by Shey Stahl
Rage inflicting punches soared and commotion broke out around us, voices raised, but no one was sure what to say, or do. There was nothing they could do; we were pounding years of guilt and regret into those punches, and we couldn’t stop.
I must’ve hit him close to ten times before Jameson ran inside the shop.
“Fuck…come on, guys.” He yanked us apart, calm and collected, two things we weren’t. “That’s enough. You’re destroying shit in here.”
I didn’t even realize it, but we were bumping into the car, knocking over engines, and parts; you name it and it was scattered all over the shop floor. Looked like a fucking war zone.
We stood there, me trying to get back at him and Jameson having to hold me back. It wasn’t easy; I was reaching around him, over him, anything I could do.
“You son of a bitch! You ever call her a bitch again, I’ll make you eat your motherfucking words!” My chest clenched when the words spilled out, lungs burning with each unsteady breath, too heavy to hold in.
I wasn’t done with this piece of shit, and it took everything in me not to shove Jameson away and nail him. His nose was broken, and I’d gotten some solid ones to his right eye that would surely be leaving its mark.
With one hand on me and the other on Easton, Jameson wanted an answer. “What the hell is going on in here?” His head twisted, staring down Easton. “And who did you call a bitch?”
“Go ahead, tell ‘em, Hollywood.”
Say it. Tell him. I fuckin’ dare you.
“Nothing.” Easton spit blood, raising his shirt to wipe it over his eyebrow I’d split open. Letting go of the cotton balled in his hand, his shirt fell back down. Feeling the blood still flowing, his forearm raised to swipe over that same eye that wouldn’t stop bleeding.
Jameson reached behind him, finally letting go of me, and tossed Easton a shop towel.
Fuck this piece of shit.
Fuck him.
If he wanted it, I’d hand him everything he had coming. Motherfucker.
Jameson looked between us, his hands on his hips. “Someone better explain why there’s an eighty thousand dollar engine on the ground.”
Staring down, I noticed the engine that had been dropped from the cherry picker. It landed on the end of the crank shaft and bent it. It was junk.
Bending over, I picked up Easton’s sunglasses, I tossed them at his feet and then looked at my bloody hand and his face that matched it. “Now ya gotta reason to hide behind your shades.”
Easton said nothing, swelling rage giving way as he stood, his penetrating glare felt within our five foot separation between Jameson.
With his palms raised in defeat, Easton gave me one last look as he twisted, picking up his sunglasses. “If you see my wife, tell her I’m looking for her.”
Wife?
She was never yours to begin with.
With a mouth full of blood, I approached Willie and Tommy, looking at me with curiosity.
When I reached them, I spit the blood on the floor and stared at them, wiping the back of my hand over my mouth, and then down the side of my shorts. “Don’t fucking repeat anything you heard in here.”
Tommy held his hands up, wide-eyed. “Not saying anything.”
Without another word, I walked away and toward the bay doors where my truck was parked.
As I was leaving, I heard Willie say, “Did he spit blood at you?”
With heavy steps across the blacktop to my truck, I flung the door open and reached for my hat. When I had it on, Jameson leaned out the door and barked, “Get your ass back in here, Rager.”
Okay. I had some explaining to do.
Like a scolded child, I made my way back over to him. “What the fuck was that?”
With my bloody hands in my pockets, I kept my hat down low and my eyes on the painted gray concrete. I could feel the blood seeping through from my knuckles, painting my cargo shorts dark red.
Counting the smudges where tools had nicked the shit out of the ground, thrown by too much testosterone and aggressive fools, I did everything I could not to look at him. Who wanted to see the disappointment in his eyes? Not me.
And I knew it was there. He thought more of me. Thought I’d keep my head.
He was wrong.
When it came to his daughter, my head had spun long ago.
Tires screeched in the parking lot as Easton sped out. Jameson nodded to his truck parked three spots from mine. “Come on, let’s go have a beer. We need to talk.”
Talk?
He wanted to talk to me?
Fuck.
YOU NEVER WANTED to have these talks with Jameson Riley. Mostly because he was fucking intimidating as hell. I’d been racing for him for eleven years, and I’d heard the phrase, “We need to talk,” twice.
First time was when I nearly lost my ride after my sponsor had enough of my temper. Second time was when Arie was fucking around with Grady. He questioned me about what I knew.
At the restaurant, the one he owned, we sat drinking beer and eating nachos placed in the center of the table.
Rosa came, nearly spilling a pitcher of beer on Jameson’s lap. He grumbled something to her as she stared at me. “What the fuck happened to you, killer?”
I raised an eyebrow at her, my face burning with the action. “Killer?”
“Did he do this to you?”
I nodded, teasing. “Yeah, I didn’t win. Boss man wasn’t happy.”
A slow grin formed on Jameson’s face when Rosa glared at him. “That’s child abuse.”
“How so? He’s twenty-nine.”
Rosa reached for the pitcher of beer and Jameson glared. “You dump that on me like you did last time and I’ll have you deported.”
“Ha.” She started to walk away. “Good luck.”
