Falling Hard

by Tina Wainscott

  “Ma’am?”

  Gemma’s head jerked up, and she realized that she’d moved along with the line without even realizing it.

  “The largest cappuccino you have. Super, huge, grand, or whatever you call it.” She would need the comfort of caffeine to face the one man she might have been happy with.

  She paid and stood off to the side. Safely tucked into a corner of the café, she studied the occupants, clusters of people chatting happily, others sitting alone with their laptops.

  “Is that her?”

  The whispered words caught Gemma’s ear, and she casually turned toward their source. She couldn’t see their faces clearly in her peripheral vision, but there were two women about her age.

  “I heard she might be coming to town,” the other whispered.

  Gemma’s face heated, but she kept her chin lifted and focused on the counter, where the baristas were busily filling orders. All around her, people laughed, chatted, and carried on. Belonged.

  She inched closer to the counter and snagged her drink before the girl could announce her name. Armed with caffeine and courage, she headed out of town. Still no text from Pax. She was hoping for a last-minute reprieve. What if no one was at the track? She imagined trying to explain to some big-rig driver where the bleachers might go.

  She wasn’t sure which was worse, actually—being alone or being with Pax. She’d been with Pax, though, and had managed. Managed? You were gawking at his ass. Taking mental pictures of his pretty face.

  Oh, stop.

  Seeing Pax had resurrected some not-so-bad feelings. It was good to know that she could feel desire again. Just not with Pax! The two guys she’d dated, well, she had to admit she hadn’t felt any sizzle. They were comfortable, nonthreatening men. Okay, boring men.

  Maybe you were the boring one, Gemma, dressed down, afraid to let out that sensuality and sass you once possessed. Setting boundaries, keeping your distance.

  Because that sass might have played a role in Blake’s taking advantage of me, she answered the voice in her head. I drank, I flirted, and I gave him ideas.

  As much as she’d worked through her culpability in therapy, the doubt niggled. Poked. Scraped at the old wounds. She hated it. Even though she knew Blake had been wrong, she couldn’t push away those doubts.

  She tried to find the place where her tire had given out. It was all marsh on either side of the two-lane highway, no civilization in sight. She was lucky that someone had come by. Even if it was Pax.

  Farther east, she spotted a freshly painted sign that announced the Chambliss Speedway. A smaller sign tacked at an angle proclaimed that it would be ready in the fall.

  She turned onto the faded asphalt and saw tall metal light poles in the near distance. A fence surrounded the entire track area. Luckily, the gates were open. A large field to the right served as parking. On the left were three buildings, one of which she figured was the ticket booth. She continued down the road to where it curved toward the track and passed a sign that said FOR RACERS AND CREW ONLY. A roaring sound filled her car. There clearly wasn’t a race going on, not with the empty parking lot and the lack of anyone in sight.

  She paused where the road turned right onto the track or continued past it. Two cars were just going into the far turn. Cutting her engine, she stepped out and watched the cars speeding around the track. The dark red one looked like a racecar, or at least not like a normal car. It bore the number eight on the side, along with several sponsor labels. The other was a dark blue muscle car with two helmeted people inside.

  She watched the cars go around a few more times. The racecar pulled ahead of the other car and was half a lap ahead when she saw the driver’s head jerk toward her. She’d been spotted. But by whom?

  Her throat tightened as the car headed toward the far turn again. Blake and Pax being nothing alike, logic dictated that he wouldn’t be interested in racing if Pax was. But there was nothing logical about Blake. All-American football hero, good looking, and the object of many a girl’s affections.

  Rapist.

  The racecar sped toward her, though she could hear it downshift. It spun as it reached the turn next to her, doing a one-eighty right at her. She didn’t breathe as she stood her ground, the car’s back end swinging toward her. It came to a stop parallel to her car. Tire smoke wafted up in a cloud, filling the air with the scent of burned rubber.

