right.

  Bailey came over with two shot glasses and set them on the coffee table in front of us. “Lane’s at the bar…and when he gets back, I'll probably be shit-faced.”

  “Who’s he at the bar with?” I dared to ask, my way of wondering if Rager was in town.

  “Rager and Axel.”

  Hearing Rager’s name sent a jolt through me, instantly, all over. My body flushed at the name, like it had that much control over me. And it did.

  “Should we call Hayden?” I asked after the third shot. Before Bailey was pregnant, these two were my drinking buddies.

  “I already did after I texted you.” Bailey poured another shot for the two of us. “She said something about a fuck fort and couldn’t make it.”

  A fuck fort? I had no idea what that was, but knowing Hayden and Casten, it was dirty and not something I wanted to know about my younger brother.

  “I see.”

  Drink after drink, my mind settled down and focused on nothing in particular until I saw what looked to be a child’s scrapbook on the table with Rager’s picture on the front. “What’s that?”

  Bailey rolled her eyes. “Abigale’s wedding planner.”

  I picked it up, setting it in my lap and flipped it open. Immediately I burst out laughing because I could have seen myself doing something like this when I was five. It literally was her wedding planner. It had things like where she wanted to get married and even clippings of dresses and shit like that. All out. Nothing you’d think a child could have created.

  “Let me guess…Aunt Emma?”

  Bailey shook her head, giving me this look of complete loss. “She’s encouraging it. How the hell am I going to tell her that he’s twenty years older than her? No way I’m allowing that.”

  “She’ll move on eventually.” I set the book back down and reached for the tequila.

  “I love Rager, but no way do I want him as a son-in-law.”

  “What about a cousin-in-law?”

  Bailey burst out laughing. “See…I knew it. You’re into him.”

  “I’m married.”

  By the look that was given to me, she knew without me saying anything that wasn’t entirely true. Lucky for me, she left it at that.

  I knew eventually Rager and Lane were gonna come back to the house, and I wanted to be gone by that point. I should have been because I knew what would happen once I saw him. Same old argument, or we got drunk and tortured one another. But if I told him that E and I were over, then what?

  He could keep a secret, right?

  Bailey had run upstairs to check on Sawyer when I heard Lane’s truck pull up, and then the throaty rumble of Rager’s Ford Raptor.

  My heart stared thumping in my chest, muscles tensed and squeezed, beating so loud I felt the pulsing in my eyes. Maybe it was the effects of the alcohol in my veins, or maybe it was just that this was Rager Sweet and my body responded to him in ways I couldn’t control.

  Hopelessly, my hands fidgeted with the bottle sitting between my legs.

  When I heard them coming up to the door, I tried to swallow over the lump forming. Only it felt like I was trying to swallow over sand. Licking my lips, I tried to bring moisture to my dry mouth.

  Laughter broke out, heavy footsteps, and then the door shutting softly and Lane giggling, trying to be quiet. “Shhh.”

  Lane giggled. He always did. You wouldn’t think a man could giggle, but Lane could when he was drunk. Made him sound like his daughter.

  Which meant Rager was drunk.

  His mood could potentially go two different ways tonight. He would either be lazy-lidded and smiling, or tortured-tamed and glaring.

  When he came around the corner into the family room where I was, his expression to seeing me forced the air from my lungs in a gasp.

  “Hey you,” he said, his lips parting over the words and sending my heart thumping painfully so.

  Rager had this way of making you squirm just by his stare. No one else made me feel like that, but him.

  I’m single! Not officially, but I love you! Always have!

  Slow down, tequila talking girl. Slow. The. Fuck. Down.

  Drawing in a careful breath, the tequila did speak for me. Random shit that didn’t matter. “I heard Abigale thinks you two are getting married.”

  “Yeah, she has a plan for that.” He laughed, his shoulders hunched a little as he sat next to me.

  I smiled, feeling like I could tease him a little now that he was smiling himself. “Guess I’m the one who lost my chance there.”

  There was a look on his face then, a flickered expression, fleeting quickly. “Sadly, that couldn’t be further from the truth.” There was a deep inhale, his chest expanding. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked around seeing that we were alone.

  His teeth grinded, his swallow was deep. “The first time I kissed you, I knew I was fucked. Still am.”

  I said nothing as I brought the shot glass that had already been poured to my lips. Our eyes met and I downed the shot and then placed the glass on the coffee table.

  “I’m sorry for Vegas.” A breath and a sigh followed. “I don’t think I ever said that.”

  I looked at him, trying to decide if this was just drunk Rager talking or if he meant what he was saying to me this time.

  “You didn’t…” Rager’s hand found the front of his hair in frustration the moment I spoke. “And I’m sorry too.”

