by Emilia Finn
“Chuck?” My stomach drops straight out of my ass. “Since when do you call me Chuck?”
“Everybody calls you Chuck,” she argues. “All of your friends.”
“But not you.” I place a hand on the small of her back and hold her to me so she has to look up to meet my eyes. “You call me Tucker, because you’re not just my friend. You’re not just some chick I see in the street sometimes, and honk my horn at.”
“I’m your neighbor.” She lifts her chin, proud and stubborn. “You’re my noisy neighbor.”
“I’m Tucker, and I’m in love with you!” I lean down and press a dry kiss to her lips. “I want to come back here when I’m done tonight. I want to come to your bed and stroke your back while you sleep, and when your nightmares try to hurt you, I want to be able to chase them away.”
“I can’t… We’re not…” She huffs. “I’m not trying to fight with you right now. I said go, have fun, be safe. I’m letting you go, Tucker. Because you’re the wild, loud, outgoing guy that loves to party, and I’m…” She shakes her head. “I’m not that girl. I can’t be who you need. We’ve had fun,” she whimpers. “We really did. But I can’t sit at home every weekend while you race. My heart.” She presses a hand to her chest. “I can’t take it.”
“So come with me,” I change tacks. “Come to the track, I’ll literally hold your hand the whole time. I won’t let you go, and if anyone wants to get too close, I’ll deck them.”
“Tucker, no. I can’t—”
“Come with me, and I’ll prove it’s not as scary as you think. They’re just engines, Nora. They’re just drivers. They’re just people, same as you and me.”
From scared to angry, she tries to pull away. “I will not be coming out there with you! You’ve lost your damn mind, Tucker. Do you even know me at all?”
“I think you’re the one who doesn’t know you,” I push. “I think you’ve categorized yourself, just like those kids in school. You’ve plopped yourself in the scared girl lane since your sister was hurt. You cruised in that lane for a little while, and that was fine. It was good, because it was the peace you needed to heal. But now you’re trying to grow, you’re trying to push that ceiling up, and I’m trying to help you. But then your inner voice says nope, you’re scared. Scared Nora doesn’t do things like that.”
“I’m not going to the effing racetrack with you. There is absolutely no chance of that happening.”
“Girls go out to Piper’s Lane every damn weekend. It’s not as dangerous as you think.”
“Those girls…” She meets my eyes – fiery, hot, but sparkling. “You want to spend time with them?”
“Obviously not, since I’m asking you to come with me.”
“But they’re braver, aren’t they?” Her eyes dance under unshed tears. “They’re beautiful and daring, sexy, and willing to have fun.”
“And you’re smart and beautiful. You’re braver than you think, and stronger than any other girl I’ve met in my life. You shove yourself into a box, Nora, but you don’t realize you outgrew that box a long time ago.”
“And you’re insisting on riding a deathtrap for fun, spitting in the faces of your family who died in an auto accident!”
I stumble back like her words are a jab.
My mom’s face flashes through my mind, beautiful, youthful, and sweet. Then blood flickers into the picture. It’s like a damaged file, flickering back and forth between the two. Smiling, young, perfect… and then blood.
Nora bursts into tears when I trip backwards from her strike. “Oh my god. Just leave, Tucker!”
“If racing is spitting in their faces,” I growl, “then cowering beneath the blankets every damn night could be considered the same. My family died, and I’m busy living my life to prove that it wasn’t a complete waste. Your sister died, but you act like you went down with her.”
“Leave.” She pushes me back with rough shoves. “Leave! No, you cannot come back here tonight, and no, we won’t have breakfast together tomorrow. Just leave, Tucker. Go and enjoy your party girls, your racing and danger just so you can feel alive for a minute. And I’ll stay here and respect my sister enough not to risk the gift I’ve been given.”
