“We are not back together. We will never be together again.”
chapter twenty-one
With Mitch Benson released from the hospital, the media once again focused on last month’s incident. Reporters spun stories of Carl’s threats to Mitch and speculated about the “why”. Rumors of bankruptcy rose for Stacy Motorsports, and Carl was being put under a lot of pressure. How the man could be so close to bankruptcy with two championship wins under his belt was beyond me. And wasn’t he starting up a new team? I didn’t know what to think of the recent media uproar, but it was hitting a little too close to home for my comfort.
“Time to go,” Dean shouted from downstairs.
I flicked the TV off and grabbed my bags. This week’s schedule was screwy due to this weekend’s race being on Saturday night under the one and a half miles of lights at the Texas Motor Speedway instead of the usual Sunday afternoon races we’d had up to this point in the season. And with Guardian Auto Insurance’s big decision hanging over the team’s financial head, Dean was on edge.
“Fort Worth, Texas, here we come,” I mumbled, then dragged my feet down the stairs and out the front door. Colton’s advances last weekend shook me up, and I still hadn’t quite recovered from it. Other than the totally awkward Easter dinner and the morning commute to the shop yesterday, I’d managed to stay clear of him the last few days … until just now, when I tripped off the top step of the veranda stairs and landed against his chest.
“Whoa, careful.” Colton straightened me.
I stared up at him, eyes wide like an idiot. My heart flipped, and my mouth screamed for moisture. “Sorry, I—”
Colton’s face hardened. “It’s fine.” He let go of me, picked up the backpack I’d dropped, and carried it to the truck.
God, why was Dean insisting that I attend every race? I dismantled things quickly, who cares? Since starting with the team, my skills had only been urgently needed once, and the fact that I’d almost publicly exposed my ability and put Colton’s career and DSG Racing in jeopardy didn’t seem to be noticed by anyone.
On the flight I sat near the window in one of the single seats away from Colton. He sat in his usual spot on the floor, with his head against the wall and his forearms resting on his knees, legs apart. Today he stared at me, jaw clenched and brows lowered. What the hell was his problem? I should be the one angry with him. Angry that he’d set back my efforts to get over him, to keep my distance. God … I was doing this for him too, for his safety.
The seatbelt light came on. Colton staggered back to his seat and buckled up, seeming more on edge without me there to help him through his fear. Moments later, we touched down and circled to a stop. From my window, I saw a mob of reporters and camera crews charging toward the plane.
“Uh, Dean?”
Dean twisted around. “What in Sam Hill is going on out there?”
Colton unbuckled his seatbelt and rushed to the window. “Something definitely has them all riled up.”
“Okay.” Dean packed up his briefcase. “You two—not one word to these vultures. Not until I find out what this is all about. You got that? The words ‘no comment’ are the only ones occupying your entire vocabulary, English or otherwise. I want you to head straight for the rental car over there.” Dean pointed to a black Chevy sedan across the tarmac. I clenched the armrest tight. The last time I’d been surrounded by the media folk was when Colton won in Vegas, but I highly doubted they were all here for a celebration.
Dean exited the plane first. I followed him down the air stairs, clinging to the shoulder straps of my backpack, and Colton stayed close behind.
Large microphones and even larger news cameras were shoved in our faces the second our feet touched pavement. Dean pushed through the crowd, holding his briefcase up in front of him to shield his face.
“Do you have any comments regarding Carl Stacy’s allegations that you are a cheat and a fraud?” some sassy redheaded reporter asked.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Mr. Grant?” A man forced himself in front of him.
“Colton? Colton? Is there anything you can tell us about the allegations against your employer?” I heard a woman ask.
Colton kept walking. “No comment.”
Panic swelled in the pit of my stomach. I’d hoped that, after three weeks, Carl had given up on his threats.
A tall, blonde-haired woman pushed herself between Dean and me and stopped me dead in my tracks.
“Lexi, would you care to explain your involvement in this matter?”
I flinched at the microphone pointed at me. “How … how do you know my name?”
“Lexi, it’s been said that you are the key to DSG Racing’s success since the start of the season. Tell me, what skill could a seventeen-year-old girl possibly contribute to help this race team cheat?”
She shoved her microphone in my face again. I opened my mouth to recite our instructed response, but my throat tightened and I froze.
Everyone knows.
Images of lab rats and men in hazmat suits flashed in my mind. Colton wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pushed the woman’s mic away from me with his free hand. “No comment!” He brought his face close to mine. “Come on, Lex.” He tucked me close and guided me through the crowd.
“Colton, were you privy to your boss’s and your girlfriend’s plans?”
Colton looked back. “What part of ‘no comment’ do you people not understand?”
Dean was already in the driver’s seat. Colton helped me shimmy myself out of my shoulder straps and threw my pack and his gym bag into the trunk while I climbed into the back of the car. Colton came in after me and pulled the door shut. Dean stepped on the gas and got us out of there.
“Can someone tell me what the hell is going on?” Colton shouted.
My body trembled as I stared blankly at the back of the driver’s seat. Carl had finally opened his big mouth, and now Dean and Colton’s careers were about to end.