  We sat in silence, Bailey and Lane upstairs, probably cooing over their baby, when Rager sighed, the action catching my attention because I knew that sigh. He was frustrated that here we were again, in this same scene.

  “Did you sleep with that girl?” I asked.

  He wouldn’t look at me, his stone like stare on the ground. “Does it matter?”

  “I suppose not,” I said quickly, whisper strangled, my throat constricting with each word.

  His gaze returned, but he said nothing more, at least not in words. His expression was begging me to say something more. What I didn’t know.

  I knew then he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of knowing. It was a fuck you of sorts. A none of your business.

  I could understand that, in part, because that was basically the reaction I gave him in Vegas when he asked about Easton, and I’d been giving it to him since then.

  Rager knew Easton and I were done, but the fact I wouldn’t say anything made him mad. Irritated him that I didn’t trust him enough to tell him.

  Rager stood, running his hands down the front of his cargo shorts and then walked into the kitchen and around the counter to the fridge for a beer.

  He handed me a beer and I shook my head. “I’m done.”

  Lane and Bailey came back downstairs half dressed, and we knew it was time to go.

  Bailey gave an apologetic stare. “I’m sorry. It’s just we never get much alone time when the kids are sleeping.”

  “It’s okay. I’m tired anyways,” I lied, motioning toward the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow for our walk, right?”

  Bailey and I had this plan that we were going to start walking the five-miles of trails around the property here that Casten ran every day. Actually, he’d bet us we couldn’t, so we were now hell-bent on proving his cocky ass wrong.


  “I’ll be at your house at eight.”

  “Sure you will,” I teased, heading for the door. Bailey was never on time for anything. But then again, she had two kids. Being on time went out the window the moment they started walking, if you asked me. I’d seen it happen to my brothers.

  Rager followed me to the door, giving Lane a nod and Bailey a hug.

  “You’re not staying here tonight?” Bailey asked him.

  “Nah.” He gave his own nod to the door. “I’m gonna head back to Sarver in the morning. I’ll just catch a few hours of sleep in my truck.”

  “You don’t have to do that,” Lane noted, eyes on his wife and then flickering toward Rager. “Just stay in the guest room like you always do.”

  “It’s fine.” Rager reached for the door handle. “Go fuck her,” he said crassly with a grin at Bailey.

  I laughed, my cheeks warming at the comment, and walked out the door. The click it made behind me startled me because when I looked back, Rager was closer than I expected. My heart was pounding, my breath seen in the air before me.

  “See ya around,” he mumbled, eyes on his feet as he headed toward his truck and I walked up the road. It wasn't like I needed someone to walk me home. He knew that.

  Lane stuck his head out the door and yelled after Rager. “Walk her home, man!”

  Looking back, I waved. “It’s okay. I'm fine.”

  I heard the slap of Rager’s feet against the puddles.

  “Wait up,” he yelled after me.

  Walking up the road, raindrops pelted my heated skin like lake water on a weathered cracked summer dock. A half a mile up the road, we stood on the steps of my front porch, waiting, neither of us wanting the moment to end, no matter how awkward it might be.

  Rager stared at me, his eyes deceiving his reticent defiance.

  “Would it make you happy if I stayed away?” he asked, his voice barely heard over the rain falling and the howl of the wind.

  “Happy? No. It’d kill me.” I spoke honestly, something he needed to hear. He needed to know the way I felt about him wasn’t going to change.

  “Then tell me what to do?” He seemed to be begging at this point, a put me out of my misery or let me in.

  “Stay.”

  With a heavy sigh, Rager sat down on the steps, his hands resting on his knees.

  Every time I looked at Rager, I saw what years of hiding behind arrogance had done to him. It made me want to grab him and force him to kiss me. Denying myself of him for so long was making it worse.

  I knew I was still married to Easton. Legally.

  I knew that, but it still didn’t stop my heart from wanting Rager.

  Bringing the beer in his hand to his mouth, Rager stared straight ahead, watching the raindrops on the walkway, each one like the pounding of our hearts as it hit the puddle and then the wake it left.

  “I was an idiot for not stopping you from getting married.”

  “Rager…” I said, feeling the need to interject now. “We are both to blame. I never truly listened to what you were saying—”

  He held up a hand to stop me. “I know. I know I could have stopped and talked to you when you said you were getting married, and we wouldn’t be in this fucking mess. Instead, I was afraid of what you would say.” His voice was low and gritty, an edginess present. “I was afraid that if I asked if you felt the same way about me, too, you would tell me something I didn’t want to hear.” He closed his eyes and tipped his head forward, fisting his hair in hands. Pausing, he sucked in a deep, shaky breath. He was so distraught over this I almost felt guilty, but we needed to have this discussion. He ran his hands over his face, covering his eyes for a moment. “I also couldn’t blame you for turning to him. I was pissed when I found out about him, that you were seeing someone else and never gave me a chance, but I couldn’t blame you.”

