by Lacey Black
I find my foot tapping on the ground as I anxiously await my first glimpse at Mack in six long days, my hands wringing together in my lap. And then my breath catches as I spy him in the background. He’s talking to Coop and looks more amazing than I ever thought possible. He’s gorgeous and sexy as hell in his fire suit, and I can see why every woman in the world practically throws their panties at him.
When they finally get to Mack, I’m pretty sure I’m not even breathing. I wait, my heart in my throat, as they ask him a question about his qualifying laps. I don’t even pay attention to what he says. All I can do is watch his lips move and remember what that particular mouth felt like on my skin. A shiver slides down my spine.
I catch my first glimpse of Oliver just over Mack’s right shoulder, and my heart starts to sing. He’s wide awake and taking in everything around him. That’s also when I notice Alison. The baby is in her arms, her long, blonde hair down and in big beach-like waves. Her makeup is much darker than she used to wear, and her outfit is…umm, wow. She’s wearing a tight tank top, and I can already picture the image on the front because I’ve seen it before. It’s the same one Lindsay was wearing when she approached me at Mid-Ohio. I also notice Alison’s shorts, if you can actually call them shorts. They’re so tiny, if she were to bend over, I think her ass cheeks would show.
She looks nothing like the wholesome nanny she portrayed when I was there, and that thought makes me both angry and sick.
Mack finishes up his interview and smiles widely at the camera. I swear, I feel the power of that action sweep through my blood like a tsunami and land between my legs. He stares at the camera a few seconds longer than normal, as if he’s looking through the device directly at me. Tears prickle my eyes, but I blink them away.
Everyone gets ready for the national anthem, and my heart lurches. In the four races I attended, Mack sort of developed a little system for this moment. I can picture it so clearly. He’d reach over and hold Oliver’s hand, his own hand covering his heart, and he’d press his upper arm against mine. It was his way of touching me without causing a frenzy.
When the camera scans the drivers, I spot Mack easily. He’s standing at attention, his hand over his heart and his left index finger nestled in his son’s tiny hand. And Alison is there, gently sliding closer so their arms touch. Mack responds with a very subtle move of his body away from hers. “Ha!” I bellow at the screen as the camera moves on to another driver.
But I saw it.
He moved.
I head into my kitchen to grab a bottle of water and make it back in time to hear the firing of the engines. I can picture Coop up on the tower, giving Mack his instructions. I can see Fish high up over the grandstands, binoculars in his hand, as he gets ready to watch over his best friend. I can feel the energy of the guys as they stretch and make sure everything in their pit stall is ready for action.
But I’m not there.
I’m at home, in Brenton.
Alone.
The cars move, heading out to the track. They’re in Long Beach, an eleven-turn course that’s strenuous for even the best of drivers. But I know how much Mack likes these tricky tracks, and I’m sure he’s going to settle in and have a great race.
I can tell, once the flag drops, that might not be the case. He seems to struggle, almost instantly. He falls back several positions as he grapples to keep the car where he wants it. Even the broadcasters talk about how his car isn’t handling the best and hope he can make some adjustments during the first pit stop.
As the race progresses, Mack really doesn’t drive well. I can sense his frustration every time they show him on camera. There’s a tension in his body most probably can’t sense, but I do. I feel it, even all the way over here.
With seventy-five of the ninety-eight laps complete, I see his car move up the track. My heart firmly lodges in my throat, and I gasp right before he slams into the outer barrier wall, pieces of his car raining down on the track below. I’m up and moving to the television, searching for any signs of movement as the car slides back down the track. The moment the car comes to a stop, they cut to a replay of the accident.
“No! Go back to Mack!” I bellow at the screen.
Eventually, they do, just as the safety crew arrives to help him from the wreckage. As soon as the safety device is released, Mack removes his helmet, and I finally take my first breath in what feels like minutes. I watch, helplessly, as he crawls out of the car. He waves to the crowd and walks toward the waiting ambulance. They help him inside before whisking him away to the infield care center.
