Revolution: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  “I’m just glad we could do it.”

  She glanced at me over her shoulder with a twinkle in her eyes. “It looks like you’re glad about a few other things, too.”

  Aside from a few quick text conversations since our brunch, one where I’d updated her on Garret’s reason for disappearing, we hadn’t really had a chance to talk.

  “From the smile glued to your face and the way Garret looks at you, especially when you aren’t looking, I take it the whole ‘just teammates’ plan was found to be faulty.”

  My cheeks answered first with a bright red ‘yes’. “Very faulty.”

  “Those are the juicy details I want to hear about on Saturday.” Our dinner and wine date had been scheduled for this weekend on her night off.

  Chuckling, we walked up to the self-serve coffee station and she handed me a to-go cup with a wink.

  “What I want to know is how I’m the only one with juicy details to share,” I teased, stepping to the side after my cup was filled so she could take my place.

  “I’m married to my job.” She sighed.

  “Seriously, there’s no hot doc around?” I teased as we exchanged sugar and creamer.

  “I didn’t say that.” She shrugged. “I’m just not really looking for a relationship right now.”

  “Because of work? Or because of our shared struggle with self-doubt?” For the first time, I caught the hint of a shadow on her face.

  “Both,” she admitted as we found an empty table. “But mostly, I don’t think I’m going to be here much longer.”

  “Really?” My eyes popped wide. “Where are you heading?”

  Her shoulders bumped as she sipped her coffee. “I’m not quite sure yet. I’ve worked in the northeast, now the south. I’m thinking I might head out west. My psychologist and friend, Shelly, lives out there on the coast. The photos she sends me of the views there are gorgeous.”

  “You’d still have to leave the hospital to see them, Gwen,” I reminded her gently.

  “You’re not wrong.” Her wry answer came with a sad smile.

  “You don’t like it here?” I couldn’t help but wonder since she seemed so good with the kids.

  “Oh, I do. I love it.” Her smile indicated it was the truth. “I just… can’t seem to stay in one place for too long. You see too much and it builds…”

  She didn’t have to say much more to make it clear. I couldn’t imagine the kinds of things that built up inside when dealing with childhood cancer.

  “You deserve to have a life, too.”

  “I deserve to help people. To care for them. To do my best to make sure they get well,” she paused, her brow crinkling. “I’m working on deserving the rest.”

  My heart ached for my friend—a woman who shone so brightly, it was hard to see the dark spots marring her sunny surface.

  “What about you?” she prompted, turning the conversation back to me with a lighter smile. “So, you’re here until the race in Indianapolis. Then what? Back to PA?”

  My cup paused halfway to my mouth. I hadn’t even thought about that—where I was going next.

  Where was Garret going?

  “She won’t be here forever,” Gwen said as though reading my thoughts. “If this round does the trick, Claire will be nearing the end of her treatment.”

  But would Garret still want to stay here?

  The cup finished its journey to my lips and I took a slow sip. Would I want to stay here?

  “Honestly, I don’t know. It might depend on who I’m racing for—or if I’m still racing.” I heard Renner the other night; I knew my contract was just for this race. It wasn’t just my reputation riding on Indianapolis after what happened in Daytona—it was possibly my entire career. Because when I crossed that finish line, I was a free agent again and at the mercy of a male-favored sport.

  Gwen rested her elbows on the table. “And it might depend on him?”

  “It might,” I confessed, pulling my lip between my teeth as a new wave of worries ebbed at the shores of my soul. “But I don’t want to move things too fast right now.”

  “Says the woman who moves too fast for a living.”

  I rolled my eyes and we both laughed.

  “Well, fast or slow, it doesn’t look like you’re going to get too far from him,” Gwen went on and I followed her gaze over to the cafeteria entrance to find it filled with a Irishman who looked very hungry—which made sense, this was the cafeteria. Only he was looking at me.

  “No, it doesn’t,” I murmured as a familiar heat pooled between my legs.

