by Lacey Black
***
I don’t go home. After the plane lands and my dad picks me up, I have him take me to his house at the track. The plane ride was the longest of my life, filled with tears and questions I don’t have the answers to. I wasn’t able to think about anything but the look on his face and his final words.
Be happy.
That’s why I’m in my dark room at four in the morning instead of sleeping in the twin-sized bed in my old room. I can’t sleep, even though I’m exhausted. Every time I try, all I see is his eyes, the sadness and the pain. I feel it in my chest too.
I go through the process of developing film from the race before I went to Los Angeles. Most of the prints are on my digital camera, but I always take a few with my old Nikon too. Only, this time, there’s no joy. As I hang the prints on the line to dry, I don’t feel that satisfaction I usually feel as the images truly start to come to life.
I feel empty.
And alone.
I drop my tweezers and walk to the corner of the room. My back hits the wall and my legs finally give out, letting me slowly slide down the hardness. The tears come fast, and I don’t even try to stop them. I let the pain wrap around my chest and squeeze.
When I wake up mid-morning, I’m alone in my studio, having passed out on the couch from sheer exhaustion, surely not a single tear left in my body. How could there be? I’ve cried them all. I ignore the thought reminding me I could go back. I could make this right.
But I won’t.
This is where I belong, not in California.
I don’t want that life, right?
Doubt slips in and won’t let go, a horrible reminder of the love I left behind. He didn’t ask me to stay, but I know why. I understand it, and in a way, am more grateful for that than anything else. Because I know myself well enough to know I would have done it, and quite possibly been miserable the entire time.
He wouldn’t want that for me.
He’d hate himself for it.
But what if…
What if I wasn’t as miserable on the road as I thought I’d be?
I surely wasn’t when I was traveling with Oliver and Mack. Yet…there’s too much doubt. Too much worry.
That’s why I’m going to take this time for me, to really think about what I want in life. Maybe that’s this life, home in Brenton with my dad nearby and my trusty studio just a stone’s throw away. Safe. Secure.
Or maybe it’s somewhere else.
All I know is I can’t answer that now. I need coffee—lots and lots of caffeine—and a hot shower. I need to slip back into my routine and spend a little me-time, reflecting on what I need out of this life.
Then, and only then, can I be the person I’m meant to be.
And maybe with the person I’m meant to be with.
Chapter Twenty
Mack
I hate this. I hate being in my house because suddenly it feels cold and lifeless. Even when I do everything in my power to focus on Oliver and his needs, it’s incomplete. Sure, I’m one-hundred-percent vested in his care, but it’s like I’m hollow inside. In fact, it’s Oliver that actually keeps me moving forward, getting up and making sure he’s taken care of.
There’s a race on Saturday night. We’re off to Long Beach, and I’m not that excited for the trip. Sure, it’s a shorter one, but that also means we’re in the motorhome. Alison has been great, caring for Oliver while I’m at work, but I’m not really looking forward to the short trip with her at my side.
When I get home Thursday, Alison is standing in my kitchen, removing something that smells good from an Instant Pot. “Hey,” I greet politely as I step through the back door.
“Welcome home,” she beams, offering me a warm smile. “I hope you don’t mind, I brought my Instant Pot over and decided to cook you a meal. You’ve worked long hours all week, it’s the least I could do.”
I glance in the living room and find Oliver sound asleep in his swing. “You didn’t have to do that,” I tell her, offering a cordial grin.
“Pfft, of course I did! Pizza and Chinese delivery every night must be getting old,” she teases.
Alison isn’t my housekeeper, but I’m sure she hasn’t missed the empty cartons and boxes in the trash every morning when she arrives. “Well, thanks. You didn’t have to do that, but I do appreciate it. It smells amazing,” I tell her, my stomach growling.
“Pork ribs and baked potatoes,” she says brightly, setting a platter of food in the middle of the table. There’s a single place setting in the spot Lena used to occupy, but I don’t say anything. Alison didn’t know.
