Grip: A Driven World Novel (The Driven World)

by Lacey Black

  “Everything okay?” I whisper when he’s within earshot.

  He nods, but keeps his eyes cast downward on Oliver. Mack bends down and kisses his forehead, squeezing my side the way he seems to do after these last few races. Carefully, he removes the headphones from the baby’s ears. When he finally has nothing else to distract him, he gazes my way and exhales loudly.

  “That fucker tried to put me into the wall,” he whispers, only loud enough for me to hear.

  “Are you sure? It didn’t look intentional, Mack. It looked like your tires just slightly rubbed when he was trying to pass you,” I reply gently, trying not to poke the bear.

  He huffs. “Yeah, I’m sure. Daniels is too good of a driver to accidentally rub my tires as he passed. We had plenty of room on that corner, and I was holding my line. He intentionally moved up.”

  “So what happened over there?” I ask, nodding in the direction of where they went to have a discussion with the series points leader.

  “Fucker denied it. Said I came down at him because he was passing me.”

  I place my hand on his chest, the rapid beat of his heart thumping angrily beneath my palm. “And we both know you’d never do that.”

  His gaze locks with mine. “No, I wouldn’t. As angry as I get on the track, I’d never intentionally try to wreck someone. Even Aric Daniels.” As he says the driver’s name, he pulls a face, as if he tasted something vile.

  “I figured as much,” I reassure.

  “Let’s go, Cruz!” Chief hollers as they wheel the car away and to the hauler.

  “Walk with me?” he asks, reaching out his hand.

  I shouldn’t take it, not with so many cameras and press lingering. They’re still jonesing for any detail they can scrape up regarding Mack’s private life, especially Oliver. And me, well, I’m a new development that arrived at the same time as the baby, so they’re all dying to grab anything they can where I’m concerned. They ran photo after photo following the charity gala, and seeing us together at the track, holding hands nonetheless, would be like finding gold.

  Yet, even with that major reason in opposition, I still place my hand inside his, reveling in the feel of his skin wrapped around mine. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  The ride home is silent, the hum of the tires on the road the only sound. Yet, the noise inside my head is so loud, I swear everyone in a three-mile radius can hear it. I’m lying beside Mack, who’s passed out from the exhaustion of the day. Oliver’s in the playpen at the foot of the bed, sawing logs himself.

  Yet I’m wide awake unable to relax.

  I’m still all over the place, my brain and heart battling. The only thing I know is I must take a step forward. For my own sanity, I must do what’s best for me, first and foremost. I did that before, when Mack left. I did it again ten months ago when I didn’t marry Perry Masterson.

  I still feel guilty where he’s concerned. Mostly because I tried to force our relationship, even when I didn’t really feel that…spark. I loved him, don’t get me wrong, but it was different. Comfortable. Safe. There was nothing reckless or wild about any part of Perry. In fact, he was as polar opposite of Mack than humanly possible, and I think that’s what attracted me to him. He was kind and sweet. We made love in a bed, always with the lights off. There was no spontaneity, no passion.

  And that’s why I couldn’t go through with it.

  I knew if I married Perry, I would be settling because he wasn’t the one for me. At the time, I didn’t know who that someone really was. I had lost the one person I truly believed was my forever, and Perry was there, with his safe job and his trustworthy smile. He really is a great guy, and I hope he finds the one he’s meant to be with.

  I just wasn’t that girl.

  I’m pretty sure my dad was relieved when I told him I wasn’t going to marry Perry. He seemed to relax, let go of a tension I didn’t even realize he was harboring in his shoulders and on his chest. He had just sat me down and said, “Lena, sweetheart, don’t be afraid to go after what you want. Life is too short to settle for something that truly doesn’t make you happy.”

  As I glance at Mack in the soft light filtering in from the main living space, I’m torn once more between going after what I want and settling. What if I’m only comfortable with Mack now because we have a history? What if the reason we’re so in sync is because he’s known me longer than any other human presently in my life, my dad excluded?