“I’m not sure yet, but I have a pretty good idea.”
Colton wrapped his arm around me again and pulled me closer. “You plan on sharing that idea with the rest of us?”
Dean glanced at me through the rear-view mirror. “Let’s get to the track first. I’ll make a few calls, and we’ll have a staff meeting.”
I shivered. My head pounded. I could sense my ability brewing below the surface. This was my fault. All of it. I’d warned Dean to send me home. Oh, but no. He couldn’t do that. Now we were all going to pay the price for my stupid curse.
A new flock of reporters waited for us at the track, near the motor coach and the hauler. There was no escaping them.
Colton had been tasked with keeping an eye on me while we waited for Dean to give us word on where and when to meet. I paced the somber confines of my room, attempting to crack my knuckles. I’d never cracked my knuckles before, but it seemed like the perfect time to start. Besides, my teeth had massacred my lip enough. Colton sat on the bed, his face buried in his hands.
“Could you please stop with the pacing? You’re driving me insane,” Colton snapped.
“I’m sorry, I can’t help it.”
He looked up and glared. “Well, park it before I do it for you.”
His tone startled me. Only an hour ago, he’d draped his arm around me and let me lay my head against his chest in the car. Now he was back to being bitter and pissed off.
I stopped in front of him. “What the hell is your problem?”
Colton straightened. “My problem?” He threw his head back. “Ha. You really want to know what my problem is? You.” He pointed a stern finger in my direction. “You’re my problem.” My jaw dropped. I had no words. “You say you care, but you don’t want to be with me. You say you’re dangerous and you act all secretive, and now we’re being accused of cheating and those reporters seem to think that you’re at the center of it all.” He pointed at the media crews camped outside. “There’s something that you’re not telling me. If you truly cared
the way you say you do, you’d trust me enough to tell me.”
I opened my mouth to respond when my iPhone chimed. I hesitated.
Colton’s eyes grew livid at the distraction. He stood and turned his back to me. “You going to check that?”
I pulled my phone from my pocket and swiped my thumb over the screen. “It’s Dean. You know how to get to the meeting rooms?”
He gripped the edge of the dresser. “Which building?”
“The media center.”
His head fell forward. “Shit. When?”
“Now.”
He inhaled a sharp breath, pushed himself from the dresser, and moved past me. “Come on. We better get going.” He snatched his ball cap off the bed, slicked his hair back, and placed it on his head, using his other hand to adjust the back in place. “And put your game face on. We’ll be entering the proverbial lion’s den.”
Another barrage of questioning followed us out to the meeting room. A few reporters were bold enough to grab me by the arm to force me to face them, but Colton was quick to pull me out of their grasp and rush me forward again. When we arrived, the boardroom had no seats left around the glossy oak table. Colton’s crew, along with Link and his crew, filled every chair. The place had standing room only. Colton eased the door shut behind him, while I stood near Nancy, Debra, and some of the race officials against the wall. Colton removed his sunglasses and stood next to me, our shoulders pressed together.
“I’m sure you all know why I’ve called you here.” Dean leaned forward, his palms on the table. “Carl Stacy has made some highly untruthful and damaging accusations about the day-to-day operations and integrity of DSG Racing and its employees.”
“What’s he accusing us of?” Debra, Link’s PR rep asked.
Dean glanced at me. “Mr. Stacy is accusing us of cheating. He believes one of our staff members has a special set of skills that’s given us an advantage against the other teams. This mainly concerns the Cup series team, but I wanted you all here to show a united front.”
“What kind of skills?” asked another crew member.
Dean hesitated, then continued. “Carl believes this person to have skills of the … supernatural kind.” Everyone around the room snickered or laughed. I sunk back against the wall and avoided Colton’s piercing stare, which was burning its way through the side of my face.
“It also seems that he has not divulged this information to the media as of yet, which is what has them all riled up. He publicly accused us of cheating and has simply told them that all would be revealed at Saturday night’s race.”
“What’s he planning?” Colton asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Well, you better figure it out, Grant.” Mr. Langdon stood from his chair. “The board’s already on the fence about continuing their sponsorship after all the negative publicity. If anything goes wrong this weekend, I can’t guarantee we’ll be in business together much longer.”
“We are doing our best here, Paul.”
“Right now, your best isn’t good enough.” Mr. Langdon made his way to the door.
“Paul—”
Mr. Langdon stopped in the doorway. “I’ve got to go do some damage control with the board before they hear the rest of the details on the six o’clock news.”
Mr. Langdon left and all eyes turned back on Dean. Creases formed on his face and the obvious tension in his shoulders and neck seemed to be getting worse despite his rubbing them constantly. He returned his attention to the crowd in front of him.
“I want you all to be on high alert and ready for anything. Again, ‘no comment’ is your new best friend. I ask that you report anything that could be considered suspicious or anything you think might be relevant to the situation to me or to any race official close by. Keep an eye on your equipment and double-check everything. Triple check, even. Thank you for your time.”
Everyone filed out of the room and went about their business. I remained against the wall, unmoving. I had to tell Dean. I had no choice. This was going too far.
Colton pushed himself off the wall, nudged me, and turned toward the door. “You coming?”
