Revolution: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Dr. Rebecca Sharp

  So, I didn’t.

  But then it hurt to imagine him seeing me like this—the anger, the disappointment.

  “I canna lie, Janet,” I confessed raggedly. “I want it—a life… love… I want it all fer the first time since he died—fer the first time ever. And I want it with her.” I dragged a hand through my hair.

  “So go after her,” she instructed. “I’m here with Claire.”

  My hands gripped my hips. “I can’t let anything jeopardize me bein’ able ta be here fer Claire. Not right now. Maybe once the treatment is over—”

  “Garret, you know Kacey will be gone by then.”

  My head ducked. “Then that’s one more guilt I’ll hafta bear.”

  “And if it’s one more loss you have to live with?”

  My chest tightened just as a loud slam caused my head to whip around to see Claire shut the door to her room. She’d gone in there upset after talking to Kacey, but I didn’t realize she’d been listening to my and her mother’s conversation.

  “Is anyone not mad at me?” I growled.

  Janet put her hand on my arm as I forced air back into my lungs and shook my head. “Well, I can’t say you haven’t shown us how to do that well.”

  My expression soured as she gave me a sad smile and then walked over to the nurses’ station, leaving me to sort out what had my niece so upset.

  “Claire?” I cautiously opened the door and paused in shock to see her stuffing her teddy bear and markers into a hospital bag. “What are ye doin’?”

  “I want to leave.” She glared at me, her face streaked with tears.

  “What?” I gaped blankly. “What do ye mean ‘leave?’”

  “I want to leave the hospital right now, Uncle G,” she insisted, her voice wobbling as she began to tug at her various wristbands, trying to rip them off. “Right. Now.”

  “Claire, what the hell—ye canna leave.” I ran over to her and grabbed her hands, stopping her. “Ye have ta get better first.”

  Big fat tears clogged the corners of her eyes. “I don’t want to get better.” Her head shook. “I want to leave.”

  “What?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

  She was always hopeful. Always optimistic. Always dreaming.

  “What are ye sayin’? What do ye mean ye don’t want ta get better?” I rasped, watching as the tears began to fall. “Why are ye sayin’ this, Bear?”

  I crouched down in front of her, reaching out and wiping the wetness from her face

  “I heard you,” she yelled and pulled away. “I heard you tell my mom that you can’t go after Kacey because I’m here. I heard you tell her you love Kacey but you’ll give her up because of me.”

  “Right.” I sighed, regretting the whole damned conversation now. “I’m not sayin’ I’m givin’ up. I just have to wait is all…wait until you’re better.”

  “Uncle G, I don’t want to get better.” Her head shook unsteadily. “I don’t want to survive if it means ruining your dreams.”

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  It felt like someone took a jackhammer to my heart, shattering it violently to hear a seven-year-old so determined to sacrifice herself for me—because of me.

  “Yer not ruinin’ my dreams, Bear. You gettin’ better is my dream.”

  “I don’t want to get better if it means you have to be sad forever.” She pulled her hands away and began ripping at the bands again.

  My head dropped into my hands, feeling like a failure all over again.

  “That’s not what I meant, Bear.” I bit my cheek to stop the string of curses—all directed at myself—from slipping out. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

  She paused. “Then what did you mean?” Christ. I dinna even know what the hell I meant. “Why can’t you be happy, Uncle G?”

  I buried my head in my hands. “Because I’m afraid, Claire. I’m afraid I can’t be happy.”

  My breath caught when I felt small warm fingers reach under mine and peel them back away from my face.

  “Because of my dad?”

  “Because of myself.” Danny was just the tip of the iceberg.

  “It’s okay to be scared,” her tiny voice told me. “Kacey says that’s how you know you’re fighting for what you want.”

  I groaned as my heart continued to simultaneously swell and fracture. “She’s verra smart.”

  “Do you love her?” Wide eyes blinked innocently at me.

