“Play safe.”
He leaned down and captured my lips in a bruising kiss. My mind fogged and I curled my toes. I clutched his neck, not wanting to let him go, as though this kiss would be our last. Every fiber in me wanted to cling to him, but I had to let him go. His hands left my waist and gripped the top of the open window of his stock car. He swung inside, handed me his shades, and strapped himself in. Something ached in my gut, sucking the happiness right out of me and I didn’t know why. He smiled at me while placing his earpiece, then pulled on his helmet. Lenny fastened his window net.
It was time to go.
Why was I so worried? I was going to be in his arms again within the next few hours. I hurried to meet Dean on the roof.
“Drivers, start your engines!”
Fans cheered, cars roared to life, and my heart hammered inside my chest. This race, although five hundred laps long, was going to be fast-paced. The cars took to the track, the green flag dropped, and I sat on the edge of my seat. Colton drove great, keeping up with the best and staying out of the few crashes that happened early on.
Dean tensed when the pits opened and it came time for the first scheduled pit stop. Dean always tensed at this point. Colton wasn’t the only one with a job out there; the entire pit crew had a hand in the team’s success. A speedy, well-executed stop meant the difference between coming out in front or in last place.
Colton ducked onto pit road and tucked the car quick and easy in front of his marker. We were off to a good start. Within a blink of an eye, the crew had jacked the passenger side ready for the tire change, but then they stalled.
“Come on guys, let’s go!” Colton yelled.
The crew scrambled. Something wasn’t working.
“What the hell’s going on, chief?”
I could see Lenny wiping his brow, looking stressed and panicked. Dean cued his mic. “Come on, guys, everyone else is already back out on the track.”
“Guns are jammed, boss!”
“What do you mean ‘Guns are jammed’? All of them?”
“Dammit!” Colton said.
“All but one,” Lenny replied, his voice shaken.
“A four-tire change with one impact wrench? Son of a—” Dean tore past me and practically jumped down the ladder. By the time he reached the pit stall they had managed to get Colton back out on the track.
“Three laps down,” Jimmy announced.
“Son of a fu—”
“Colton. The kids,” Dean reminded him. Fans young and old could listen in during races. Colton needed to control his anger. My heart went out to him, but I kept my hopes high. At any other track, the delay could have cost him big, but with Bristol being such a short track, Colton still had a fighting chance at recovery.
Colton rounded the first and second turns and an eerie feeling fell over me again. I refocused, looked around and saw Carl staring at me from his hauler. He flashed me a crooked grin before leaning over his railing to spit. I scrunched my face in disgust. That’s attractive.
He continued to stare my way with an all-knowing gleam in his eyes. Like a man with a secret he could hardly contain. Had this last pit stop issue been his fault? Had Carl found a way to sabotage the crew’s tools? I blinked and forced my attention back out to Colton coming around for his next lap.
“You’re gaining positions,” Colton’s spotter blared through my head set. “Hang in there.”
Colton said nothing. I took a peek down at the pits. Dean, paced furiously while race officials tried to calm him down. I felt for him. His first Cup season had barely begun and twice his team had fallen victim to sabotage. NASCAR still wasn’t even in a position to do anything about it other than add this latest incident to the ongoing investigation.
In no time, Colton made his way back up the field into the lead, still gaining positions.
“You’re doing great, Colt. You’re running faster than the leader. At this rate, you’ll catch up to him quick,” Lenny told him.
Colton remained silent. My heart ached for him to respond. I desperately wanted to hear his voice, but dead air filled my headset.
Dean remained in the pits, probably wanting to keep an eye on the tools and equipment after they’d been replaced and inspected. The following stops moved as flawlessly as they usually did, and with thirty laps left to go, I couldn’t stand still. Every nerve in my body was on fire.
Colton ran with the leaders again.
I shot a glance at Carl. He couldn’t be too happy that this incident hadn’t kept Colton away from Mitch.
They were now neck-and-neck for the second spot. Colton went high then tucked down close to Mitch. I noticed Carl wildly gesturing as he shouted into his mic, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying.