I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I need to be there, be with him while he’s being checked out. What if something’s wrong and he’s seriously hurt? Who will take care of him if he needs it?
I know who’ll be there, and it won’t be me.
But it should be, dammit!
I pace back and forth, walking a mile in my living room while I wait for an update on his condition. I ignore the announcers and their take on the accident. I overlook the scene on the television as they remove his car with a wrecker and pick up all the debris. Instead, I send up thousands of prayers to anyone who’ll listen to make sure he’s okay.
Finally, they cut to a field broadcaster, who is standing with Mack outside the infield care center. He’s stoic and stiff as she asks, “Mack, you’ve been released from the care center. How are you feeling?”
He signs deeply. “Feeling fine, April.”
“What happened out there?”
“The car just got away from me. I don’t know if I cut a tire or what, but it shot up the track, and I was unable to keep it from hitting the wall. We didn’t have the best handling car today, but my team had been making great strides at improving it. I hate to see the Hicks car end her day like this,” he says with a sad grin.
“I’m sure this isn’t how you wanted your day to end either.”
Just when April goes to sign off, movement is caught in the background. Suddenly, a blonde is on screen, launching herself at Mack’s chest. I recognize that hair immediately, and I gasp in response. Mack seems stunned but doesn’t do anything to dislodge Alison from his chest. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re okay!”
And then she kisses him.
Hard.
On the lips.
On national television.
And I think I die a little bit inside.
***
“Hey, baby girl,” Dad says as I enter the kitchen on Tuesday night. “What are you doing here?” he asks, smiling as he fries up some fish in the skillet.
“I sold a few more photos to that magazine I was telling you about, so I thought I’d do some more developing,” I tell him, setting my bag on the old, worn table. I glance at the table and see some sports show on, a recap of Saturday night’s race. I quickly glance away.
“He’s okay, you know,” he whispers, those all-knowing eyes watching me.
I nod. “I heard.”
“From him?”
Shaking my head, I reply, “No, I watched part of the race.”
Dad takes his fish out of the skillet and places it on a paper towel-covered plate. He turns off the heat and gives me his full attention. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course,” I say, taking a seat at the table.
He comes over to join me and reaches for my hand. “What do you want?”
“What?” I ask, confused by his question.
“Out of life, Lena. What do you want?”
My throat constricts as that familiar wetness burns my eyes. He doesn’t say anything, just waits me out. “I don’t know,” I respond, even though that’s not the right answer.
I do know.
Dad clears his throat and says, “Listen to me, Lena. This is the only life you get. You have one chance to find your happiness and make it stick for however long God gives it to you.” His eyes turn sad. “I was fortunate enough to find my happiness, pumpkin. Your mom was the best thing to happen to me, besides you. I lost
her too soon, and I don’t want that for you. If being here, in Brenton, is what you truly want, than I’m behind you one-hundred-percent, but something tells me, that’s not where your heart truly lies.”
I blink back the tears, but they fall anyway.
“…I just didn’t have good grip,” Mack’s voice echoes through the room.
Our attention is pulled to the television on the counter as the broadcaster agrees, “Good grip is important.”
Mack’s smile is small, but mighty. “I’m not just talking about on the track, Bob. The great Colton Donavan once said to me, grip is necessary on the track, but even more so, off. Not only was I missing it at Long Beach, I was missing it in my personal life too. That magical grip that holds it all together. It reaches into your soul and bonds you to another person. That’s what I was missing Saturday night, Bob. My grip. My bond. My soul.”
“He’s talking about you, you know,” Dad says, chuckling.
I look across the table. “You think?” I ask, hope starting to fill the aching hole in my chest.
“I’m certain, Lena Christine.”
I glance back at the television, only to find it cut to a commercial break, but deep down, I know he’s right. He’s who my soul calls to. Without him, there is no happiness, and that’s not what I truly want for this life. I want to be happy, smiling, and full of love.