  “I do.” No point in lying. Not now. Not to her.

  “Then you have to go make her stop crying,” she insisted.

  “Bear, I can’t just—”

  “Uncle G!” I flinched as she yelled to stop me, and then she gripped my shoulders and tried to shake me—a notion that would’ve been comical given her size and mine except for the serious expression on her face when she said, “This is where the rubber meets the road.”

  Air rushed out in a shocked exhale. “What?”

  When did she learn that?

  “This is it, Uncle G. The spot where you can’t let anything come between the rubber and the road,” she huffed and rolled her eyes. “Between you and what you love. And since you just said you loved Kacey, this is the part where nothing can stop you. Not me. Not being afraid. Not thinking you can’t be happy.”

  I groaned, not needing to even wonder who she’d learned this from. “It’s no’ that simple.”

  But when I met her gaze—one so similar to mine, and even more to Danny’s—I was afraid it was that simple.

  Her hands dropped to her sides and she stood straight in front of me. Weary, sad, and drained and so unlike the spirit of the girl I knew lived inside her.

  “Uncle G, why should I fight to get better if you won’t fight to get better, too?”

  And for a moment, she was my mirror.

  She was me—worn ragged with guilt and willing to punish herself—to sacrifice herself—out of love when there was no need for sacrifice. When there was no need for the guilt I’d allowed to take over my life like my own version of cancer, eating away at all the things I still deserved to have—all the things Danny would want me to have.

  “I’m so sorry, Bear.”

  This time, it was her turn to reach out and rub away the tears on my cheeks.

  “Don’t be sorry,” she instructed as she wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me in for a hug. “Just apologize to Kacey.”

  I swallowed through the tight lock on my throat. “I will.” If she’d let me.

  Claire stepped back, her lips drawn tight for a second. “Maybe bring a cookie or two with you. You’ll probably need them.”

  A watery laugh bubbled from my chest. “I probably will.”

  “And a smile,” she added. “Don’t forget a smile.”

  “Got it.” I nodded with a brave face.

  It would take more than a smile and some sweets to unbreak Kacey’s heart. It would take hard truths and raw promises. It would take a plan. And groveling—a fuck load of groveling.

  But she was my cure.

  And I’d do whatever it took to keep her.

  Kacey

  CHARLOTTE HAD BEEN A HAVEN.

  And Indianapolis, the weeks leading up to the event, was a special circle of Hell.

  There, in that garage, with him, I thought I’d been focused on the race. On my dream. Instead, I’d been focused on me… and the parts of me he’d made me see.

  But here, I was back to the world I left. And for too many minutes out of the day, I wondered why I wanted to be a part of it so badly.

  After that afternoon at the hospital, I got in the cab and called Renner, told him I wanted to be on the first flight up to Indianapolis. Of course, the old man knew something had happened the way I heard him swear under his breath, but neither was he the type to ask to get involved. All he asked was if I was sure, and when I told him yes, he said there would be a ticket waiting for me at the airport. So, I packed what I could, texted Gwen an apology and a promise to reschedule dinner and drin
ks, and got on that airplane without giving myself a chance to think twice.

  And from the moment I arrived at the hotel in Indianapolis, the cameras were everywhere. Videographic vultures.

  What Renner had done in Charlotte hadn’t seemed to have much effect until I got here.

  Photos. Journalists. Reporters. Fans. Haters.

  They clamored to talk to me. To ask questions I couldn’t answer fast enough. Most, thankfully about this race and not Daytona, but even though the positive publicity should’ve made me happy—made me feel comforted that they saw my value, it only made me feel more alone.

  But then Puglisi arrived and the tone shifted. Taunts and jeers. The questions about weight and fairness—about if I should be allowed to race after being banned from the NASCAR series. All well-placed misogynistic missiles aimed at a steadfast shield.

  Still, I focused forward. I focused on the finish line.

  The car arrived five days ago—without him.