  Of course we’re comfortable.

  We used to love each other.

  I’m not sure I can figure out what to do with my life while I’m here, and yes, the thought of packing up and leaving Mack and Oliver behind makes me want to cry, but if I stay, I could be cutting us both short. I want the best for them, even if that’s not me.

  So why do I feel as if my soul is being removed from my body and chopped into pieces with an axe?

  I know what I have to do.

  Reaching for my phone, I look up that agency I had found my first few days in Los Angeles. They come highly recommended in multiple forums and promise to find the right caring individual for anyone’s needs. Without scanning through the dozens of profiles posted, I go right to their inquiry page. With a deep breath, I fill in my contact information, requesting interviews within the next week. My heart pounds and tears prickle my eyes as my finger hovers over the submit button.

  I know this is the right step.

  So I click submit.

  I shove my phone beneath the pillow and curl onto my side. The moment I’m settled, Mack is there, his arms wrapping around me as he brings me to his warm chest. The action makes the tears fall even harder.

  How will I let him go?

  I don’t know.

  I just know I have to.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mack

  She’s different.

  I can feel her pulling away.

  It started on the way home from Portland Sunday night and has continued all week. By Friday, I can barely take it anymore. The moment I get home from today’s team meeting, I’m going to sit her down and try to figure out what’s going on. Even if it’s to tell me she’s out of here in ten days and doesn’t want to blur the lines between us any longer, at least that’s something. It’s just so damn hard to read her lately.

  “Still on for Sunday?” Fish asks at the end of the meeting.

  “Yep. Come over any time after one. We’ll get that car of yours running before the end of day,” I tell my best friend, grateful we’d been planning this afternoon in the garage for a few weeks. It’ll hopefully help me get my mind off the one woman who drives me absolutely insane.

  In a good way.

  “Lena gonna be there?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

  I go ahead and throw a punch to his stomach. Not hard, but with enough force for him to feel for a bit.

  “Damn, why’d you do that?” he huffs, bent over and sucking in oxygen. The few guys still milling around the conference room laugh.

  “Serves you right.”

  “I didn’t even say anything about her wanting my body!” Fish bellows before covering his nose before my fist meets it. “Okay, okay, Jesus. Stop being all sensitive and shit. Damn,” he grumbles, standing up straight and keeping just out of arm’s reach.

  If anyone knows how to get a rise out of me, it’s Fish. He’s practically mastered it in our short three years of friendship. Three years, but it feels like forever. He’s the one I leaned and counted on when I moved here and lost Lena.

  When everyone leaves the room, after a few side-eyes to make sure I wasn’t about to fight my friend, I lean back against the chair. “Big plans tonight?”

  He stands up straight and mirrors my relaxed stance. “Chinese food and that Michael Jordan documentary.”

  “I hear it’s good,” I add.

  “I’d invite you to come over and watch it with me, but you’ll be balls deep in Lena before I even get my sweet and sour chicken open.”

  I s
nort at my friend. “Probably not.”

  He gives me a look, reading me like an open book. “Trouble in paradise?”

  I exhale and run my hand through my hair. “I’m not sure, man.” Then I swallow over the thickness in my throat and add, “She’s leaving in ten days.” The words make me want to vomit.

  “Don’t let her leave, dude.”

  Exasperated, I reply, “I can’t exactly force her to stay, Fish.”

  His eyes brighten with something I know I’m not going to like. “Well, you could. I bet she’d look fucking amazing tied to your—”

  I launch myself at him before he can even finish the sentence. Fish might be taller than me, but I have him in strength and flexibility. That’s why it’s easy for me to catch him off guard and knock his ass to the floor.

  Fish gets me in a headlock as I twist him around like a pretzel. “Dammit!” he hollers, trying to fight against me, but failing.

  “Stop saying stupid stuff and you won’t get your ass kicked,” I warn, no real bite in my words.

  “Stop being so dramatic and go get your girl, Cruz,” he huffs.