“Twenty laps to go,” cued Jimmy.
Cars rumbled around the track more loudly than at any race I’d been to so far. The bowl-shaped stadium and concrete banked track amplified the noise, intensifying the atmosphere.
Colton and Mitch moved ahead of the leader.
This was it, the chase to the checkers. I didn’t know whether to be sick or to scream my lungs out with encouragement.
They slowed and banked into turn four. Mitch jerked up against Colton, forcing him up the bank and into the wall.
“What the …” Colton yelled in my ears.
“Again.” I heard Carl cheering from his rooftop. Mitch ducked low, and up he went again, crashing sideways into Colton’s car.
“Someone tell that guy to lay off!” Colton screamed.
“Message is on its way,” Lenny shouted, telling Colton he’d already radioed the race officials to relay the message.
“Take that car out of this race or your career is over,” Carl yelled. I snapped my head toward him. Had I heard right?
Mitch dipped low into turn one and bashed up against Colton, sending him into the SAFER barrier. My eyes grew wide. This was all Carl’s doing. He was threatening Mitch’s career to get him to do his dirty work.
The former leader came up quick behind Colton, boxing him in with nowhere else to go.
“Behind you,” Jimmy called out, but it was too late.
The nose of the fourth place car scooped up Colton’s rear end and propelled it up into the air.
The scream that escaped my throat burned on its way out.
Colton’s car tumbled at speeds only an Olympic gymnast on a competition floor could achieve down the embankment, end-to-end.
My chest ached from screaming.
Carl watched the scene, smiling and enjoying every second. “You did this!” I screamed at him.
Violent pulses hammered inside my head, trying to let my curse break free. My mind hazed with static and magnetic energy. I gripped the aluminum railing, watching Colton’s car get ripped to shreds. Chunks of rubber and plastic broke off and propelled into the air each time his car made contact with the ground. Another car collided with him, sending him back up the turn only to roll back down after smashing into the wall again. The next blow came from the inside, crushing him against the SAFER barrier.
I leaned over the railing, trying to see through the thick gray smoke rising from the scene. Mitch was going after him for the final blow. Burnt rubber, leaking fuel, and hot motor oil filled my lungs. Sparks of tiny, white lights exploded in my head and an excruciating pain sliced through my temples. Every inch in me filled with hurt. My ability simmered, fueled by my rage, and I could no longer control it, I could no longer contain the beast that was ripping through my defenses. Pain seared through me as I involuntarily reached my arm out toward the track. I tensed and tried to refocus, but when Mitch’s car hurtled up into the air, I knew my last attempt at containing my curse had failed. All I could do now was watch through a haze of my tears as the roof of his car hit the pavement on the high side of turn two with a sickening crash. It skidded to the bottom of the track, its body torn to pieces, roll cage exposed.
Colton. Where was Colton?
Eyes frantic, I searched the rest of
the chaos until I found him, his car back on all four tires at the base of the bank nearest to the flat surface in front of pit road.
Race officials and paramedics rushed onto the track. I tumbled back, clutching my shirt where my heart felt like it was pounding out of my chest. My scorched lungs squeezed and burned with my every breath. This had to be a dream. This couldn’t be real. I hadn’t just lost my marbles in front of all these people. I hadn’t …
I rolled onto my stomach, gripped the bottom rail of the railing, and lifted my heavy head. Carl Stacy stared back at me, his eyes as wide as his sockets allowed, mouth agape in horror. Why was he staring at me like that? Had he seen what I’d done?
Tears streamed down my face, pooling over my lip. I wiped them away with the back of my hand.
Blood.
Bright red smears covered my fingers and sent my gut rolling. I frantically clawed at my face with the pads of my fingers and the back of my hands, seeing more red, more blood. Not only did I have a nosebleed, but I was crying blood. I looked up at Carl, at his unchanged, fear-stricken face. He saw everything. He’d seen what I’d done. He knew it was me.
“Lexi!”