  We were both quiet as I processed everything he said to me. What we did, why we treated each other the way we did sucked, but we were young and naïve to what it was we were really doing to each other. Now it was clear.

  We sat in silence until I was finally able to ask what I wanted to ask. “Where does this leave us now?”

  He chuckled, but it wasn’t from amusement, but rather confusion or maybe even spite. “I told you, Arie. I don’t want you with him. I don’t.”

  He looked at me long and hard like he was making sure I understood that this was something I needed to do for me, not for him or Easton.

  We both knew this moment was changing everything between us. Setting his beer down on the concrete, it clanked as it hit, drawing my eyes to his. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he groaned. He appeared casual in a sense, bulletproof, but he wasn’t. Not around me.

  “But…” Here it came, his let down. The part where I knew he was going to tell me that it was over before it even started. “I can’t do this with you anymore, Arie. I need to walk away. For good.” His expression became serious. “It’s killing me.” His exhale came from deep within his chest. “I’m fucking blind to everything else that’s around me.” His hands fisted in his mess of thick hair. “I’m fuckin’ dying inside trying to stay away from you. You haunt me.”

  My heart pounded, my bare feet in the puddle. I couldn’t look at him when I said my next words, because I still couldn’t believe it was true. “Easton asked for a divorce. We’re separated and our divorce will be final in February.”

  Rager didn’t look at me. He couldn’t. His body was shaking, but it wasn’t from the cold or the rain.

  He trapped me in the silence, his breathing barely controlled as adrenaline slowly trickled through my veins.

  Standing from his position beside me, he looked down at me and his knees hit the pavement in front of me, his eyes on mine, a raw unconcealed ache taking over. “I’m done.”

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  “I’M DONE.”

  What does that mean?

  What is he doing?

  The words closed around me, and I was afraid to believe them. Afraid they would never be true in any way other than in my dreams. He couldn’t be on his knees before me with his hands on my knees, could he?

  Before I could say anything, his lips were on mine with a desperate edge that couldn’t be denied any longer.

  The second his burning mouth scorched mine, I lost every bit of control I had, the control I fought so hard to repudiate for so long. There was no use now. You could only deny yourself something for so long before it became a need.

  Rager made a groan, low and deep in his chest, pushing me back against the concrete patio. The steps dug into my back, but I didn’t care. I would give anything for this feeling to continue and last forever, regardless of the pain.

  His chest pressed into mine, my hands wrapped around his neck and then gripped his thick black hair, which haunted me, begging to be threaded between my fingers. The water from the rain made my fingers slide through with ease.

  His feet slid against the wet pavement, wild motions, scrambling to get closer when I felt his hips come in contact with mine, me on the last step, him on the first. Wrapping my legs around his waist, I dug my heels into his ass, trying to make him press harder into me, needing the contact and to feel how much he wanted me, too. He was hard, so hard I gave a little gasp at the contact.

  Rager’s breath pelted against my neck, adding to the humidity in the air from the storm, his tongu
e gliding over my damp skin from my collarbone, higher, across my jaw before returning to my mouth.

  “Damn it,” he growled in frustration, his hands cupping my cheeks to deepen the kiss, his mouth giving everything and then so much more. As I tasted him, we were alive with temptation we couldn’t resist any longer. Didn’t need to resist.

  Being with him this way, kissing me, was unlike anything I ever felt with Easton. This right here was the way it needed to be. The way it should have been all along.

  But then he pulled back and stared at me, his pink cheeks evident of the heat today and his heavy blinking eyes indicated he had a few drinks. He wasn’t drunk though. No way.

  “I’m not stopping this time,” he told me between kisses.

  Don’t. Don’t ever stop again. Give me everything you can. I’ll take anything.

  “Don’t, stay. Always stay… ” I said, words flying from my mouth in a rush to make him see I needed him so much more than I could have ever conveyed.

  We lingered there for a moment, his gaze holding mine intently, our breathing urgent and labored at the thought that this time, we wouldn’t stop.

  There really wasn’t anything coming between us anymore. For so long, the only part of this preventing him was me being married. Now that he knew where that stood, it changed what this was and where it would go from here.

  And then he shifted in a rushed moment, snaking his hands around my back. Wrapping my legs tighter around him, Rager picked me up, carrying me to the door, knocking over flower pots and glass butterflies that marked the words, Garden, to one that wasn’t there.

  Fumbling with the door handle, his hands and actions were nearing frantic. I was right there with him.

  I was kissing him everywhere I could, whether it be his lips, cheek, jaw, ears… anything, and practically clawing at him. I couldn’t stop myself.