  Without Garret.

  Though I worried about Claire, I swore it was a good thing he hadn’t come yet. It meant more days—more time to re-center a focus that had strayed from the goal in front of me.

  “You alright, Ace?” Jack, one of the younger mechanics on our pit crew paused in front of the trailer and asked.

  “I’m good.” I nodded. “Just going to make a phone call.”

  He nodded and disappeared next door into the mobile garage setup where the car was. Renner had a handful of promising young guys hired and waiting when I arrived—all of them excited by the opportunity to work on Voigt’s team and to work with me. But, I caught a few glances, a few murmured comments… who they were really here for was Garret. To learn from the best. It might be their only chance.

  All week we’d gone through the battery of tests for the car. Two days with the car on a simulator. A day of minor adjustments. And finally, one day for on-track testing.

  It was rigorous and intense and, from what I could tell, the rest of Renner’s crew was smart and motivated and overall, excited for the opportunity to be part of his team. It was rare to find a team small enough that your name would be remembered but who carried an equal amount of prestige and previous victory along with it.

  I liked them. They respected me. They did good work.

  But they weren’t Garret.

  No, that man—the mechanic—was absent. Physically, yes, but it was the void in my chest that I realized he’d filled that hurt the most.

  I thought the days would make it easier. The absence would erase the stain he’d left on my heart.

  I thought by leaving sooner, I’d cross the finish line of how I felt about him and leave everything he couldn’t give me behind.

  Instead, my heart felt like it was in a race that would never end. Searching and searching. Pushing farther. Faster. Lap after lap with no end in sight.

  “Hey, Speedy,” my dad answered my call.

  I sank down and curled into the single chair wedged in the back of the mostly empty trailer, seeking comfort in his voice while the rest of the team got everything ready for qualifying.

  “Hey, Dad.” I closed my eyes and imagined his face.

  “You ready?”

  A small smile revolted against the sadness weighing on me. “Always.”

  He hummed, anticipating my answer.

  “What’s wrong?”

  My eyes popped open, looking out from the shadowed back of the trailer to the frenzy of people who passed in front of it, everyone buzzing back and forth to this tent or that, prepping for the first practice day before the race.

  “Nothing,” I lied, toying with the zipper on my fire suit. I only had it on up to my waist, leaving my arms exposed to keep me cool.

  “You’re a good racer, Speedy, but a bad liar,” he chided.

  I sighed.

  “Are they giving you trouble?” The steely, protective tone of his voice warmed me.

  “No,” I assured him, but added truthfully, “Nothing I can’t handle.”

  “Then what’s going on? Why do you sound lost?”

  A ball of emotion appeared in my throat that hadn’t been there a minute before.

  Lost.

  I blinked away tears.

  “What if I want something else?”

  “What do you mean? A different car? A different race?” His confusion was kind but clear.

  I swiped my tears away. “What if I want something other than racing?” My head shook. “How? How would that even be possible? Racing is my dream. And I’m here. And it was my dream…”

  “Speedy, you can have more than one thing that makes you happy.” He chuckled softly.

  I stayed silent, struggling to really believe him. All I’d wanted from the first moment I’d felt the rush of the race was to never let it go. To race cars. To win. To live life at two-hundred miles per hour.

  “You can have more than one dream, you know that, right?”

  “I can’t, Dad. I’m sorry. It’s probably just stress—”

  “How many times do you hit seven thousand RPMs, Kacey?” he asked, and I started because he rarely used my full name.

  “What?” I stood, seeing Renner in the distance looking for me.

  “Do you only hit it once in a race?”

  “No.” I slid one arm into my suit. “Almost every gear.”

  “Right,” he confirmed. “Happiness. Dreams. They aren’t a one-gear wonder. Racing… being on the track… isn’t the only time you’re going to find it. Maybe racing was just first gear, Speedy, and now you’re looking for second.”

