Physis (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #4)

by Michelle Irwin

  “Are ya sure? I can take ya home if ya want.”

  “I’d rather watch a rematch between you and Dad when you’re not distracted.”

  “What—” Beau silenced himself when I raised a brow.

  “You’re not going to try to tell me that my spinning off didn’t distract you, are you?”

  He looked sheepish. “Maybe a li’l.”

  I lifted my hand to his cheek. “Because you were too busy paying attention to me, and not to the track.”

  “Because you’re more important than any race.”

  For a moment, I was lost in his eyes and his sweet words. How had I ever thought he could be intentionally cruel or anything but the good ol’ fashioned southern boy he was?

  “What do you say, old man?” I challenged Dad, forcing a bravado I didn’t feel into my voice. “Do you think you’re up for a rematch with the other important man in my life?”

  Despite the seriousness he’d affected since seeing me panic, Beau beamed at my words.

  “I’m up for it if he is,” Dad said, rubbing his hands together. Being back on the track was always an excitement for Dad. His passion had never been doused.

  It didn’t take long for the two of them to get back out on the track. I’d thought Beau was going to argue with me for a while, but he must have realised that I needed to overcome the demons at my own pace—and if that meant something as simple as not retreating at every flashback, then that was what he needed to help me do. Him and Dad racing would give me something else to focus on without worrying that I might break my neck if I tried to race again.

  While Mum and Nikki went to watch Brock, Beth, and Parker on the other track again, Angel and I found a good position to spectate the race between Beau and Dad.

  “Are you okay?” Angel asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  Usually, it would’ve been the sort of question that would’ve made me push her away, but I couldn’t. With my promise to try to let her in more burning in my mind, I rested my head on her shoulder. “I see two of them. All of the time.” It wasn’t quite enough of an explanation about the memory rushing through me—the aftermath of agreeing to Bee’s terrible demands and the way Xavier had responded when he’d found out.

  She wrapped her arm around my shoulders. “I’ve never seen you not want to be involved in a race before. It’s a little weird.”

  I shrugged and drew one leg in to my chest. While I spoke, I picked at my shoelace so I didn’t have to focus on her. “Weird is all I have now. We should consider it a good day because I haven’t gone running and screaming in the opposite direction.”

  “So what really happened out there?” she asked, nodding toward the track.

  I sighed as I thought about the way I’d lost control. How could I ever climb behind the wheel of a car in race conditions again? “Memories.”

  “If you ever want to share them, you know I’m here for you, right?”

  “I know, but I can’t. They’re not memories I want anyone else to have to deal with.”

  “The offer’s always there.”

  I rested my hand on her thigh as I watched Dad and Beau whip around the track, neck and neck. “I know, my angel, I know.”

  “DAD, CAN WE talk?” I stood in the doorway to Mum’s study, where he was working for the day. The further Mum progressed through her pregnancy, the more excuses he found to stay home from the office. It was the way he’d been through all of her pregnancies, but this one was worse. I think the thing with Nikki had terrified him, and then with everything that happened to me on top, he couldn’t cope. Working from home also meant he was free to babysit Nikki while Mum took me to my appointment, so she didn’t have to juggle her growing belly and my baby sister at the same time.

  “What’s up?”

  I leant against the doorframe and stared at my feet, knowing what I was going to ask was selfish, but needing to ask it anyway. “I’ve been thinking about the car.”

  “Okay, and?”

  “I want to do it. I want back on the team.”

  His face lit up. It was the reaction I’d been dreading because I was going to break his heart with my next statement.

  “But I don’t think I can. Not yet.”

  “Oh.”

  I chewed on my lip. “If I could have another year, then I might be able to do it. I’m just not ready yet.”

  He turned thoughtful. “It’s going to be difficult to get anyone who’s willing to commit when it’s only a one-year thing.” His hand rose to signal I shouldn’t say anything yet. “Not that it’s impossible, just a little more difficult. I think Coombes and Bentley will both be out; they’re looking at long-term contracts. Coombes needs at least three years. Bentley wants five.”