  Suddenly, we both just stop and flop back on the floor, breathing hard. “You’re getting soft in your old age,” I tease, my hand instinctively going to protect my groin.

  “Fuck you, man. I’m a lean, mean, chick magnet machine.”

  I roll to the side and look at my friend. “Like chickens? Fish, what did I say about trying to hump barnyard animals?”

  Suddenly, he leaps at me, and we’re back at it again. This time, there’s more laughter than grunts as we mess around in the empty conference room. After a few minutes, I sit up and rest my hands on my knees. “In all honesty, I want her to stay more than anything, but I can’t force it. If she wants to go, I’ll let her.”

  He exhales hard, his eyes watching me. “I hear ya. I just wish you guys could figure it out, you know? You’re a better man when she’s near.” His words are barely above a whisper, and he gives me a small smile.

  “I think so too.”

  Fish reaches over and slaps me hard on the back. “Let’s get out of here. I’ve got a hot date with Chinese takeout,” he says as he jumps up.

  He extends his hand to help me up, only to let me drop back the moment my weight was shifted. “Sucker!” he hollers as he turns and leaves the room, me sprawled out on the floor once more. The last thing I hear is my best friend’s laughter as he exits the building.

  ***

  There’s an unusual car in my driveway when I get home. It’s an older model Buick, big and fancy like old people drive. When I get out of my truck, I notice it has California plates, yet isn’t someone I recognize in the neighborhood.

  An uneasy feeling slides down my spine as I approach the front door, and I find myself moving a little faster. The front door is open, so I pull on the screen door and step inside my living room. Lena is on the couch, holding Oliver, with an older woman sitting in the rocker recliner. “Oh, Mack!” Lena says, carefully jumping up.

  “Hey, everything okay?” I ask hesitantly, my eyes going from Lena to the woman. She’s well dressed in a blue pantsuit with a white ruffle top. Her hair is gray and cut in a no-nonsense bob at her ears, and she’s wearing subtle, yet professional makeup.

  “Yes, yes, everything’s fine,” Lena quickly replies. “Mack, I’d like you to meet Mrs. Estelle Pearson. She was sent from the nanny service that was recommended to me,” she adds with a smile that appears slightly forced.

  My breath catches in my throat as I take in her words. Nanny service? My heart thumps a hard beat in my chest as realization sets in. She’s really leaving. Lena’s interviewing her replacement.

  I force a quick smile on my lips and turn to face the older woman. “Good afternoon. Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Pearson.”

  “Pleasure, Mr. Cruz,” she replies, but doesn’t sit back down.

  I glance at Lena as she says, “We were actually just wrapping up the interview. Mrs. Pearson would be an amazing asset to you, but she’s not a fan of traveling in a motorhome for several days at a time.”

  Mrs. Pearson tsks. “Very true, dear. Maybe when I was younger, but not at my age. I’m sure the agency will pair you with the perfect nanny to care for your sweet little boy,” she says, stroking Oliver’s cheek before bidding us farewell and heading out the front door.

  The moment her car pulls out of the driveway, I’m met with silence. Oliver makes a noise, which pulls me out of the weird funk I’m in. It’s a place of sadness and bitterness all rolled into one. So I push that aside and reach for my son. “Hey, little man,” I say, as I place a kiss to his chubby cheek. I keep my eyes on Oliver.

  “So,” Lena starts, rocking back on her heels and trying to break the awkward silence. “I had three interviews today.”

  When I look at her, it fucking hurts. Bad. She’s so damn beautiful, and she’s leaving. This time, it’s not me walking away. It’s her. Even though I’ve known all along it was probably coming to this, a part of me kept hoping, kept wishing, she’d change her mind and stay. Today just proves anything more isn’t meant to be.

  And that fucking sucks.

  I clear my throat. “That’s good.”

  She wrings her hands together nervously. “Well, I did like one of the ladies. She’s married, but her husband would be okay with her doing some minor traveling. One girl looked twelve years old, even though her résumé said she was nineteen, and then you just met Mrs. Pearson. There’s one more coming Monday morning. She already had an appointment today.”