“Thank you.”
“Well, I’m going to get out of your hair. Oliver ate at four, so he should be good for a little bit. He’s only been asleep for about thirty minutes or so,” she says, grabbing her purse.
Guilt slides down my spine as I look at the delicious food she made for me. “Do you…would you like to join me? There’s plenty here,” I insist, even though I’d much rather eat alone. My parents didn’t instill much of anything in me, but I’ve picked up enough manners to know I should at least invite her to stay.
“Oh,” she replies, seeming surprised. “Umm, sure. If you don’t mind?” Her face is uncertain, and I know she’d leave if I changed my mind.
“No, please eat.”
She grabs a plate and fork and slides into the chair opposite me. “Did you have a good day?” she asks, helping herself to a baked potato.
“Not bad. Team workout and meeting this morning and some track time this afternoon.”
“I’ve never been a fan of racing,” she admits, apologetically.
I can’t help but chuckle. “It’s okay. You don’t have to be to do your job, right? You’re here for Oliver.” I don’t know why exactly I said that, but I don’t regret the words.
She nods. “Right.” Her face softens into a smile. “He’s such a good boy.”
I take in her professional appearance, her light makeup, and her pretty smile. She’s definitely a good-looking woman. Maybe in another time I would have jumped all over her, but the thought makes the few bites I’ve taken turn in my stomach. There’s only one woman for me, and Alison isn’t her.
“Can I ask you something?” she asks hesitantly.
I take a bite of my ribs. They’re seasoned to perfection. “Sure.”
“Lena mentioned in our interview about Oliver’s mom. She said she wasn’t in the picture anymore.” The statement is almost open-ended, like she’s leaving the door open for me to jump in.
I clear my throat and take a drink of water. “We weren’t together when Oliver was born, and then Renee passed away when he was about a month old.”
“Oh, wow, I’m so sorry. Even if you weren’t together, that must have been tough.”
“It wasn’t easy.” I recall those early days when I was learning how to care for a small baby, and how much Lena was involved in helping.
It’s silent for several long seconds before I feel her eyes on me. My breath catches in my throat as she asks, “And Lena?”
I focus on my plate and take a large gulp of water. The hollow hole where my heart usually beats aches as she says her name. I have no idea how to answer, nor do I really want to discuss Lena with Alison. She’s here for my son, period. “Is off-limits,” I finally reply. There’s a touch of bite in my tone, but I don’t apologize for it.
“Understood,” she replies quickly, concentrating on eating her food.
We eat in uncomfortable silence, and the moment my food is gone, I get up to start filling the dishwasher with dirty dishes. I can hear Alison moving about the kitchen, but I keep my attention in front of me. “You can leave the mess. I’ll get it cleaned up,” I offer.
“Yeah, I have somewhere to go. I can clean the Instant Pot tomorrow morning before we leave.”
“I’ll do it,” I tell her before turning around to face her. “See you in the morning?”
She gives me a warm grin. “I’ll be ready to go by seven.”
“Okay.”
“Bye, Mack,” she hollers before grabbing her purse and heading out the door.
I stand in the kitchen, listening as her car starts and drives away. Exhaling, I rest my palms on the counter and suck in a deep, cleansing breath. I have to get my head on straight before I go to Long Beach or Coop is liable to take me out of the car. He threatened it this afternoon. I was distracted all week, irritable at best, and even jumped all over Cookie for something that usually rolls off my back.
It’s time to do my job and put my focus into the race.
My team and my career depend on it.
Oliver hollers from the living room. I push off the counter and head to my son, welcoming the distraction. The dirty dishes can wait. The restless night impending. Right now, my boy needs me.
And I need him.
***
My qualifying was shitty, but at least I’m not in the very back of the pack. I’m starting mid-field, which is a blessing, considering how inconsistent my runs were.