  It was no surprise when the driver pulled off his helmet and revealed himself to be Pax. He climbed out of the car and landed with a thump, letting out a triumphant yowl. “Damn, that felt good.” So he wasn’t trying to scare the hell out of her, then—just showing off. His chest, beneath a tight tank top, heaved with deep breaths as he ran his fingers through his hair and assessed the car’s position. “Perfectly lined up. A-stounding. Though I wasn’t expecting you to just stand there. What brings you by?”

  His tanned skin was slick, his hair damp at the edges. He looked yummy, and she kicked herself for even thinking it. He smelled of heat and clean sweat, all male mixed with deodorant, just like that night when they’d first met. It threw her off, like being jerked to the past for a glimpse of what could have been. Before she’d lost her innocence, and found her regrets.

  “I…” She cleared her throat. “I tried to call.”

  His expression grew serious. “Is Wade all right? Did something happen?” He obviously cared about her father.

  “No, he’s good. He was actually talking.”

  The other car rolled up, and her heartbeat took a dive. The driver was a guy. In the shadows of the interior, she couldn’t see much beyond that he looked rather big and muscular. He pulled off his helmet and set it in the backseat, then got out. Not blond. Not square in the face. Not Blake.

  The guy walked around to the passenger side and helped a pretty woman about Gemma’s age exit. She shook out her own brown hair, then brushed her hand over his hair to smooth the ruffled locks. It was a simple gesture, but a lump formed in Gemma’s throat. Simple but intimate, loving, thoughtful. She could imagine Pax doing that when she’d had that lock of hair sticking out.

  “Nice spin there, Pax,” the guy said as he and the woman joined them.

  “Raleigh, Mia, you remember Gemma?” Pax said, his gaze on her. “They were at the races that night you came.”

  Because that night was branded in her mind, stored away with all the what-ifs and could-have-beens, she easily recalled them. “You were parked in front of Pax’s car, right?”

  “I usually was.”

  Real friendship. Gemma missed that. Once she’d returned to New York, she hadn’t reached out to her old friends. She’d been irrevocably changed, and hanging out in strangers’ apartments or nightclubs was something she couldn’t do anymore. They didn’t understand her withdrawn state, and she didn’t feel like enlightening them.

  Mia slid a curious glance at Pax before reaching out. “Nice to meet you.” And thank you for not holding the past against me, as I’m sure you’ve only heard Blake’s version of the story. “I just came back to town myself.”

  Gemma shook her hand, then Raleigh’s. “Nice to meet you, too. Though I’m not staying. I’m here to help my dad recover, then I’m outta here.”

  Mia snaked her arm around Raleigh’s waist and leaned close. “I’d planned to stay for a short while, too. But I’m a lifer now.”

  Not going to happen to me. Gemma took in the way Raleigh looked at Mia, and the happiness shining in her brown eyes. “I can see why.” Then she noticed the burn scars on Mia’s face and arm. “You’re the ones who got into the racing crash, aren’t you?” Way to be blunt, Gemma.

  Amazingly, Mia’s smile didn’t dim at all. “Yep, that’s us. I went back to Minnesota, and we lost track of each other for seven years. I thought I’d lost the love of my life. When Fate wants you to be with someone, though, she uses all her dirty tricks to work her magic.” She held out her left hand, where a diamond glittered on a gold band. “And we’re getting married.”

 
“How wonderful. Congratulations.” A part of her envied what they had. Gemma had dreamed of love. Of a man who would look at her the way Raleigh looked at Mia.

  Gemma remembered feeling that way when Pax had shown her his car that first night they’d met. She glanced Pax’s way, surprised to find him gazing at her. “It’s nice to see a happy ending,” she said to Raleigh and Mia to cover the awkwardness. What threw her off even more was Pax’s expression. Not all hard and “I’m not going tell you that you have a black smudge on your face” but…wistful.

  She walked over to the racecar, desperate to move out of the space and out of her thoughts. “This is yours?”

  Pax came up beside her. “Yep. I’ve been racing the local circuit over the last few years.”

  She peered inside the open window to the very spare interior. There was only one seat, with a harness system and hardly any controls or gauges. Questions about it bubbled to mind, but she swallowed them back and stood up straight. “Dad said…” She would do her best to maintain the element of surprise. The delivery was due in thirty minutes.