The hauler swayed with Dean’s hurried steps up the ladder. “Come on, we’ll meet Colt at the medical care faci—”
I faced him, still on my stomach.
Dean gasped. He threw himself at the railing and leaned over the edge. “I need a medic! Damn it, I need a medic up here, now!”
He knelt down next to me and pulled off my ball cap and headset.
“Christ, Lexi, what the hell happened?” His hand brushed back my hair. My short, gurgling breath struggled to reach my scorching lungs. One word managed to slip out my lips.
“Colton?”
“Shh … Colton’s going to be fine.” Dean looked down at his shaking, blood-covered hands, then wrapped them around me, rocking me back and forth.
“Lexi. Oh, Lord, Lexi. What happened to you?” His voice faded. My heavy head fell against his chest. I was numb, unable to feel anything. Haze and darkness enveloped my mind. I tried to fight it, tried to stay awake, but everything swirled … and then it all went black.
chapter eighteen
I opened my eyes just a sliver. Flourescent lights turned the inside of my eyelids a pale orange. Panic bubbled up inside me, and I sat straight up on the bed, eyes wide. Where the hell am I?
“Lexi, calm down,” a voice sternly instructed.
I curled my fingers around the metal bed rails. Pain stabbed the back of my left hand. There was medical tape crisscrossed over the hilt of a needle jabbed into my skin, hooking me to a fluid bag hanging from a stand to my left.
This was it, wasn’t it? My worst nightmare come to life. I’d been thrown into an institution, or locked up in a research facility. “Oh, God, no. Not now, please.”
“Shhh, Lexi. It’s me … it’s Dean.”
This time the voice registered. I looked at him. “Dean?”
“It’s me, kiddo.”
I took another panicked look around the room. “Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital.”
Hospital? I took a moment to digest the word and then forcibly relaxed.
“Why am I in a hospital? What’s happened … oh, God, did I …?”
“Shhh. It’s okay. Just lay back down. You’re okay.” Dean put his hands on my shoulders and guided me back down until my head rested on the pillow. He leaned over me, his face etched with worry and relief.
Quick, unsequenced images of an accident sped through my mind. The bittersweet smell of fuel, the scorching scent of burning rubber, and the sound of twisting metal began to accompany the memory flashes. It was all coming back to me.
“Colton!”
“He’s okay. Colton is fine,” Dean tried to reassure me, but the look on his face told another story. Was he lying to me?
“Where is he? Where’s Colton?”
“The doctors cleared him to leave yesterday. He wanted to stay here with you, but I made him go home. He’s pretty banged up, but after a little rest, he should be good to get back in the saddle for next weekend’s race.” A faint smile formed on Dean’s lips, but the look of concern still lingered in his features.
Bad news was coming.
“But, Lexi, something did happen.” I knew it.
“It’s … Mitch.”
My insides twitched. “Is he …?”
“No, but he’s in critical condition. There was this freak outcome to the accident that no one can explain.” Dean rubbed his forehead between his thumb and fingers. “Whatever it was, it saved Colton, but Mitch didn’t get so lucky.”
Freak outcome? As in my outcome? I sprung forward again, but Dean anticipated my move and held his arm out across the upper part of my chest and shoulders. “Maybe I shouldn’t have told you this so soon.”
“Is he going to be okay?”
“Doctors don’t know yet. It’s touch and go. But you shouldn’t worry about that right now.” He slid his arm back, pausing to give my shoulder a gentle rub.
“Lexi, do you have any medical conditions I should tell the doctors about?”
“I don’t think so, why? Did they find something wrong with me?” I’d avoided doctors since my curse had morphed, afraid that my ability could be physiologically detectable.
“That’s just it. They couldn’t find anything wrong with you, which makes it difficult to explain why you were covered in blood. Or why the roof of the hauler dented in under you.”
“What day is it?”
“It’s Tuesday. You’ve been out for a few days.”
Days? I’d been here for days? Bile rose to the back of my throat. I’d been in fear of my ability for years, but now I was just plain terrified. I’d never lost control this big before. How was it even possible?