  “I think that’s my cue.” Gwen rose as Garret approached us, his determined gaze locked on me. “But don’t ever doubt that look, Kace,” she offered when I stood and pulled her in for a hug.

  “What look?”

  She drew back. “The one that’s making me sweat.” I laughed, shaking my head as she added, “The one that says he’d do anything for you. You.” She poked my chest with a hard stare as Garret reached us.

  “Gwen,” he greeted her and she returned it with a smile.

  “I’ve got to get going. I’ll see both of you tomorrow for the race.” A second later she was scurrying back to her job even though her break was only halfway done.

  Workaholic.

  “We should head back to the shop, lass.” His finger trailed down the side of my arm, searching for my hand.

  I nodded and grinned. “You have some magical race cars to make.”

  “I have some other magical things ta do first,” he rasped with a low voice and tugged me against him.

  My breath hitched in my chest as he kissed me hard and then led us to the exit.

  Wherever I ended up after Indianapolis, I realized I’d already been hoping it would be somewhere by his side.

  Kacey

  “WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO do before Indy?” I murmured, holding the cardboard contraption steady as Garret secured it to Claire’s wheelchair.

  One down, three to go.

  With Garret’s help, and help from the wonderful nursing staff on the floor, we’d spent the morning turning the kids into drivers, chairs into cars, and the floor into a track—and we’d done a pretty damn good job, if I did say so myself.

  With caps colored and numbered to look like helmets, Garret was able to use some large boxes the hospital had lying around to fashion the appearance of a car around the base of a wheelchair. He even managed to add on a cardboard frame for the Aeroscreen—the kids squealing to know they were some of the first to be racing IndyCar’s newest feature.

  Last night, back at the garage, we’d assembled the boxes to look like cars when set over the chairs. After we’d done a few other things first. I flushed and glanced around, hoping no one could see how those thoughts made my body steam.

  Now, the four kids helped each other color and decorate the cardboard while we attached the completed designs to the wheelchairs. Some of the nurses helped them and some began to tape off a track around the circular floor, inviting kids who didn’t want to participate to make signs and cheer from their rooms.

  His hands paused, sliding me a quick glance. “I need ta stay here as long as I can,” he replied. “Voigt knows I need to. Fer Claire.”

  We’d caught Renner on the way out this morning. He was leaving for Indianapolis to secure a place to stay, a garage, and the rest of the pit crew. The race was still two and a half weeks away, but I knew he’d be calling me up there soon. There were test days on the track. And then qualifying. Days when I would be needed, but Garret wouldn’t.

  “Of course.” I swallowed and nodded, sending him a quick smile.

  But it was bittersweet and ironic that the thought of leaving for Indianapolis—for the race of a lifetime and my dream—didn’t feel anything like I thought it would. Didn’t feel anything like it would have only a few weeks ago.

  Now, it felt like I was trading one dream for another.

  One impossible dream for another.

  Maybe how we’d come together had been
all wrong. Maybe we’d built this framework of mutual respect, stripped out of past secrets, and then replaced, piece by painstaking piece, with facts and feelings. And finally, a powerful desire that pushed us into uncharted territory.

  Maybe the order or the placement of all our misshapen parts seemed faulty from the outside. But then, I was sure that’s what most thought about a car with the engine sitting behind the seat rather than under the front hood.

  It wasn’t for everyone.

  The speed. The power. The danger of strapping yourself to something like this.

  But it was for me.

  He was it for me.

  After this week, that much was clear.

  Hell, that was the only thing that was clear.

  We’d tried hate.

  We’d tried avoidance.

  We’d tried a single fling.

  We’d tried cordial kindness.

  But there was only one option for us.

  Like fuel and a spark inside an engine, the only possible outcome was combustion.

  “I don’t want to leave,” I confessed quietly, keeping my eyes focused on my meticulous tape job until I felt the strong pull of his fingers under my chin.