  “He said?” Pax prompted.

  He said you were a good guy. She wanted to think otherwise, to see Pax as that troublemaker she’d heard about back in high school. The one with the rebellious spark in his eyes. It was there now, mixed with the gold flecks against the dark green of his irises. It had glowed when he leaped out of his car after performing that fancy move, and now that she wasn’t in imminent danger she felt the answering heat of it.

  He waited for her to finish while she got lost in those eyes. Embarrassing. “He wanted me to see his dream. Both your dreams.” She pulled her gaze toward the buildings, feeling her cheeks heat. Get a grip.

  “Uh, sure. Follow me.”

  Raleigh jabbed his thumb toward a building with three open bays. “I’m going to keep working on the garage.” He and Mia gave her a wave and headed to their car.

  Pax led the way across the asphalt track, which had recently been refinished and smelled of tar in the waves of heat shimmering above the surface. “It’s funny how Wade left New York’s fast lane only to slide back into it in a whole new way.”

  She came up beside him, though his strides were much longer than hers. “I didn’t know he was that into racing. I saw a few old pictures, but he only said he’d done a little racing ‘back in the day.’ ”

  Raleigh’s car rumbled to life, and it was Mia driving as it raced around the track toward a building at the far end.

  “I guess your mom didn’t like that he raced. When she got pregnant with you, she made him quit. I think he told himself it was time to move on, that he’d outgrown it. Sometimes we tell ourselves lies, because the truth sucks.”

  “I know.” I told myself that dating Blake was a good idea. That falling for you was a bad one. She held in the words. No point in going there. Still, the disappointment on Pax’s face when he saw her standing close to Blake the first day of school haunted her. She’d told herself that lie a thousand times those first few weeks of school.

  “Care to elaborate?” he asked, because she’d let a little too much emotion leak into those two words.

  Looking into his eyes made her want to tell him why she’d turned away from him when they’d shared such incredible chemistry. She gathered her wits and focused on the crumpled bleachers ahead. “What happened?”

  “During the years this place was closed up, kids came out and partied. The owners positioned a bunch of concrete barriers on the track so they couldn’t race. Liability and all. Guess the punks thought playing demolition derby would be just as fun. They took out the old ticket booth, nicked the concessions building, and did a number on the bleachers. I was hoping to salvage them.”

  He sprinted up the seats to the top, then shifted his hips back and forth as though he were riding a Boogie Board. The whole thing swayed.

  “Be careful.”

  He winked. “Watch it, Gemma, I might think you care.”

  “Don’t get any crazy ideas, hotshot. The sight of blood nauseates me. I’m merely thinking of myself.”

  “Hmm, sure. I remember how you used to watch me in the school courtyard. Your eyes would get all wide, and your mouth made this interesting O when I climbed up on the roof. Just like now.”

  “Ah, so you were doing it to catch my attention.”

  “No, but I liked that it did.”

  His admission threw her. And do you still like it? she wanted to ask after she’d wiped that expression from her face.

  She remembered one day in that courtyard, yes, watching him reclined on the roof, his eyes closed. So preoccupied with him, in fact, that she bumped into the guy she’d pegged as a bully. Andy Fletcher barely caught his tray, covered in lunch debris. “Watch it, dumb bitch,” he’d hissed.

  “Excuse me,” she’d said, instead of what she really wanted to say. “Sheesh, it was just an accidental bump. No need to get nasty.”

  “Oh, now you’re gonna lecture me. You can just suck my—”

  It happened so fast that Gemma didn’t know exactly what had happened at first. Pax jumped down from the roof right behind Andy and jerked him off his feet. The hefty boy fell, his tray landing nearby and showering him with bits of food. Pax stepped on his chest and glowered. “Apologize for being a rude asshole.”

  When Andy didn’t immediately comply, Pax moved his foot to the guy’s throat. “Apologize.”

  “I…I…”

  “Paxton Sullivan!” a teacher shouted from the other side of the courtyard. “Get your foot off him!”