“What the hell happened up there, Lex?”
I turned away and stared out the small gap in the window curtains. Sunlight spilled in, glaring off the dust particles drifting through the air. Probably late morning or early afternoon, by the looks of it. What could I say? It was me? That I was the one who launched Mitch’s car through the air? I turned my head back toward him. “I don’t know.”
“You should’ve seen Carl’s face when I brought you down the ladder. He couldn’t keep his eyes off you.” Dean moved his hand into mine and brushed a strand of my hair off my face with his other. “There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?”
I faced the curtains again, too ashamed to look him in the eye. How could I tell him? How could I make someone normal believe that I had the ability to magnetize and control steel and iron with a simple thought? That because of me, Mitch Benson might die? He would have me committed.
“I hate to suggest this, but maybe I should give Carl a call. Maybe he could tell us what happened.”
“Dean, no. Please don’t do that. The doctor said I was fine, right? Why bring him into all this?”
“Don’t you want to know what happened to you? Maybe something he tells us will trigger your memory—”
I tensed and shook my head. “Please don’t. Promise me you won’t.”
“Okay, okay, I won’t.” He was confused. I could tell. But what else could I do?
How could I have been so stupid? How could I have let myself lose control like that? I had this thing controlled for two whole years before Colton came along. And even then, I thought I’d nipped that problem in the bud as of late. But obviously I’d been wrong. At Gwen’s party, when I’d mentally flung the pitcher of water at her, I hadn’t meant to, but I’d been jealous. She’d kissed Colton right in front of me. And at the track, when I saw Mitch going after Colton again, I wanted to protect him. Protect Colton. All these outbursts still revolved around Colton and my feelings for him.
The walls were closing in on me. I couldn’t breathe. “I want to get out of here. Please get me out of here.” My voice cracked.
“Lexi … I really think we should at least—”
&n
bsp; “No,” I cut him off. I looked him, my eyes thick, my face burning.
Dean’s shoulders fell. “Let me get the doctor and see if we can have you discharged.”
He left the room. A tear broke free and rolled down toward my chin. I quickly wiped it away and inspected my hand. No blood. I exhaled in relief.
My eyes had never bled before. I’d also never hurtled a car in the air from a distance before, either. Every ounce of my body wanted to protect Colton that night, and my ability had fed on that fact. But at what cost? Would I be responsible for Mitch’s death if he didn’t make it? Could I live with the guilt of killing someone? I glanced around the hospital room. Had I almost killed myself?
Dean reappeared at my side some minutes later. “The doctor said you can go home in the morning. They just want to keep you under observation for one more night.”
I groaned.
“They would have released you right away if the MRI machine hadn’t broken down while you were in it.”
“They took an MRI?” Not good … so not good.
“Apparently something went wonky when they tried to scan your brain. The images wouldn’t show up. Without the machine and the scans, they want to keep an eye on you a bit longer.”
Polarized magnets. They were lucky I hadn’t subconsciously destroyed the thing. I still had nightmares about some of Roy’s fridge magnets launching themselves and shattering the window when I walked into the kitchen the day after my freakout at the high school. It took me a while to learn how to control that. Of course, Roy thought I’d actually chucked them on purpose and gave me a good smack across the face for it.
“Get some rest. I’ll go call home and let Lorna and Colton know you’re awake.”
I let my head sink fully into the pillow and exhaled a long breath. Why hadn’t I just gone back home when I had the chance? Mitch wouldn’t be in the intensive care unit, and I wouldn’t feel so shitty for having to lie and dodge questions to keep my secrets.
Then again, Colton probably would’ve died.
The doctors discharged me in the morning, but my blood tests revealed a slight iron deficiency. Go figure. So after prescribing me some iron supplements—which I had no plans on taking, for obvious reasons—they suggested that I follow up with Dean’s family doctor in a week. Dean had the appointment set up by the time we landed in Atlanta.
Magnetic Shift Page 15