The both of us laughed as Rosa strutted away, over to the hostess station where she kicked her feet up and put a sign up that read, “Seat yourself.”
Jameson tipped his beer my direction, looking me over after a long pull from his glass. “What’s going on?”
My glass felt heavy as I brought it to my broken lip, the sting evidence he did a number on my face. Briefly, I contemplated what Arie was going to say when she saw this.
I could feel his gaze searching mine, looking for a truth he wasn’t sure I was going to tell him. “I expect you to tell me the truth.”
“This can’t work unless you go along with it, Rager.”
I wanted to tell him, but I couldn’t go against what Arie said. It was the one way I could still be with her and protect her from the backlash that was coming. The truth that would destroy her eventually.
When it all came out, I knew the harshness that would take over, and for now, I wanted to pretend it didn’t exist. For her…I’d give it all up. This ride, my life. For her…anything.
“It was just a long time coming.” A nagging tension spread over us, he knew I was lying to him. I hated how easily the lie rolled off my tongue. Hated that I was lying to him of all people. And then I remembered that what I said wasn’t necessarily a lie. It just wasn’t the entire truth.
He nodded, his eyes making a lazy path over the stage the construction workers diligently finished to our left in the corner of the restaurant, in preparation for the JAR Racing party next month. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and Easton, or you and my daughter, but what happened in the shop today will not happen again. It’s a place of business. I don’t want to see that shit ever again, understand?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
I was once that smart-ass kid who would have said, “He started it,” or some other useless bullshit that placed blame on anyone but myself.
Not now.
I knew I started that.
And despite my appearance, I finished it. “I’m sorry it happened in there. I’ll pay for the damages.” I had no idea how I’d pay for an eighty-thousand dollar engine right now with a kid on the way, but I couldn’t have him thinking I wouldn’t.
�
�That’s not necessary.” And then he raised an eyebrow. “But if it happens again, it’s coming out of your paycheck.”
The way he was listening to everything I said, his face devoid of any emotion or judgment. He was so calm now that it didn’t suit him. Made me think he was trying too hard to control his emotion. I knew the rowdy Riley everyone spoke about. I’d seen his temper first hand. I’d seen him pick up a transmission and toss it across the shop like it was nothing.
So why wasn’t he giving me that same temper?
After a few minutes, Jameson took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes. “I’m stepping down from Riley-Harris Racing at the end of the season.”
“Is that what you were talking about with Easton?”
He thought before answering. “No…I haven’t spoken to anyone about this except Sway.” Leaning forward with his elbows on the wood table, his hand jerked through his hair, shaking his head back and forth. “It’s not something I’ve taken lightly…” There was so much confliction in his voice, I could tell this decision hadn’t come easy to him. “But since Jack died, I want to be here with my family, and not there. I want my attention on JAR Racing, where it’s always been.”
I nodded, feeling cautious about anything I said from here on out. He was trusting me with this information, and what was I doing? Lying to him.
His daughter was carrying my child.
His grandchild.
And he thought it was Easton’s.
I knew the truth, but couldn’t say anything.
Jameson was quiet suddenly, expression unwavering, swallowing hard and looking like he said too much. “I’d appreciate it if this stayed between us.”
He trusts you, and you’re lying to him.
Leaning back in the chair, I felt bruises forming everywhere, my arms crossing over my chest. “What happens with the Cup teams then?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He thought for a moment, and then said, “It’s my name on the line here.”
He was right. It was. And I understood that because anything you said and did these days was tied back to it. One lapse in judgment followed you for years.
The thing was, he was given a name, and he earned the reputation that came with it. Rowdy Riley. Far greater than those around him, he demanded respect and he was right, his name was on the line.
When I looked at Jameson, I saw a proud man who knew exactly who he was. I only hoped that someday I could have half the clout he held in my eyes.
ARIE’S ULTRASOUND WAS later that day, and I wanted to attend with her, support her in any way I could. To be honest, I was scared as hell. For a while, I was upset with myself that I wasn’t overly excited about being a father. I knew I would be eventually, but when did that excitement come for a father? It seemed for Arie it was already there, any time her hand touched her stomach, she was excited. I kept waiting for my moment.
I met Arie at her doctor’s office since I took a lot longer having lunch with her dad. The moment I walked into the waiting room, I had some explaining to do.
Her eyes went wide, her hand over her mouth. “What the hell happened to you?”
“Would you believe me if I said your dad hit me?” I asked when I sat down next to her, my head tipped back against the wall.
“No.”
I flicked my hat up so she could have a better view of my face, examining every mark.
“Rosa didn’t either.”
Arie sat back in her seat, still looking at me. “So what really happened?”
“Easton was at the shop.”
“So he hit you?”
I nodded, just once. “Yep.”
“Did you do anything to provoke it?”
“Maybe.”
“Does he look the same?”
“Worse. I gave him a reason to hide behind those shades.”
A grin formed. “Hmmm.”
“You’re not mad?”
“Nope.”
That went surprisingly well. Now, if this appointment went that well.
Gearhead – The part of the motor that converts basic motor speed to rated output speed and increases motor torque.