  The fact he knew that told me he’d at least tentatively been in negotiations with them. Did he have that little confidence in me? Then again, had I given him any reason to have faith?

  “Do you think you’d be ready to jump behind the wheel for the enduros?” he asked. “No pressure, of course, but it might be a way to ease back into the car.”

  “I—I don’t know.”

  “What’s the thing that worries you most?”

  “Crashing the car into a wall because of some memory hitting at the worst possible time. Being in a crowd. Embarrassing the team with a freakout.” I counted the reasons out on my hands, touching my ring finger on my left hand as I said, “Being caught alone and someone . . .” I trailed off as my fears gripped hold of my vocal cords and pricked at my tear ducts.

  It shouldn’t have been a fear—I wasn’t grabbed from behind by some faceless villain—and yet it was. I’d barely braved being out in public, but whenever I had, I examined every face, wondering if it would belong to the next Xavier. The next Bee.

  “What about if we put a media embargo on you? The officials probably won’t like it, but they can go jump in a fucking lake.”

  “What about the sponsors?”

  “I think most of them will be on board with having you in the car even without the press time.”

  “And the rest?”

  He rounded Mum’s desk and sat on the edge. “We’ll donate the space to the White Ribbon Foundation.”

  “I guess I might be able to do it. Would you hate me if I tried for Sandown and then backed out before Bathurst if I couldn’t cope?”

  His brow dipped and he reached out his hand, inviting me to close the distance between us.

  I pushed off the doorframe and stepped into his waiting embrace. He rested his arm loosely on my waist and met my gaze.

  “Baby girl, I could never hate you. I could never be disappointed in you. No matter what happens.”

  “Will Beau and Angel be able to come too? It’ll be easier if I can have them in the pits with me.”

  Dad screwed his mouth up, and for a second I thought he was going to say no. My lip quivered as I considered what I would do if they weren’t with me.

  Then he laughed. “Of course, I assumed they were part of the package deal anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Can I ask you a question in return?”

  I nodded. “Of course.”

  “Has Beau talked to you about his plans once his visa expires?”

  The question wasn’t one I’d anticipated, and it was something Beau and I had avoided discussing for the most part. Had he spoken with Dad about it? If so, why? Was he lining up my support network for when he had to leave in December? “No. He said he wants to find a way to stay, but it looks a little hopeless.”

  “Have you considered marriage?” Dad looked like he’d swallowed an echidna as he said the word, but that was nothing compared to the spikes that struck my heart as he spoke.

  “No!” I staggered backwards, wrapping my arms around myself. Marriage was the trap Xavier had wanted to use to tie me to him. He’d wanted me bound and obedient. Even though I knew Beau was different, I couldn’t shake the negative feeling that raced through me at the thought of that sort of
permanent tie.

  Dad raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, it’s off the table. It’s just . . . he cares for you. A lot. I didn’t think I’d ever find anyone who I thought was worthy of my Pheebs, but he’s proven himself to be the best man for you.”

  I pressed my lips together to stop myself from crying at Dad’s words. They were true, I knew it with every fibre of my being. There would never be anyone better for me than Beau. No one who could unravel every layer and see straight into my core—no matter how complex or dark those layers became. My trust in him was earned through the toughest of trials, and I couldn’t see how it could be severed—other than by distance.

  “And I don’t want to see him leave,” Dad added.

  “Neither do I,” I breathed. “I want, no I need, him to say. I just don’t know how to make it happen.”

  “Would you like me to see if I can get a good recommendation for an immigration lawyer?”

  “Could you?” Would Beau be okay with getting Dad’s help? And did he actually even want to stay if we could make it work? He’d said he did but was that false bravado because he knew it was impossible?