“You’re a fuckin’ coward,” I grit through my teeth. “And you justify it by saying your sister would approve.” I lean back in so our faces are just an inch apart. “I call bullshit. You’re a liar, and you’re a coward. And I still fucking love you anyway.” I spin away when tears race along her cheeks, and slam the door as I move into the hall.
My instincts insist I go back to her, carry her pain, and apologize that the world hurts her, because I know that she lashes out when she’s scared.
She’s terrified right now, and because I love her, it’s my job to fix it.
But instead, I stomp on her pain and rub it in her face.
My heart and brain insist I go back to her, scoop her up, and take her to the couch so we can watch a movie, but my watch insists I move my ass and go to the tracks. I’m going to be late if I don’t haul ass, and if I’m late, then this entire fucking argument will have been for nothing.
I skip down the stairs and dig my hands into my pockets in search of keys, then, pushing into the darkness outside, I swing my leg over my bike, and send the engine roaring.
I had two weeks off. I let a lot of money go in exchange for time with a beautiful woman, but now I have to get back to work.
I slam my helmet down over my head, and kick the stand up. Walking the bike backwards, I try to ignore Nora standing in the window of 4A, staring down at me like I broke her fucking heart.
“Sack up, Chuck,” I scold myself. “Go to work.”
Kicking the bike into gear, I straighten out and roll toward the driveway leading out of the parking lot.
Nora
“We just had a really big fight.” I walk laps into my carpet, and press the phone to my ear so hard that it hurts. “I was really mean to him.”
Sonia is the sweetest, kindest, most calming woman I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing. She takes my call on a Friday night, makes no mention that this is clearly out of office hours. She merely excuses herself from a room where a TV drones in the background, and now she’s somewhere quieter, more private.
“You felt like your world was spinning out of control again,” she explains in her calm tone. “He invited you somewhere that scared you, to do something that scares you, and because it felt like he was stealing your control, you lashed out.”
“Yes.” I drop down on the edge of my couch, and cuddle Galileo when he steps between my legs. “Yes, because he’s going to do something dangerous, somewhere dangerous, in the dark.” I look to the window. “It’s dark out, Sonia.”
“He says what he does is safe?”
“Yes. He says it’s safe. He says that he’s never been hurt or anything, but the thought of him… What if…? No, I can’t…”
“You should ask him to quit for you.”
My heart thumps to a painful stop. “What?”
“Why not?” she questions much too calmly. “Then you don’t have to be scared anymore.”
“This is terrible advice!” I burst out. “You say I’m always trying to control things. But asking him to quit is taking that control to the next level. Are you drunk?”
She only laughs, and actually sips something. “Just on tea, dear. And yes, you do try to control everything.”
“I can’t ask him to quit! We’re not even together. That’s insane.”
“Oh,” she murmurs with a smile in her voice. “See now, that’s interesting.”
“What’s interesting?”
Whenever I speak to this woman, I expect that my mental health issues can be solved like math questions. Like, if she just gave the right answer, everything would suddenly be fixed.
“That you’re not together. The way I see it, you and Mr. Morris are quite friendly, no?”
“Yes. We spend time together and stuff, but—”
“
You haven’t gone to bed together?”
“Yes, we have, but…” I shake my head. “Yes.”
“So why aren’t you together?”
“I…” I swallow. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You’ve been intimate with him, you clearly have feelings for him. So why, when it comes up, is your instinctual answer that you’re not in a relationship with him?”
“I… because… I don’t know.”
“Are you calling for my professional opinion, Nora? Or a friend to chat to?”
“Can’t it be both? Can’t you analyze me, but add a few there-theres, and oh dears every now and again?”
Laughing softly, she brings her tea back to her lips and takes a sip. Then, when she sets the china back down with a soft clink, she clears her throat in that way she does in her office. “You say you can’t ask him to quit—”
“I can’t control him like that.” I shake my head. “No way.”
“Hush, I was speaking.” When I sit up with a soft gasp, she adds, “There-there, dear. You won’t ask him to quit, and you act like you’re some kind of martyr for that selflessness. But by not asking him, you’re still controlling the situation.”