  Meeting his eyes, I could see he heard what I said. I don’t want to leave you—either of you.

  I wanted my dream. But I also wanted him… in equal and incomprehensible measures.

  “I want ye, lass,” he rasped low, sending a spool of heat down low in my stomach. “And I’m no’ lettin’ ye go.” He sighed. “I’ll be there fer the race.”

  I sighed at the rough press of his mouth to mine, hidden by our crouched and close-quartered positions.

  Or so I thought.

  “Uncle G?”

  Garret pulled away, clearing his throat and turning to Claire. “Yeah, Bear?”

  Her narrowed gaze looked between the two of us before a huge smile cracked over her face. “Never mind.” She beamed. “Take your time.” And with that instruction, sauntered off to where they were decorating the windows of some of the rooms.

  I laughed as Garret groaned.

  “Ye know that’s no’ the end of it,” he grumbled, and I laughed even harder. “After this race, we’re goin’ ta have some explainin’ to do.”

  My grin began to widen before it halted in its tracks, a sudden thought crashing into me.

  “And what about our race?”

  My conversation with Gwen came back and bubbled out of me.

  “What do ye mean?” He went back to work.

  “After Indy, Garret. After you’re done with Voigt’s car,” I pressed, swallowing over the lump in my throat that was a ball of memories, recalling how he couldn’t stand this sport or most of the people in it. How he was only doing this to pay for Claire’s treatment.

  How living my dream was the equivalent of his nightmare.

  He paused, his chin dipping for a moment. “I don’t know. Haven’t thought about it,” he replied. “Just tryin’ ta focus on one thing at a time.”

  One thing at a time.

  I nodded. I could do that.

  Except that I wasn’t sure that I could.

  I knew the moment I wanted to race. The seven-thousand RPM feeling that settled in my blood. Only after did all the questions descend—How did I build a car? How did I pay for it? What licenses did I need? How did I practice? How did I get teams to notice me?

  I stood and moved to the next wheelchair, hoisting the red and blue Captain America cardboard car over it while Garret set to work taping it together.

  Where did we go from here?

  Where Claire was?

  What about racing? Was this the last time we’d both work on a track together?

  Would he still want me if I refused to give up racing?

  Would he be able to live on the outskirts of a world that had taken so much from him?

  “Alright, Claire, are you ready?” I crouched down, murmuring in her ear as we waited on the starting line, the three other wheelchairs lined up and manned by boys who wanted to join in my makeshift event.

  “Ye sure you don’t want me pushin’ ye, Bear?” Garret asked, standing behind Harold’s chair directly next to us.

  “Yes, Uncle G!” she insisted, beaming. “You just build the cars. Kacey is the best driver, that’s why we’re going to win!”

  “Ye wound me, Bear,” Garret feigned his hurt and offense.

  “It’s just the truth, Uncle G.” She shrugged, mercilessly.

  I bit my lip but it didn’t stop the snicker that escaped and then turned into full-blown laughter.

  “I don’t know,” he grunted, his eyes twinkling at me, happiness lighting up this man’s face like the most beautiful constellation of stars. “She’s pretty clumsy if you ask me.”

  “Hey!” I exclaimed and playfully swatted him, a thrill of heat—of something more pooling low in my stomach. Quickly tearing my gaze back to my driver, I asked, “Ready?”

  “Yes!” she squealed.

  “Alright.” I looked down the line of chairs, the far two children being pushed by their fathers. “Gentlemen… and lady”—my cheeks flushed, catching Garret’s warm gaze—“start your engines!”

  The kids, along with the audience lining the hallway track, began to make engine noises like Garret had taught them. Growls and rumbles interspersed with hints of laughter echoes around the fifth floor of the children’s hospital, cameras flashing and bystanders clapping.

  Gwen raised the green ‘flag’—a piece of paper colored by some of the other kids—ready to start the race, beaming brightly at me. In her other hand was a similar checkered version for the finish after the large lap.