“CONGRATULATIONS…YOU’RE HAVING twins!”
Nothing could have prepared me for those words.
Twins.
“Are you serious?” Rager stared at the screen. “Maybe it’s just a big baby. She has been eating a lot.”
My hand jetted out to smack his stomach. He made a coughing sound with a laugh, trying to put his arms on me again. I wanted to rip off those hands.
The radiologist grinned. “I’m serious.” Then she pointed to the screen. There’s the boy, he’s the small one of the two…and there’s the girl.”
A boy and a girl.
Two.
As in two diapers to change.
Two babies.
TWO!
With his palm on my back, Rager ghosted his nose along my cheek. “Don’t freak out.”
No wonder I feel so fat. There’s TWO!
My eyes went wide. “You’re not freaking out?”
He shook his head, the smile never fading. “Nope.”
“You’re lying.”
“Nah…”
The radiologist laughed at his cool behavior. “He’s gonna be a good daddy.”
“See…” He prodded, nudging my shoulders. “Good daddy.”
I slumped back against the table, the paper crinkling underneath me. “No…you’re just trying to get me to let you stick it in my ass.”
The radiologist’s eyes went wide, much like mine when she said boy and girl. “Okay…well,” she stood, her hands running down the front of her scrubs as she handed us a photograph of the babies, “here’s their first portrait.”
When she left us alone, Rager peered down at me. “What’s wrong, baby?”
“Nothing…just surprised.”
“Imagine her.” He gestured to the door. “I thought she was going to choke when you said that.”
“Rager…” He could see the panic in my face; it was written over every tensed feature. “Are you sure you’re okay with this, because if you’re not…I understand…” His fingers silenced my lips, then were replaced with his lips.
“I love you. I don’t care if she said we’re having triplets.”
And he did. I had no doubt.
Shaking my head in disbelief, I held the picture in my hand, still trying to process it. I was most definitely in shock when I said, “It was the Outlaw Super Sweet Sperm.”
Rager snorted. “The what?”
“Nothing.”
THE OUTLAW SEASON wrapped up two weeks after Rager and I found out it was twins. My excitement was contained to the moments when Rager and I were alone. It had to be and that was frustrating in a sense because I felt like January first, the day we were going to announce the divorce, would never come. But then again, I didn’t want to rush a moment of my time with Rager, or my pregnancy. I saw firsthand how easily life could be taken away.
The thought of being able to announce it and openly express how I felt about Rager to my family, and everyone else, was what kept me going.
Rager and Easton had apparently been in a fight the day we found out we were having twins. I knew that was coming eventually, so I wasn’t upset about it. It was one of those things that was inevitable. They both had so much aggression surrounding whatever this was; I understood. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I wasn’t the least bit surprised to hear from my dad that Rager had done a number on Easton. Broke his nose and busted his eye open, which needed six stitches. I bet model girl was nursing him back to health just fine.
Axel ended up winning his first World of Outlaws Championship that year while Rager ended up second. A week before Thanksgiving, Dad held the annual JAR Racing party to celebrate the end of the season.
Lily showed back up, and sure enough, she was pregnant with their baby. Like due any day pregnant.
Axel forgave her and I understood why. He loved her, the kind of love that could
withstand anything, even the loss of a child. So much happened beyond what I was aware of, and though I didn’t like how she treated my brother and wasn’t open with him, was I really someone who should be judging her? Here I was six months pregnant with twins and the person everyone thought was the father, wasn’t.
The one drinking straight from a bottle of whiskey beside him was.
I hadn’t seen Easton in a few months since we had our meeting with the lawyers and decided on how everything would be split. And that was before the fight with him and Rager.
I didn’t want to see him that night at the JAR Racing party. As far as I was concerned, he was an asshole.
Seeing how everyone thought we were still married and expecting twins, I was forced to play along for the night though, as was Rager. It had to have killed him to think that someone else had his hands on his girl.
I knew it did when at one point, with a purposely delivered smug grin, Easton placed his hand on my stomach.
My stare immediately went to Rager, who looked like he wanted to rip Easton’s arms off as he watched the interaction with unveiled interest. From where we stood, ten feet away from him, I swore that if I listened closely, I could hear the beat in Rager’s chest speed, the tenseness of his muscles and the heat of his gaze, the war waging inside his storm clouded eyes. If he could have forced himself blind in that moment, he would have not to see another man touching his unborn children.
Easton’s hand dropped and his smile faded as I turned away, watching Axel talking with my dad. Easton stepped away toward Spencer, standing in the corner with Tate.
With no one around me as I stood near the bar wishing for whiskey, I lost myself to my thoughts, feeling awkward and out of place.
I didn’t have to turn around to know who was behind me when I felt the heat. My vision threatened to blur as tears stung my eyes. Turning around, I was met with Rager’s stare, a crease formed between his brows.
Wearing a black tux, his jacket had long sense disappeared and gone was the tie he had on earlier. Rager’s physical features still roused emotions and reactions inside of me. Ones that in a time like this, I couldn’t control.