For Mack.
And Oliver.
I get up from the chair, press a kiss to my dad’s forehead, and say, “Thank you, Daddy.” My arms wrap around his shoulders. “You’ll always be my first love.”
“But I’m not your forever, Lena.”
I nod, grab my bag, and slip out the door. I walk across the track, the only sense of roots I’ve ever known. Well, until I visited Los Angeles. Being there, with Mack and Oliver, is when I truly felt at home. Yes, I’ll always have a place in Brenton, with my dad, but that’s not where my heart is calling me.
Unlocking my studio, I turn on the lights and set my bag down. I take my old Nikon out of the case and head to my dark room. I mix the solution, prepping the trays for processing. I remove the film from my camera and get to work. Meticulously, I go through the steps to transfer the film to paper, my hands steady and careful.
The first image starts to come to life. It’s one from the first few nights in LA, and my heart beats wildly as excitement sweeps through my blood. There on the photo paper is a developing image of Mack sitting in his rocker recliner and feeding Oliver.
I go through each one, snapshots of my time with them brought to life before my eyes. I see Oliver in his stroller, in his swing, and in the bathtub. I see Mack working on his truck, smiling at the soapy baby in the small tub, and at the racetrack. Then I get to images I didn’t take. Ones of Oliver and me together. The ones Mack took when he was trying to be sneaky.
I hang each one up carefully, smiling at the memories they possess. All of the pictures capture my time with them perfectly, and it’s right then I realize what my heart has been telling me all along.
Mack is my happiness.
I swipe away the tears and watch the photos come to life as I finish processing. The moment I’m able to step out, I slip from the room and reach for my phone. The first thing I search is for this weekend’s race. It’s in Richmond.
My next search is for airfare, but before I can book, I need a plan. I grab my bag, turn off the lights, and lock the door. I’m practically running back up to the house to speak to my dad. I’m going to need assistance for this part, and there’s only one man who can help me. But first, I need to know how to get ahold of Fish.
He’s my ticket in on Sunday.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Mack
My hand is still shaking as I set the phone down. Exhaling, I close my eyes and breathe in the quiet.
It’s done.
Colton wasn’t thrilled to hear my decision, but I know I made the right call. For me and for Oliver. Funny, I had the same reaction three years ago when he offered me a job with CDE, and I never expected to feel relief when I turned down this one.
We’re in Richmond for the race. I’m due in the garage in twenty minutes to go over our race plan and take a few photos with corporate sponsors. The door to the motorhome opens to a flurry of activity, and I’m instantly smiling.
“Hey,” I say, as Beth and the kids step inside.
“Hi, Mack,” Beth replies, leaning in and giving me a hug.
“Where’s baby Ollie?” little MaKenzie asks, her wide eyes and eager just like her dad’s.
“He’s still sleeping in back. Do you want to run and check on him?” I ask.
Both kids nod before taking off to my bedroom. “Be quiet,” Beth whisper-yells, but I just laugh.
“He’s ready to get up,” I reassure her. “Thank you, again, for agreeing to help.”
Her face lights up. “Are you kidding me? I’m happy to help! To be honest, the kids get so bored at the races anyway. This way, after the race starts, we can come back here and watch TV and play. You’re saving my sanity, really,” she says with a chuckle.
“He’s awake!” MaKenzie hollers from the doorway.
“I’ll get him,” Beth says, heading that way. “You better head to the garage. You don’t want to be late and piss off Coop.”
I laugh as I wave goodbye and head out the door. I know my son will be in great hands with Beth, and as Coop said earlier in the week when I talked to him about my situation, he’s hoping this time with Oliver might give her the baby vibe once more.
I sigh as the sun hits me in the face. It’s a gorgeous day in Richmond, and even though it’s bright and warm, it still doesn’t reach my soul. It’s been a trying week. First thing I did when I got back to LA was fire Alison. That bullshit with the kiss was the last straw. I admit, she caught me off guard, and I didn’t really react much at the time, but the more I thought of it, and the more she tried to sidle up beside me like a girlfriend would, the more pissed off I got. After talking with the agency, I ended up hiring Mrs. Pearson temporarily, but without the travel.