  “If you’re happy for me to step in and help, I’ll talk to Beau. We’ll work something out. In the meantime, I’ve got one more available slot for some track time in the ProV8 two weeks before the first enduro at Sandown. You want it?”

  I gave a reluctant nod. It wasn’t far away—a little over three weeks—but if I was going to be getting behind the wheel again professionally, I needed to get behind the wheel again, full stop. “Can—”

  Dad cut me off with a laugh before I could even get my question out. “Of course they can. But they’ll have to come to the office to do a safety induction first.”

  Stepping forward, I kissed his cheek. “Thanks, Daddy.”

  BEAU WAS waiting when I got home from my appointment with Dr Bradshaw that I’d had after my meeting with Dad. It wasn’t a surprise that he’d come around. I’d texted him on my way to ask him over sooner than usual. What did come as something of a surprise was that he was not only already in the house, but in Mum’s office with Dad.

  I approached the door cautiously.

  “Frankly, I don’t give a shit about pride. I don’t give a shit about anything but her.” Dad’s voice wasn’t raised or angry so much as forceful. “I don’t fucking beg for anything, but I’ll beg for this if I have to. I—I can’t bear to see her in so much fucking pain again.”

  “I understand, sir—uh, Declan.”

  I waited outside the door, hovering out of sight but close enough that I could hear the conversation between Dad and Beau.

  “So you’ll consider it.”

  “The way I figure it, there ain’t much to consider. I ain’t gonna let her go.”

  The words, intended to be sweet, were enough to take me back.

  “Phoebe! What’s wrong with you?” Xavier’s hand crashed across my cheek when I didn’t respond. “If this is a ploy to try to get free, it’s not going to work. I’m not going to let you go until you’ve fallen in love with me like you’re supposed to.”

  Even though Xavier was right in front of me, I looked through him. Even Xavier’s most violent shaking wouldn’t rouse me.

  After another slap, he moved to kneel on the floor. One hand threaded through my hair, clutching so tight it felt like my hair would simply tear from the follicles. The other curled beneath the thin pillow I’d been given, curling it upward against my nose, pressing harder and harder.

  Instead of making me fight like he no doubt hoped, I closed my eyes and held my breath—happy to speed the process along. I didn’t want to live with the pain. So much of it. Too much for one human body to take—especially one that no longer knew how many days she’d been trapped in a hellhole.

  When his suffocation threat didn’t do the trick, Xavier twisted the pillow away and yanked my face closer to his.

  “Talk to me.”

  I didn’t have anything to say, and yet I spoke. “Bee. He—he took photos.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  My answer was lost in a fresh flood of tears as the images in my brain coated another layer of filth over my body. More scars that would never wash off.

  “Dawson? How long have you been out here?” Beau knelt in front of me, concern lining his features. “Are you okay?”

  “He took photos,” I murmured, still half in the past.

  Beau swallowed heavily and hung his head. “I know.”

  My gaze snapped to his as my entire focus was returned to the present. There was only one way I could think of that he might have known. “Y-you saw them?”

  The agony behind his amber and chocolate eyes was enough to answer my question.

  How could he have seen those images and not have them burned into his vision every time he looked at me? “Why didn’t you say?”

  “How could I say anything?” His lips screwed up into a ball and a range of emotions flitted over his face. It became clear they were burned, or at least they had been. Was that something he’d spoken to Dr Bradshaw about? As the information settled into place around me, it answered one question that had confused me for so long—how he could be so damn patient with me when it came to sex. He could because he’d witnessed what I’d suffered. Didn’t want to force me to relive it with him. “What could I have said?”

  I couldn’t respond. There wasn’t any way he could have raised the issue with me in a way I would’ve listened without freaking out. “He . . . made me look at them,” I whispered. “After he’d taken them. He put them on the bed and made me look at them.” As if experiencing the torment wasn’t enough, I had to relive it through the images almost instantly.

  Beau’s gaze dropped to the floor.

  “I hate him. I hate all of them.”