“What?” My face scrunches in confusion. “How does that even make sense?”
“You’re keeping your distance,” she explains in her infuriatingly calm voice. “If he keeps racing, and you refuse to declare your relationship as something more, then you’re controlling how close he’s allowed to get to you. By giving up control on one thing, you’re actually scooping up control on everything else.”
“That’s not true! If I asked him to stop, we’d be sitting on my couch right now, together, and I wouldn’t be feeling sick to my stomach with anxiety.”
“But would you?” I hate the smile I see in my head. I hate that she can be so calm when my world is spinning. “Would he have quit?”
“I…” I frown. “I don’t know.”
“Exactly! You have no clue if he’d quit, so it’s easier to not ask and instead claim martyrdom, than it is to risk him saying no.”
“You’re wrong. That’s not what I’m doing.”
“You’ve had sex with men in the past, Nora, and it was just a physical act. There were no feelings, no anxiety, no control issues, because it was simply a physical exchange. But now you have feelings for Mr. Morris. What if you allow yourself to dive in, and you fell in love?”
I am in love!
“Once you admit to love, you lose control,” she says in my silence.
“You’re reaching,” I choke out. “You’re projecting.”
“I’m chatting with my girlfriend,” she counters. “And my girlfriend is stubborn and needs control, or she makes herself sick with the what-ifs.”
“What do you suggest I do?” I explode. “What? I refuse to ask him to stop. He clearly loves it, so asking him to quit is like the kiss of death for a relationship that hasn’t even begun yet.”
“So you admit to wanting a relationship with Mr. Morris?”
“No! Shut up. I just—”
She laughs. “You’re young, healthy, and a teeny tiny bit in love.”
“Teeny tiny?” My brow wings up. “Is that doctor-speak, or…?”
“You’re also sassy when you’re mad, but mad is better than scared. Take that energy, try to relax. When he comes home tonight, maybe you could meet him in the hall and explain that you’re scared, but that you would like to work with him to come to an agreement.”
“Are we starting a business together,” I drawl, “or having sex?”
She laughs. “I was actually discussing a relationship built on trust, but if you’ve got sex on the brain…”
“You’re the worst,” I huff. “I can’t ask him to stop racing, Sonia. I just… can’t. That would be like him asking me to rehome Galileo.”
“No one said you have to ask him to stop,” she murmurs. “You could join him there, you know. You’re allowed to go to this place and support him in his sport.”
“No, I…” The color drains from my face at the thought of being at an outside party in the dark. All of those people, all of that noise. The danger of speeding cars, but worse, the danger of strangers in a crowd. “No, I couldn’t…” I shake my head. “I can’t.”
“Which is precisely how you’re still controlling this situation. You can’t ask him to quit, but you also can’t go there to be with him. Which means there is this huge part of his life you can’t be a part of. And because you can’t be a part of it, you refuse to step across that line and admit you have feelings for him.”
After hanging up with my not-at-all-helpful therapist, I sit back on my couch and sigh.
I’m exhausted. This constant need to be on guard, this permanent fight or flight – except my fight button is broken, so I use all of my energy running away.
I lay my head back against the couch and close my eyes, but when my phone vibrates, my heart skips with the hope that it’s Tucker calling.
I bring it up like a whip, swipe my thumb over the screen with a grin, but as I bring the device to my ear, my brain catches up and douses my excitement.
“Jay? Are you okay?”
His gritty chuckle vibrates through the earpiece. “I was calling to ask you the same thing.”
“Oh…” My chest literally empties of all oxygen. “The cameras in the hall?”
He grunts, like maybe he’s sitting back on the couch. “We watch The Chronicles of Chuck and Nora’s Hallway every day now. It’s better than anything on regular TV, what with how you’re always shouting at each other. He slams his fist on your door and drags you down the stairs so fast that the guys have considered dropping mattresses on each landing just in case you trip.”