That’s where Beth comes in.
The other thing hanging over my head like an anvil is my contract. The office called me in on Thursday to discuss an extension. They presented a great opportunity for me to keep driving for CDE for another four years. I’d be a fool not to sign on the dotted line.
But that’s not where my heart is right now.
And that’s why I called Colton fifteen minutes ago and declined his offer. Now that I have Oliver, I need to think about more, about what I want for him and our life. First thing Monday morning, I’ll reach out to a realtor and search for a house.
In Brenton.
“There you are,” Coop says as I enter the garage.
“I’m here.”
“Beth and the kids okay?” he asks.
“Yep. They were just waking Oliver up when I left.” I look at one of my oldest friends, our eyes meeting. “Thank you for everything.” My throat thickens with emotion.
“Ehh, I didn’t do anything,” he says, playing off my gratitude.
“No, man,” I say, reaching over and grabbing his ink pen.
When his eyes meet mine again, it takes him a few seconds, but he seems to understand what I’m saying. “Really?”
I nod. “It’s time. I have Oliver to think about now, Coop. You know what it’s like on the road, and unlike you, I don’t have anyone to share the load. And I’m not really interested in another try at finding a nanny to travel with me,” I say, making him laugh.
“No shit, Cruz. That’s crazy enough for even the most stable man to run for the hills.”
I laugh. “And we both know I’m not always stable.”
“Hey, you said it, not me.”
We laugh together for a second before silence falls around us. “You sure? Like really, really sure? I have to say, Cruz, you’re one of the most talented drivers I’ve ever had the opportunity to work with. You’d be crazy to walk away now, while you’re
in your prime.” Before I can say anything, he continues, “But I understand why you’re leaving. If I were in your shoes and I didn’t have Beth, I’d probably make the same decision.”
“Yeah?” I don’t know why but hearing him acknowledge my decision as the right one has me choking on emotions I’d rather keep buried. I’ve never had many friends, but the true ones I do have are all here, wrapped up in this team.
He smiles. “Before you go and make this decision final, maybe you should talk to him,” he says, pointing over my shoulder.
I follow his line of sight and gasp when I see Jim standing along the fence. My feet are already moving, carrying me to where he leans against the chained link, a wide grin on his aged face. “Jim? What are you doing here?” I ask the moment I’m close.
He shrugs. “Thought I’d swing by and see a race,” Jim replies as he pulls me into a hug.
“Swing by? In Virginia?” I laugh.
He lifts his shoulder. “Close enough. So how are you?”
“I’m good,” I state, my throat thick and dry. I can’t help it, I glance around.
For Lena.
If Jim notices my wandering eyes, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he goes with, “So they were talking on Sports Center about your contract renewal. CDE was rumored to be ready to offer you a good one.”
I give him a slow nod. “They did.”
His eyes fill with pride, a look I never received from my own father. Only Jim Stanley. “Damn, Son, that’s awesome.”
I clear my throat. “Actually, I turned it down.” While I fully anticipated the sadness, I’m surprised by the relief that accompanies saying those words aloud.
“You did?”
Nodding, I say, “It’s the right decision for me. With Oliver so little, I just don’t think this is the right life for us. I think I’ll find a place to live, maybe out in the country somewhere, with a pool.” I can’t help but smile as I think of Lena.
“Sounds like a nice place, Son.” He looks me in the eye and adds, “But maybe you want to talk to her before you make a big decision like that.” He nods to the right, and that’s when I see the most beautiful woman in the world standing about ten feet away. She’s wearing a tight Mack Cruz T-shirt which accentuates her tits and shorts that hit mid-thigh. She looks better than any of the track bunnies who hang around trying to catch drivers’ attention.