  My fists tightened on the handles of the chair, feeling them start to sweat. I glanced down, noticing how Claire’s grip responded similarly on the grips of her fake steering wheel.

  As the sound began to fade, Gwen gave a nod to me and the rest of the pushers before she brought the paper down with an erratic flutter and yelled, “Go!”

  Not quite like the real thing, but compromises needed to be made.

  The balls of my feet pushed off the tile and shot Claire and me forward down the long length of the hall. Laughter and cheers set the clatter of the rolling chairs to music as we began to race around the floor.

  “To the left!” I yelled to Claire as we came to the first corner, reminding her to lean as we turned.

  I’d taken a few minutes to explain to all of them the kinds of g-forces a driver experienced going around the track. Here, without the various belts, buckles, and racing seat to keep them steady, I told them they would have a tougher time around this track and instructed them to lean into the corners.

  And Claire followed my directions to a T.

  “Go, Kacey, go!” she squealed as we came through the corner in the lead and took off down the straight.

  After the first corner, the other two boys fell back. They were a little younger than Claire and Harold. I figured their fathers wouldn’t push them quite as fast.

  Meanwhile, I felt Garret on my heels, Harold yelling, ‘Faster’, right behind me.

  “Lean!” I reminded as I pulled back on the handles of the chair, slowing it to round the second corner.

  Kids, families, and nurses all stood along the wall, clapping and cheering as we flew by. But I noticed Claire wasn’t focused on them—it hardly looked like she even noticed them.

  Her hands were gripped on the front of the box, her body bent forward, and her gaze focused on the track ahead.

  She was in the zone.

  I knew that zone.

  The one where the world disappeared. Faded into the asphalt. Worries, opinions, fears, they were too slow to keep up with you here.

  I didn’t have to remind her this time, she tipped to the left as we approached the third turn, my arms beginning to burn along with my newly-healed ankle.

  Who knew pushing a seven-year-old in a wheelchair worked different muscles than keeping a thousand-pound race car under control?
r />   Garret had slowed, Harold wanting to high-five his friends on the sidelines of the last straight.

  “Faster, Kacey!” My demanding driver yelled.

  I laughed and then dragged in a deep breath to fuel my pumping heart. Crouching closer to the handles, I pushed my legs even harder.

  “Faster, faster!”

  I bit my cheek. I couldn’t go much faster, especially not with the last turn coming up.

  “Kacey!” I heard Garret’s warning yell somewhere behind me.

  Still, I gave her one last push forward, knowing I had enough time to slow us down again.

  We shot forward and I heard her excited cry, a smile spreading over my face. My brake zone began at the edge of the nurses’ desk that wrapped around the final corner. I braced to slow us down, but just as Claire began her lean into the corner, the left wheels caught an uneven bump in the tile. Even with Claire’s weight straining toward the left, it caused the chair to careen onto the two right wheels as we went into the turn.

  My heart shot up into my throat, beating loudly in my ears as panic raced through me. My arms screamed as I tried to temper the careening weight of the chair, but it wasn’t enough. We had too much momentum and, with the weight being thrown off, I wasn’t able to slow us in time.

  “Left, Claire!” I cried out, my ankle burning angrily as I pushed all my weight to try to bring the chair back down even as I forced us forward. We needed to keep this pace even if that meant finishing the corner with only half the chair on the ground. Faster or slower risked breaking the steady path the wheels took.

  And I could only pray we didn’t crash.

  And I’d never been more afraid of crashing than at that moment.

  More afraid that the activity I’d come up with to cheer Claire up could end up harming her.

  More afraid that Garret was right, I didn’t belong here. With her. With him.

  But most afraid that I’d risked my heart with no protection and no warning.

  My lungs exhausted every last ounce of air from them as the corner ended, the two wheels that had been airborne crashed back to the ground, the chair bouncing as it regained equilibrium just as we passed Gwen and the checkered paper she waved over her head.