  “Ma’am, I’m just trying to teach this boy some manners is all. If you’d heard what he said to this nice young lady you’d take him by the ear and wash out his mouth with soap. Though I’d personally stick his head in a toilet instead.”

  “Paxton!”

  But Pax remained deadly calm as he looked down at Andy. “I can break the bones of your throat before she gets here to save you. Apologize. Now.”

  “Sorry,” he begrudgingly huffed out in Gemma’s direction.

  Both boys were ordered to the principal’s office, and Gemma shrank under the speculation. But inside, her heart had swelled at his chivalry.

  She watched him now, walking along that back edge. “Do you remember when Andy was nasty because I bumped into him, and you came down from the roof and knocked him down?”

  “Yeah. Guy was a douchebag. He ended up going to prison for assault and battery, no surprise.”

  “I never got a chance to thank you. So…thanks.”

  “No problem. Can’t stand a bully.”

  Once again, the bleachers shifted with his steps, and she definitely had that O on her mouth. “Get down from there!”

  Pax swung down gymnast style from the back of the top bleachers and landed as light as a cat. “The whole thing’s scrap,” he said as though he hadn’t just tempted death. “We’re going to have to ask people to bring their own chairs in the beginning.”

  Now she understood why her father wanted to surprise Pax, who looked so very disappointed at that prospect.

  He gestured toward the long building beyond. “Concessions will be there. That’s where a lot of a racetrack’s revenue comes from. Though we’re not going to gouge people.” He became animated as he showed her where the graffiti had been, though he demurred on what, exactly, it said. “The little building is the new ticket and pit admissions booth.” He pointed to the tall, narrow building. “Up there’s the scoring tower. Want to see it?”

  The track was clearly his passion. How could she resist?

  “Sure.”

  He was already sprinting up the steps to the second floor, keys jingling as he removed them from his pocket. He was inside when she reached the top, standing in front of a desk that ran the width of the small room. The lights weren’t on, but sunlight illuminated the front half.

  He gestured toward the console. “This is the heart and soul of the operation. We track the cars’ positions from here, do the announcing. I can see my
entire kingdom.”

  She looked out through the window and, yes, she could see the whole track. In the distance, where the muscle car was parked in front of the garage, Harley’s tail was wagging as he chased something in the grass. Probably one of those horrid little lizards that seemed to overrun Florida. Raleigh came up behind Mia and pulled her close, nuzzling her neck. Mia leaned into him, bringing her arms up around his neck.

  Pax sidled up next to Gemma, turned on a switch, and leaned down to the microphone. “Hey! Get a room!” The two started at the sudden order, and Raleigh gave him a halfhearted bird before giving Mia an exaggerated kiss, dipping her low. Pax chuckled as he turned off the switch. “Crazy kids. I tease him, but he’s a lucky son of a bitch. They both deserve what they have. They earned it with a tour or two through hell.”

  Isolation, regret, and grief washed over Gemma as she continued to watch the two lovers. She’d never gotten to be a crazy kid in love. She’d never felt the way Mia clearly felt about Raleigh, never had a man look at her the way he did. Except once, on a hot summer night seven years ago. And she’d blown it big-time.

  Tears tightened her throat, and her eyes grew hot. No, she couldn’t cry. Not here, not in front of Pax. It was just all the emotions of being back in Chambliss, her dad in the hospital…and being so damned alone here.

  But aren’t you alone in New York, too? Face it, Gemma. You’re alone even when you’re with people. Even with your mom and your half brother and sister. At that church group Mom tried to get you involved in. With the families you photograph, all snuggled up together while you’re a few feet away. It might as well be miles.

  She couldn’t tear her gaze from Raleigh and Mia, holding hands as they headed toward the open bay. That was the biggest lie she’d told herself, that she didn’t want or need love. She walked to the open door and took a deep breath, trying to dispel that annoying voice in her head.

  “You okay?” Pax asked.

  She only nodded, afraid that if she answered he’d hear the thickness in her voice.