Claire’s scream pierced right through my chest and I used every last ounce of strength to pull the wheelchair to a wobbly halt, my sneakers squeaking on the tile with the effort.
I rounded to the front of her, frantic.
“Claire, are you—” I broke off. The question was pointless. The answer written in bright eyes and a face-splitting smile across her face.
“We did it!” she exclaimed, obviously either unknowing or unfazed by how close we’d come to crashing.
My breath rushed out and my head hung for a quick second. “You did it,” I told her.
“I did it,” she repeated in awe, and every fear was worth that moment.
Not the moment she realized she won, the moment Claire realized she could.
Her head spun around, Garret and Harold finally catching up to us as the onlookers clapped for the rest of the participants.
“And I won!” She grinned. “Wait until I tell—”
“Claire!” Garret barreled in front of the chair, and I stepped back to let him crouch ahead of me. “Are ye—”
“I did it, Uncle G! I raced, and I won!” His worry wasn’t cut off as effectively as mine by her exuberance.
“You did,” he replied, gruffly, giving her a smile that wanted to soften every line on his face, seeing her so happy, but was constricted by the danger I’d put her in.
“Kacey. Can I talk to ye for a minute?” he asked, but it wasn’t a question.
“Help me out first!” Claire begged, eager to see her friends.
If she was asking me, Garret gave me no space to respond, reaching in and lifting her out of the boxed-in contraption.
I turned away from them and took a few steps farther down the hall away from the collecting crowd.
“Kacey.” I turned to my name—and to his wrath. “What the hell were ye thinkin’?”
“Garret, I—”
“It was just a damn game,” he cut me off loudly, drawing a few unsteady eyes before he continued in a quieter, yet somehow much more frightening tone. “It was just fer fun, but ye couldn’t leave it at that, could ye?”
My heart misfired in my chest. “No, Garret, it was—”
“Ye just wanted ta win. Had ta win. Had to risk harmin’ a girl who’s already been harmed enough.”
Anger of my own surged. I sure as hell felt bad for what almost happened. But it didn’t. Claire was okay. And I hadn’t done it on purpose.
“I’m sorry, Garret,” I charged in, determined to speak. “I obviously didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t see—”
“I know ye did. Ye always think ye can. And ye’ve never been wrong before. Ye can drive. Ye can race. No matter what they say, no matter what I thought I believed, lass, one minute in yer presence proved me wrong.”
I tried to swallow but my tongue felt thick and sticky, like hot rubber on dry asphalt, against the roof of my.
Compliments cloaked in anger. Deceptive pleasure that would be turned to pain.
My brain revolted, demanding I walk away. Demanding not to be cut down once more.
But I stayed.
I stayed for the same reason I drove. For the same reason I punched another driver. For the same reason I put myself back in Garret Gallagher’s path again and again and again.
Because I was incapable of walking away from where my heart needed to be.
On the track. In the right. In his arms.
“But sometimes ye can’t,” he hissed, the heat from the accusation hotter than the stares that were coming full force in our direction. “Sometimes, ye just can’t. And this is my fault. I shoulda stopped this from the start. I shoulda said no.” He huffed and tugged his hand through his hair, leaving it in disheveled flames.
“I shoulda known ye couldn’t be careful like that—”
“I was being careful! I wasn’t going too fast—”
“Enough!” he yelled, and this time, I knew Claire was in earshot. “Ye aren’t even careful with yerself, Kacey! Not with yer dreams, not with yer reputation, and not with yer person. I shouldna expected ye ta be careful with her when there’s only one thing on yer mind.”
The last was accompanied by a low growl as though he chased the words out of his mouth. His chest rose and fell like a moving mountain in front of me. Layers and layers of rock and stone, built up over years, hardened by storms, and buried under guilt erupted to life—and came for me.
“She coulda been hurt. And no’ the kind of hurt that just sometimes requires a cast. She coulda been—” He broke off, unable to finish, but not needing to.
She wouldn’t have died. Not from a tipped over wheelchair. But her injuries. A hit to her head. I wasn’t a doctor but cancer was a big enough threat to make me aware that recovering from any kind of normal injury wasn’t easy and could be life-threatening.
My hands dug into my hips, refusing to let them cross over my chest and protect my heart from where it was bleeding out.
“Christ,” he swore under his breath, looking to the ground and shaking his head, the peak of his anger abating.
“You’re right,” I replied with a hollow bitterness, my eyes burning with the effort to not cry as they met his once more. “I’m not careful with those things. I’m not careful with my dreams because they deserve to go as far as they can reach. I’m not careful with my reputation when it comes at the expense of my integrity.”
My gaze narrowed, the air sparking with anger and truth, fueled by the distance we’d tried to keep.
“I might not look careful with my body but it’s because I know what it can handle. When I’m not in that car, I’m thinking about being in that car. I know every muscle involved in driving it. I know every motion required. And I know my relative safety on a track when I’m the only other one on it.”
I dragged in a deep breath, oxygen popping like firecrackers in my lungs, burning each word I spoke.