  I swallowed through the tightness in my throat—in my chest.

  That was the problem. I couldn’t want Garret. I couldn’t shift into second.

  And I couldn’t survive forever driving in first.

  “Life isn’t a race, Kacey,” he went on.

  “I know.” I pulled my phone away from my face, seeing an incoming call from Gwen. “I have another call, Dad. Talk later?”

  “Of course. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.” I quickly switched over to answer Gwen’s call. “Hello?”

  “Hey, sorry I missed your call earlier. It was a busy morning,” she gushed, and I swore that only Gwen would be wearing a smile about a busy—and surely stressful—morning at the hospital.

  “It’s okay. I just wanted to see how Claire’s doing.” I sighed. “And you, too.”

  For the last two weeks, I bugged her every day about Claire’s condition. After the race on the floor… after I left… I couldn’t stop the sprout of worry that sprung from the seed of love planted in my chest for the fearless little girl.

  I didn’t want her to think it was her fault that I left.

  She chuckled. “It’s okay. I know I’m the low man on the totem pole compared to your number one fan.”

  “Sorry,” I replied sheepishly.

  “She’s doing good.” She paused. “Better. Much better.”

  “Better?” I sat up straight. “Was she doing worse? You didn’t say…”

  “No,” she quickly assured me. “She’s responding really well to the medications. I think she’ll be done with treatment within a few months, if not sooner. But she was upset for a little bit.”

  I could hear her indecision waver across the call, wondering how much she should say—how much I wanted to know.

  “Because I left?”

  “More than that, Kace… and she wasn’t the only one.”

  I sucked in a breath.

  “Which is also why I’m calling, I wanted to tell you—”

  “Hey, Ace! It’s time to go!”

  Jack’s yell tore my focus from Gwen. Whatever she wanted to tell me would have to wait until our practice laps were over.

  “I gotta go, Gwen. Sorry. I’ll call you later.” I didn’t feel bad hanging up the call—she’d done it to me a dozen times over the last few weeks while she was working or being called in to work.

  “Alright, Matt and I tightened up a few things wit
h the transmission. We shortened the ratio for fifth since it seemed to be a little too long comparatively, so you’ll get that last shift in before the flag,” Jack told me as I approached the car.

  “Got it.”

  This was nothing like the days at the track in Charlotte. There was a team of people following me, and another crowd around the car, Renner included. And then, there was everyone else at the track.

  The racing world had descended.

  “Get your position, girl. Remember, this isn’t the race.” Renner instructed as though I’d never gone through qualifying before.

  I just hadn’t gone through qualifying for Indy before.

  I stared at the older man, wordlessly wanting his eyes to meet mine—to prompt him to tell me why Garret wasn’t here.

  But he didn’t.

  Maybe Charlotte really was the end. Maybe Garret had built the engine and Renner decided his part of the deal was done.

  “Ready?”

  I nodded to Jack as he rounded the car.

  My chest felt tight even before I zipped up the front of my fire suit. I kept my eyes on the ground, unwilling to let anyone see the turmoil inside me.

  I’d imagined this moment so many times, and Garret had never been part of it.

  But now that I was living it, it felt wrong that he wasn’t here.

  Focus, Kacey.

  Pulling on my helmet and cinching the clasp, I dug my gloves out of my pocket and tugged them on.

  Reaching for the edge of the Aeroscreen for support, my other hand moved to grab the back edge of the seat but instead, ran into something equally as strong but much more alive.

  My head jerked up, my gasp echoing inside my helmet.

  Garret.

  My hand tightened, instinctively needing to feel his mirrored response and prove I wasn’t imagining him.

  “Kacey.”

  Nope. Definitely not imagined.

  There was no way to imagine that voice and the things it did to my body.

  Nor the way seeing him again ripped open the raw wound he’d left in my chest.

  My head tipped in a barely distinguishable nod; it wasn’t even a nod as much as it was my only chance to look away.