  “Do-do you know what happened before we found ya?”

  I shook my head. “Two days before . . . I . . . That’s . . .” I growled at myself and swallowed again. I needed to get it out, but the words wouldn’t come. “That’s when he took the photos. When I gave up fighting and didn’t let anyone else get hurt.”

  Beau’s eyes closed and he pressed his lips together. Was he imagining how things might’ve been different if they’d come a few days earlier?

  “Fuck.” It was one of the few times he’d used a major swear word in front of me and the partly growled word was thick with his southern drawl.

  “Xavier came home and wanted . . . wanted to know—I couldn’t talk, you see? I couldn’t move. He tried to make me.” I swallowed down, but it wasn’t enough to shake the lump in my throat. “Made me . . . Th-they fought. They yelled at each other and then he hit me. He wanted to know why. Why I was stuck in here.” I touched my temple. The words falling from my mouth were a jumble, but they had to be enough. I wouldn’t be able to get through the story again.

  Curling my legs up into my chest, I pressed my hands against my temples and squeezed my eyes closed.

  “Dawson, you’re home. You’re with your family.”

  I tried to use Beau’s words to cement me in the present, but the call of the past was too strong. Just like it had the days after Bee’s attack, every inch of my skin writhed and crawled with the memory of his touch. “I told him about the photos. He was going to look and tell his mum. Maybe he found them. Wh-when I saw him again, h-he said he was going to take me with him. He was going to make me his.” One hand moved to clutch my shirt where it rested over the scar. Xavier’s rudimentary lettering, a claim over me for life. “And I killed him.”

  My breath was choppy as I tried to force myself harder against the wall. Out of reach of Beau’s comfort. I didn’t deserve it.

  Beau’s eyes were soft, there wasn’t an ounce of judgement in them despite my admission.

  “I killed him, Beau.” A sob left me. Then another.

  The instant I wrapped my arms around Beau’s neck, he held me in return, clearly making an effort to keep his hands on safe areas, one wrapped around my sh
oulders, the other loosely around my waist.

  “Ya didn’t have a choice.”

  “I did. I could’ve let him—”

  “What?” The word was almost silent as it crossed Beau’s lips.

  “Let him do what he wanted to.”

  “No!” Beau’s voice, while still a whisper, seemed to boom in my ears. “That wouldn’ta been an option.”

  “It would’ve been easier for everyone,” I said, admitting a fear that had been stirred up in me anew with Dad’s words of concern.

  “No one wants easy if it means they don’t have you. Not your folks. Not Angel. And definitely not me.” Drawing me closer, he held me tightly. It was as if he thought I’d dematerialise if he loosened his arms even a little.

  Knowing there were no more words that could fix the broken things in me, and that I’d already tortured Beau enough with my memories, I didn’t argue any further. Instead, I relaxed into his arms until Dad came out of the study and almost tripped over us.

  “Shit. Sorry, I didn’t expect you to be there.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Beau said, practically leaping to his feet. As if the fact he was in the house, sleeping in my bed most nights, wasn’t proof enough of Dad’s opinion of him.

  “What have I told you,” Dad said, in a mock warning.

  Beau nodded. “Sorry, Dec.”

  “That’s better. Now, are you two going to sit in the hallway all day? Not that I mind, but I need to know whether to watch for trip hazards.”

  “We were just movin’ on, weren’t we, darlin’?” Beau offered me his hand.

  “I don’t know; I could get comfortable here.” I pushed myself up before closing the distance between us and wrapping my arms around his waist to tuck myself under his arm. It always made him uncomfortable to show affection in front of Dad. I was certain it was born of a fear of a shotgun being dragged out from nowhere, despite Dad’s obvious fondness for him.

  It was too much fun teasing Beau. Having something new to focus on made shaking free of the hold of the flashbacks just a little easier. All of the doctor’s tools and mantras and shit were running through my head too, but none worked as well as that. At that moment, my good things were pretty good.