“And I’m careful with Claire. Careful with her hopes, but even more careful with her fears because those are what will eat away at her long after the cancer is gone,” I warned strongly as I got in his face, hurt spewing out angrily from the emotional onslaught of the last two minutes. “And I was careful with her today.” My lip quivered with the intensity of my assertions. “Though you’ve always been quick to believe any and all first accounts of my mistakes.”
His jaw clenched, rippling the muscles in his face with frustration and a rightful shadow of second-guessing himself.
“But what I’m not careful with, Garret—G,” I corrected, reveling in the wince across his face. Lowering my voice, I tipped my head up and stood so close to him that one wrong breath would have us touch. “What I’m not careful with apparently, is my heart. Everything else, I’ve had control over. Every other part of my story, I can write. But this part… this part I keep handing to you, and you keep crossing it out. Over and over again.”
I let out a sad laugh, hating the way my body warmed from being so close to him as though it didn’t understand the pain he caused my heart.
I swallowed over the bitter ball in my throat and forged on, “It’s like racing, I can’t stop coming back for more. No matter the crashes. No matter the criticism. No matter the pain. I can’t stop chasing the thing I l—want.” I sucked in a breath, a small mercy that I caught the word before it slipped out. “But you… you’re a race I can’t win because you’re a race that refuses to let me run.”
“Dammit, Kacey,” he said gruffly, looking down the hallway that, thankfully, had mostly cleared of our audience. But instead of continuing, he froze.
I followed his face to the end where a very pretty but very pale woman stood talking to Gwen who, judging by the gestures of her hands, was describing why the hospital floor looked like a race track.
“Shit,” he spat and looked back to me. “This—we aren’t done.”
My mouth dropped as he turned and walked purposely toward the woman whose eyes were only on him. And the magnitude of pain I felt in my chest turned out to only be fore
shocks compared to the earthquake of ache that erupted.
I didn’t know who that woman was, but it was safe to assume she was Claire’s mother.
And I had no idea what their relationship was.
“We never started,” I called after him as he stalked down the hall. I saw the words hit his back like a bullet from a gun, though it didn’t stop him.
It didn’t even cause him to turn.
“Kacey!”
I bit back a moan as Claire beelined for me as soon as her uncle stalked in the opposite direction.
“What’s wrong?” She grabbed my arm. “Why is my uncle G upset?” Her eyes were wide and worried and starting to fill with tears. “It’s because I asked you to go faster, isn’t it? I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. I asked you—”
“No,” I bent down and reassured her. “No, Claire. It’s not your fault. That’s not why he’s upset. He’s just worried about you, that’s all. And I’m the adult. If anyone is to blame, it’s me.”
She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead replied, “But I felt it though.”
“Felt what?” I prompted, the wave of tears cresting dangerously close to crashing.
I wanted to leave, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t because I couldn’t stop watching Garret behind Claire’s head.
I couldn’t stop watching the way he spoke to the blonde woman.
I couldn’t stop watching the way he comforted her.
“The place you said where the rubber meets the road.”
I managed a quick smile for her. “Yeah?”
“And you were right,” she beamed at me with a watery smile. “There was no room for ‘can not.’”
“Good.” My lips formed a tight smile as the first traitorous drop slipped down my cheek.
“He can’t be mad at you,” she insisted. “I’ll tell him he can’t.” She shook her head frantically and I knew it was because of my tears.
I tried to control them. This was the last battle she should be worried about fighting.
“No, Claire,” I told her firmly, wiping my face. “This isn’t your uncle’s fault, and I don’t want you—”
“No!” she screeched and then began to sob. “He can’t be mad at you for making me believe!”
I reached for her, but I wasn’t fast enough as she tore down the hall toward the couple at the other end.
Pain made me drunk. Drunk not knowing what had just happened. What was true. What was imagined. It blurred everything into a ball of hurt, the effect of which would be lasting.
I lifted my gaze and found his.
My anger found his.
My hurt found his.
My need found his.
And when Claire barreled into him, drawing his attention, I ran.
I ran from the most dangerous thing I’d ever faced and, as I climbed into one of the waiting taxis outside the hospital, wondered why no one gave out helmets or padded suits or any kind of fancy shield for the four-lettered sport that involved risking your heart.
Garret
FOR EIGHT YEARS, I’D ONLY worried about one person.
I couldn’t count Janet or even myself as being of concern—only Claire.
How to take care of her. How to give her the best of everything. How to heal her. How to make her happy.
How to make up for the fact her father was gone.
Just because you regret something doesn’t mean you caused it.
Like a pipe that had burst, I’d been living with a constant stream of guilt over Danny’s death for almost a decade.
It flooded my life. Drowned every viable part. Seeped into all the cracks, rusting and molding not only my relationships, both personal and business, but my ability to have them.
And then Kacey came along.
Determination cloaked in an unshakeable spirit.
And slowly but surely, with her indefatigable attitude, a smile made of steel, and a body crafted from my dreams, she’d twisted me.
Twisted tighter and tighter.
And what I thought was going to ruin me, was only closing off the fount of guilt that had been flowing for so long.