  I nod in reply. “I think I’m going to take Oliver upstairs and get his diaper changed and ready for some dinner.” I don’t make eye contact as I walk away, heading up the stairs and leaving her behind in the living room.

  It’s symbolic, isn’t it? I left her behind before and now she’s doing the exact same thing to me. Only this time, she’s not just walking away from me, but Oliver too.

  ***

  I’m able to keep to myself much of the night. Lena senses the distance and goes for a long walk while I feed and bathe Oliver before bedtime. When his eyes grow too tired to stay open any longer, I carry him up to my room and place him in the bassinet. Soon, I’m going to have to transfer him to his crib, but not tonight. Tonight, I just kiss him on the forehead, waiting a few seconds for him to settle into sleep, and head out of the room, grabbing the monitor as I go.

  Back downstairs, I head straight through the kitchen and out the back door. The night air is warm, the breeze nonexistent. In fact, after only a few seconds, I can feel my shirt stick to my back. I head over to our pop-up pool and slip my hand in the water. It’s warm, yet cools my skin. Next thing I know, I’m stripping out of my clothes, down to my boxer briefs, tossing the monitor on my shirt, and climbing the plastic ladder to get inside.

  A chill spreads through my body as the water envelops me, but it quickly passes. I float in the four-foot pool and wonder why I hadn’t gotten one of these sooner. Sure, this is just one of those cheap ones you can buy from a big box store, but I can definitely see myself getting a bigger, nicer one in the future. Of course, I’ll have to build a deck with a latch to keep little legs from climbing up and falling in, but that’s not necessary this summer.

  A noise catches my attention, but it’s not coming from the baby monitor. I look toward the house to find Lena standing back, watching me. “Hey,” she says softly, taking a few tentative steps in my direction.

  “Hey.”

  She steps up to the pool and slips her hand in, moving it from side to side in the water. “The water feels nice.”

  I can see the glisten of sweat on her forehead from her walk, and even though I’m not sure having her in the pool with me is a good idea right now—mostly because I might not be able to stop myself from touching her—I find myself still offering. “It feels pretty good. You should come in.” I hope my words come out as casual as I intend.

  She smiles. “I don’t have my suit out here.”

  I
shrug, treading water as I move toward her. “Neither do I.”

  Her eyes widen as she looks down. I’m sure she can see my red boxer briefs through the clear water, so at least she knows I’m not naked. “Ummm,” she starts, glancing down at her tank top and shorts.

  “You wearing a bra and panties under that?” I ask, unable to hide my smirk.

  She meets my eyes and says, “Of course I am. Have you ever tried power walking without them?”

  I chuckle. “Can’t say I’ve ever walked—power or otherwise—in a bra and panties, Lean.” I offer her a shrug and start to move back to the opposite side of the small pool. “I’ve seen it all before and it covers as much as that bikini you call a bathing suit.” Images of her in that pink and black bikini kept me company in practically every shower I’ve taken since she wore it earlier in the week.

  Green eyes just stare at me as she decides what she’s going to do. Sure, she can run inside, slip on her suit, and be back here in a matter of minutes. Or she can strip off that top and shorts and join me now. The choice is hers.

  It only takes a few long seconds before she reaches down and grabs the hem of her tank top. My breath hitches as she pulls it up and over her head, tossing it onto the ground at her feet. She toes off her shoes and removes her ankle socks before slipping her shorts down her long, toned legs. My cock is already hard, and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

  Lena still hasn’t met my eyes as she climbs the plastic ladder and steps over the side of the pool. The view of her in a sports bra and cotton underwear is just as hard-on inducing as that tiny bra and panty set from the night of the gala. She looks incredible in anything she wears, and this is no exception.

  She drops beneath the water up to her shoulders. “Wow, it’s a little chilly.”

  “It passes quickly,” I tell her, leaning back and floating with my arms out.