The guys have fired up the grill and are throwing burgers and dogs on. I’m freshly showered, anxious to go out and have a beer and hopefully relax with my team. To be honest, I thought about just heading home. Long Beach is only a stone’s throw from Burbank, so it would be nothing to run home and be back here bright and early in the morning. Hell, I could have probably left Oliver at home and had Alison watch him there, but I just like having him here with me.
When I exit the motorhome, I find my team sitting around a picnic table. Fish is holding Oliver, who’s taking in his surroundings. Alison is chatting with Cookie and Pete. I shoot them a look, letting them know not to fuck around with my nanny, before heading over to where Coop sits at the table.
“Hey,” I greet, as I take an empty seat across from him.
“Hi,” he replies, setting his phone down on the table, a smile on his face. “Beth and the kids are coming to the race tomorrow.”
“Yeah? I can’t wait to introduce them to Oliver.” I take the Budweiser handed to me and pop the top.
“They’ve been talking about meeting him,” he says, showing me his phone and the photo of his family they must have just sent.
I smile at the device, my heart lurching in my chest. The photo shows a happy Beth, her arms wrapped around two young kids with big toothless grins. His family. His wife. I think of the woman I’m trying to forget and am having no luck in doing so. I think of the photo that could have potentially been sent to my phone. Lena, with Oliver on her lap, a blinding white smile on her plump lips.
I hand back the phone, my smile genuine. “You have a great family, Coop.”
He returns the grin and slides his phone back into his pocket. “That I do, Cruz.” He takes a drink and a deep breath. “You know, I need you to be one-hundred-percent ready for tomorrow night’s race because it’s your safety I worry about. I know this week hasn’t been easy for you, and I understand why, but as your boss, I need to know you’re in the right frame of mind to drive.”
“I’ll be fine, Coop. I promise.”
He gives me a pointed look but doesn’t say anything else. He reaches his beer bottle out, and I tap mine to his in a toast.
The rest of the dinner goes quickly, and I barely give my woman troubles a second thought. That is, until I’m putting Oliver down to bed and crawling under my own covers. I almost put him in with me, but that’s not a habit I want to start.
The moment my head hits the pillow, she’s there. When I close my eyes, I see the teenage girl with dirt on her face and a smile that made me instantly fall in love with her. I see the young woman and the tears streaming down her face as she tells me goodbye so I can chase my dreams. And I see the woman who’s holding my son in her arms and my heart in her hands. I’ve loved her for so long, I don’t even remember what it’s like to not love her.
I ignore my hard cock and listen to the noises that surround me. Someone laughs outside. The water groans through the shower on the opposite side of the wall, indicating Alison is still up. And Oliver softly snoozes mere feet away in his playpen. But all those sounds don’t distract me long enough. My mind returns to her.
My Lena.
As I drift off to sleep, it’s her smiling face that accompanies me.
***
Her hands wrap around my hard dick as she gazes up at me with lust-filled eyes. Her legs hitch up over my hips as her soft hands slide along my shaft. The friction makes my eyes cross. “Shit,” I mumble, my cock so ready to slide home.
Her green eyes are dilated, but even in the dark of my room, I can see them change. The color. It changes from green to a softer brown.
What the hell?
Suddenly, I realize it’s not Lena’s face I look down at, but…Alison’s.
“Fuck me,” she whispers, the lips all wrong.
I startle awake. It takes a few seconds to register the hand on my cock, slowly stroking me to release. I jump, my eyes meeting those soft brown ones. Hers are lustful, she bites her lips seductively. It takes all of half a second to find my voice. “What the fuck, Alison!”
Oliver startles awake by my outburst, his cries echoing through the room.
She seems shocked by my language. “What? But I thought…”
“Why are you in here, Alison?” I growl, my voice harsh and low.
She stutters, “You…invited me.” Her wide eyes tear up, a few sliding down her cheek.