But even though it was closed, there was still years of flooding inside my soul that needed to drain.
And draining it was fuckin’ painful.
Seeing all the pieces of myself I’d let drown—like happiness and adventure and wanting—come to the surface was painful.
Seeing all the things I had to share—wanted to share—with her… it was like driving for the first time.
I’d hit the gas, thinking I knew exactly what I was doing.
I’d fucked her, jolting us forward with unexpected speed. So, I’d slammed on the brakes.
Then, I let myself creep forward. Slowly. Steady pressure. Until there was a constant momentum I didn’t want to stop.
Couldn’t stop.
But then we’d gone to the hospital that morning and, just like the make-shift track, I saw a corner coming when Kacey and I had only ever gone straight—directly into desire.
But this corner was into something more. Turning into parts of my life I thought I’d always face with Janet, but still alone.
Kacey’s smile. Her excitement. The way she was with Claire… it pulled me into that corner.
It tempted me with everything I’d ever wanted before I’d lost my brother.
And it made me forget about the brakes.
I saw the way Claire’s wheelchair went up on one edge and my heart slammed against my chest, instantaneous fear and abject irrationality crashing in my mind.
And even though nothing had happened and everyone was fine, I lashed out.
I lashed out because, for the first time, I thought about all the things I wouldn’t be able to protect my niece from.
Just like I hadn’t been able to protect her father.
And I’d lashed out like a feckin’ asshole.
And now, as I stood explaining to Janet everything that happened, I realized how little danger Claire had really been in.
They hadn’t been going that fast. And with Kacey’s reaction time—something I’d witnessed in person—if the chair was going to tip, she would’ve stopped it.
If she had the strength to turn a race car with no power steering, she had the strength to right a wheelchair moving at a fraction of the speed.
And yet, I’d treated her like she’d thrown Claire in front of a moving bus—my niece who I’d pulled from the wheelchair with the biggest, brightest smile on her face I’d ever seen and who was telling anyone who would listen that she was going to be a race car driver just like the great Kacey Snyder.
“What did you do?” Janet asked.
She’d seen Kacey at the end of the hall, seen the look exchanged between us—a brand of betrayal that rivaled Brutus.
And then watched as Kacey disappeared.
“G…”
I stepped back, dropping my eyes to the plain tile floor, looking for any signs of blood from the open wound in my chest.
“Every wrong thing,” I replied. “I canna do this.” I rubbed a hand over my mouth in frustration.
“Do what?” she prompted. “Care about someone?”
“Her,” I snapped. “I canna care about her. It’s too much. Too overwhelming. It’s—”
“Love?”
I balked. My arms falling to my sides as I stared at her. The woman my brother had loved.
A love he’d lost along with his life.
“What else do you need, G?” she asked weakly. “What else do you need to take from yourself as punishment for him? You’ve already taken so much. Your happiness. Your dream job. A future for yourself.” She exhaled roughly. “Is it now time to take love away, too? What’s next, G? Your life?”
My gaze snapped angrily to hers. “How dare you—”
“How dare I what?” Angry tears collected in her eyes. “How dare I say what your brother would have? Because he might’ve been your brother, but Danny was my love. My heart. And I know how he saw you.
I know how he admired you. And I know how he would’ve called you out to see you continue the way you are—just like you do for me.”
Great.
There were only two women in my life, and both of them were angry with me right now. Talk about the luck of the Irish.
“I know how much Claire means to you, G. She’s all either of us have left of him. But sometimes, I worry that instead of being a piece of his memory that lives on, you look at her as his ghost here to remind you that you don’t deserve anything because he can’t have it.”
I gritted my teeth. My eyes searched for Kacey every few seconds, waiting for her to reappear. Waiting for her to come back and stand her ground. But she didn’t. And the emptiness inside my chest let Janet’s accusation bounce around like a lead ball, tearing through vital structures I hadn’t realized started beating again.
“I need to be here for Claire. She’s the most important thing.”
“And is she stopping you?” Her head fell. “Is that woman stopping you from being here?”
“No.” I cleared my throat. “But she’s reckless. And she wants different things—things I dinna know if I can—”
“Really?” she charged. “Because she was here. She did all this. For Claire. For you. And I only got one look, but she looks like she wants you.”
“It doesn’t matter.” I retreated. I retreated because back was the only way I knew. Forward was a complete unknown. “Claire is what’s important. Kacey… Kacey will survive. I… will survive.”
I turned and paused when Janet reached for my arm.
“We both lost him, G. The happiest of us all. The brightest. How do you think he’d feel if he could see you now? If he knew what his death did to you?”
Pissed.
The word came without warning.
Sure, Danny was always the kinder, more cheerful brother. The one who loved talking to any and everyone he met. But that didn’t mean we didn’t get into it—that we didn’t fight like brothers sometimes.
Like hotheaded Irish brothers—cursing and swearing and breaking beer mugs from time to time.
It seemed like no matter how I thought of Danny, it hurt. It hurt to think about him gone, to think about what he was missing here with Janet and Claire. It hurt to think I was still able to have a life—a full life when he wasn’t.
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