“I need to talk to Dean.”
Dean looked up from his papers. Colton’s shoulders squared and his chin lifted a fraction of an inch. He knew I was about to tell Dean what I’d been hiding since the day I arrived. He also knew I didn’t plan on letting him stay to hear it. He collected himself and left the room.
As the last person exited and closed the door, I stood up from the wall. “You have to send me back, Dean. Send me back to the salvage yard. It’s your only hope of saving yourself from this.”
“Lex, I don’t want you to worry about all this. His allegations are ridiculous. This will all blow over in a week or two.”
“But what about the sponsorship? This will ruin any chance you have of keeping Guardian on board.”
“Even bad publicity is good publicity. Let’s just hope the board sees it that way, too.”
“You can’t take that chance. You heard what Mr. Langdon said—the board is already on the fence. Can you afford to finish the season without them?”
Dean said nothing, only pursed his lips. He knew I was right. DSG Racing couldn’t afford two race teams without that sponsorship. I’d overheard him telling Lorna just that a few nights ago.
I had to do something.
I’d feared this moment since my first day of high school, when I’d first discovered what I could do. I had to tell someone. If I didn’t, I’d be ruining multiple lives along with my own. Lives I cared about.
I glanced down at my feet, not sure I wanted to see his reaction. “Carl’s allegations aren’t false. Not entirely, anyway.”
“What are you … Lex?”
I stepped closer to the table, avoiding Dean’s darting stare piercing through me like a laser. “I haven’t figured out what I am, exactly. My father didn’t stick around long enough to tell me.” I looked up at him, then took a deep breath and readied myself to drop the bomb. “What Carl said is true. I can move things, move them without needing to touch them. Only things made of metal.”
“Lexi, listen. I appreciate what you’re—”
“No. You listen.” I squeezed my eyes shut. Avoiding Colton was one of the hardest things I’d had to do, but this was a close second.
I opened my eyes again. Dean’s arms were now crossed.
“You have to send me back now. If Carl succeeds, if he goes public, we all go down. Me, Colton’s career, your company, all of it. Carl’s not crazy. Creepy, in a perverted kind of way, yes, but not crazy. I’m the one who threw Mitch’s car into the wall to keep him away from Colton in Bristol.”
Dean’s eyes grew wide.
“I didn’t mean to do it. My ability feeds on my emotions and sometimes I lose control. It doesn’t happen often anymore and it’s never done anything this drastic before, but when I saw Mitch collide with Colton again, I lost it. And Mitch Benson paid the price. It’s why the hauler’s roof caved in. It’s why I was bleeding from the eyes and nose.”
Dean shook his head. “This is crazy. This is—”
“The truth.” I moved closer to him. “Carl witnessed it all. He knows.”
He reached for his forehead, massaging his temples with his thumb and middle fingers, but it did nothing to ease the deep creases between his eyebrows. “I don’t believe this. I can’t believe this. This is too …”
My gaze fell to where the fancy pen he always carried around lay on top of a pile of papers near his briefcase. My heart raced. Showing him was the only way he’d believe me.
Here goes nothing … or maybe everything.
I released the breath I’d locked in my throat, singled out the pen from the other objects I detected in the room, and levitated it off the table in front of him.
Dean’s hand fell to his side. A look of pure fear contorted his face. He slowly stepped back, keeping his eyes on the pen as if afraid it would attack him.
> My posture weakened at the sight of his reaction, but I continued. I turned the pen over and unscrewed the ends. The aluminum center and plastic ink refill inside fell and rolled to the floor. I twirled the two remaining ends around each other in a sort of dance. I looked back at Dean’s face. I’d known since I was old enough to understand that I was different and after Mama died that I was a freak, but seeing it confirmed in his expression made it that much more real. And I had no words left in me to say. A dull pain spread through my entire body. Now Dean knew the real me. And I was pretty sure he didn’t like it one bit.
I looked away. “Please send me away or lock me up, at least. You’ll lose everything if you don’t. I don’t want to be the reason you, your family, and Colton sees the dreams you’ve all worked so hard for get taken away.”
I shoved back my urge to cry and continued. “I knew I should’ve gone home when I had the chance. This is the reason I couldn’t go to school like a normal student, or tell anyone what kind of man my stepfather was. I would have never survived in foster care. I knew my place with Roy.”
Dean fell back in his chair, displaying the many stages of grief all at once. I bit my lip and brought the floating pen pieces back onto the tabletop. Dean’s eyes stayed glued to the objects, as if they were a new specimen, of sorts. His silence tortured me, making me wish I’d left things as they were.
“Please say something.”
He got up slowly, moving his focus toward me. My breath caught. His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. He rounded the table and reached for me. I flinched. His fingers wrapped around my upper arms with gentle force.
“Have you done anything else, other than what you did to Mitch?” His voice was stern, serious, but not enraged.
“No, I would never—”
“Colton’s success is all his own? You’ve never helped him along?”
“Nothing besides removing that engine a little faster than normal, no. I can’t project it that far. Anywhere other than Bristol, it would’ve been impossible for me to do anything to give Colton an advantage.”
Magnetic Shift Page 18