“No, I didn’t,” I state, righting my shorts to make sure I’m covered. My cock is already softening, even though it was so fucking close to release. The moment I realized it wasn’t Lena’s hand around me, my body started to shut down.
“You did,” she insists. “Outside. The guys said you gave them the look, not to touch me. Cookie said it was because you already claimed me.”
I run my hand through my hair and down my face before jumping out of bed to take care of Oliver. “No, Alison, I didn’t want them to fuck you and cause problems. I was making it clear you’re off-limits because of Oliver. Not because of me.”
She seems shocked and then embarrassed. She averts her eyes as I turn to my son and scoop him up from bed. He’s pissed as hell now, so I figure it’s time for a diaper change and bottle. “I’m soooo sorry,” she cries, covering her face with her hands.
“It’s…fine,” I bite, even though it really isn’t. I can’t worry about Alison coming into my room at night. This is the last thing I need to deal with right before a race. “Listen, I’m going to change him and make a bottle,” I add, positioning Oliver on my shoulder.
She steps toward the doorway. “I can make the bottle.”
“No,” I reply quickly, practically interrupting her. “No, thank you. I’ll get it. You can head back to your bed.”
Alison nods, but stops at the doorway. “Listen, Mack, I truly am sorry. I completely misunderstood what the guys were saying earlier. After Lena… I just thought that’s how you were,” she replies with a shrug, like I’m some playboy who fucks all of his nannies.
“I’m not,” I say, keeping my back to her. “Lena was…is different.”
“Please don’t fire me,” she whispers, the humiliation clear in her words.
I exhale and close my eyes for a second. Then, I set Oliver down on my bed and prepare to change his pants. “It’s fine, Alison, but please don’t come into my bedroom again.”
“I won’t. I promise,” she assures before adding, “Good night.”
And then she’s gone, leaving me alone with my pissed-off son and more questions than answers. I hear the flimsy door to the bunk shut, and suddenly I feel like I can actually breathe. I greedily suck in air and make quick work of a diaper change. Oliver reaches his hands up, as if he just wants me to hold him.
The moment I have a clean diaper on his butt, I cradle him to my chest. Quietly, I slip out of my room and make a bottle, grateful everything I need is readily available. When we get back to my room, I place him in my bed and curl up beside him. His mouth is open and
ready, a little smile plays on my lips. He’s an eager one, that’s for sure.
I lie beside him, watching him eat. His eyes occasionally glance my way, and I swear there’s judgment. It’s like he knows I’m the reason she’s no longer here, with him, and suddenly, I wonder if I really did try hard enough. Could I have convinced her to stay, or was her dad right, and I just needed to step back and let her come to her decision on her own? From where I stand now, I’m thinking I was wrong to let her get in the car, but that’s the longing talking. Deep down, I know he’s right.
Even though I miss her so fucking much it hurts, I know letting her walk away was the right decision.
Now, I need to figure out how to make her realize where she truly belongs.
With us.
Chapter Twenty-One
Lena
I reach for the remote and sigh. I point it at the television, but don’t turn it on. Why am I doing this? To torture myself? Knowing they’ll grab as many shots of him as possible during the prerace?
Yes, to all of the above.
It’s been almost a week since I left Mack and Oliver, and my desire to see them, even through the television monitor, is too strong to ignore. When he left the first time, you couldn’t have paid me to turn on the TV. Now, it’s like my soul is calling for me to do it, to catch a glimpse of Mack before the race.
That’s why I turn on the television and find the channel of the race.
The announcer is interviewing Daniels. He’s wearing a cocky smirk and talking about being in the lead in points standing. He even refers to Mack, though not outright. “I know being the points leader is like having a big target on my back. Some drivers even go as far as to intentionally try to wreck me,” he says with a shrug. He turns his cocky grin to the camera and says, “And that’s not in their best interest.”
“He did not, jerkface!” I holler at the screen, sitting down with a huff on my couch. The second I drop, they cut to the next driver and discuss tonight’s race.