“He won’t let me trip. He promised.”
“Then there are the times he kisses you at your door.”
I can’t help the way my lips curl up. I press a hand to my stomach to stave the nerves and silly flutters. “He’s a good kisser.”
“He picks you up, and carries you into your apartment, which means a dozen men have to turn away from their security monitors, baby girl. You aren’t sixteen anymore, and he doesn’t use the kiddie gloves with you. It’s kinda hot.”
“He’s rough,” I smile. “And crude. And strong. And challenging, and…”
“He wants to eat you up.” He chuckles. “I gotta say, that man has more willpower than I do.”
“He does?”
“Oh yeah,” he scoffs. “I got into Soph’s panties within like…” He takes a moment to consider. “Thirty-seven seconds after meeting her. Poor Chuck waited eons for you to give the green light.”
“That’s a lie,” I laugh. “And it’s rude of you to discuss your sex life with someone other than Soph.”
“She’s right here,” he protests. “She can hear me.” Finally, he turns serious. “Chuck knocked on your door tonight…”
I clear my throat. “Yes, he did.”
“But he left again, after you shouted at each other, and the door was slammed shut.”
“We had a fight,” I whisper. I hate how my voice cracks. How my eyes itch. “He went out to Piper’s Lane tonight, and I panicked a little.”
“So you talked shit about his dead family?”
Chuck
What Ifs
“Dude!” Bryan Kincaid slaps my shoulder and tries to pull me around. “You’re up in ten. You need to focus!”
“I’m just…” My heart pounds as I try to call her. I lean against the hood of Bry’s car and dial over and over again. “I need to make a call.”
“She’s fine!” He claps my cheek and brings my eyes up. “She’s fine! She’s at home, she was behind a locked door when you left. And she’s mad at you. Of course she’s not gonna take your call!”
“But she took someone’s call! Her line was busy for ages. Now it’s not busy, but she’s ignoring me.”
“You need to relax.” The beautiful woman under Bry’s arm – Madd
i – touches my shoulder in comfort.
Bry’s not here to race tonight, or at all, since he quit, but that doesn’t mean they don’t come out to watch every now and then. I think Bry gets off on folks begging him to race them. He’s the elusive Kincaid, the one they all want to beat, and he quit before they got their chance. He’s the one that got away, and it burns them that he’s so close, yet unwilling to roll up to the line.
“She’s fine,” Maddi murmurs, “and Manda says you need to be on the line in ten minutes, or you forfeit.”
“But what if the call she took was an emergency?” I hit dial again. “What if something happened to her mom or dad? She doesn’t talk to them very much anymore, but they’re still around. They’re still her parents. Or what if it was something else, and she needed to go out? It’s dark, Bry, and maybe she needs me to take her somewhere. Instead, I’m here, racing a stupid fucking bike for fun.”
“A stupid bike?” Bry gasps. “Stupid? Boy, this stupid bike was your baby not so long ago. A girl comes along, and suddenly it’s stupid?”
“If the building caught on fire, maybe she’d be too afraid to run outside into the dark.” Every single worst-case scenario that could possibly happen runs through my mind. “She might have frozen up and gone to bed instead.” I meet his eyes, beg for him to understand. “She hides when she’s scared, Bry. So maybe she went to bed and hoped I’d come back and grab her.” My heart feels like it might explode from worry. “I told her I’d always keep her safe. Now the building’s on fire, she’s huddled in bed, and I’m over here, racing fucking bikes.”
“Wow.” His dark eyes widen as he studies me. “That was… wow. That was a huge fucking hypothetical, Tuck.”
“But it’s possible!” I explode. “She counts on me to keep her safe, but I shouted at her. I fucking shouted at her, left her there, and now the building is burning.”
“You’ve lost the fucking plot,” he chuckles. “Do you hear fire trucks? Do you hear anything on the radio about a fire in town?”