by Emma Louise
“This is beautiful,” I tell him, but he doesn’t lift his head to look me in the eye. He never does. “Jared,” I call softly, waiting for him to look at me. “Thank you,” I say softly when he finally looks up. “I’m going to put this on my desk so I can look at it every single day.” His eyes meet mine, but he doesn’t smile back. He nods and moves over to wait near the other kids. He doesn’t join in with them as they talk loudly; he lingers on the periphery, watching as they goof around with each other. I can tell from the way he stares at them sometimes that he wants to be a part of the group, but he’s still finding his feet. He’s not ready to let his guard down just yet, and that’s okay. The fact that he even wants to be around them is something to be happy about. From what I've learned so far, he’s not used to being around other people. His mother kept him at home, never socializing with anyone, and he’s only just learning that there is a big world outside of the cramped, dirty apartment his mom kept him locked in.
I hope I can help him in some way because seeing him hurting like this hurts me too. I’d love nothing more than to pull him in for a hug, but I’ve been doing this long enough to know when to respect boundaries. And the ones Jared has put up to protect himself are pretty damn high.
There’s a knock at the door right before it’s pushed open. The noise level doubles as each and every one of the boys vies for Rylee’s attention. Even Jared’s somber face lights at the sight of her. She’s one of the counselors, and from what I’ve seen so far, she’s the boys favorite. She and I have become quite friendly over the last few weeks, and her easy-going ways have gone a long way to helping me feel like part of the team.
Once the boys have been shuffled out of the room and directed to clean and get their homework done, Rylee helps me pack away the art supplies that are scattered around. I catch her up on the progress of my last few sessions. She gets the written reports, but it’s good to be able to talk about things face-to-face sometimes.
“Oh here, let me give you this before I forget,” she says, turning back from the doorway and handing me a small white envelope.
“What’s this?” I ask, sliding my finger under the flap of the thick, embossed envelope.
“An invitation to a charity night Corporate Cares is holding this weekend. I meant to drop it over to you last week. Can you make it?”
“I think I can fit it in my hectic schedule.” I laugh lightly because Rylee knows I'm new to town and have no friends here at all.
“Great. It will be a good opportunity for you to get out and meet some people.”
“You sound just like my mom.” I groan.
“It’s a habit from being around these guys all the time. Not to mention my own boys at home.” She smiles, the affection for her kids clear in her voice. “So you’ll be there then?”
“I wouldn’t miss it.”
CHAPTER THREE
BROOKE
Running my hands down the satin dress that’s clinging to my body, I turn back and forth in the full-length mirror. Today is one of the days I’ve missed having Bailey here the most. Well, I miss her closet more than anything right now, if I’m being completely honest with myself.
Shopping for a black-tie event without her has been a nightmare. I even resorted to FaceTiming her from the changing room a few times just to get her opinion on dress after dress. As soon as she saw me in this dress, she told me to buy it. She refused to hang up the phone until I walked to the cashier and paid for it right there and then. Now, standing here, dressed and ready to go, I think she was right.
The mocha silk wraps around my body like a second skin. The top is held up by thin straps, but the deep V that crisscrosses over my breasts is much more revealing than I'd usually be brave enough to wear. The skirt is long, hitting my legs mid-calf, but the silk moves like water when I walk, letting one leg peek out with each step. The heels I have on are probably going to cause my feet to hurt before I even get there, but even I can see how they make my legs look long and toned.
Checking I have everything in my small clutch as I wait for the Uber to arrive, I swipe on a nude lipstick. This is my first night out in as long as I can remember, so I went all out and got my hair done at a salon. My hair is stupidly thick and long, and I could never get curls like this on my own. Even attempting it by myself would have been a waste of time.
***
“You made it!” I’ve just stepped in to the lavish ballroom when Rylee walks over to greet me. “And wow! You look incredible.” She makes me blush a little with her kind words.
“Thank you for inviting me. This place looks amazing,” I reply, looking around at the black and white decorated room. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t for the place to be so opulent. Huge tables surround a brightly-lit dance floor, each one dressed in a checkered tablecloth.
“We’ve been running these events for so many years now, I think I could organize one in my sleep.” She rolls her eyes, but it’s easy to see she really enjoys it.
We spend a few more minutes chatting as Rylee shows me around the room, explaining how the evening will go. She’s showing me to my seat when a gorgeous man approaches us and slides his arm around her waist. He pulls her back into his body and drops a kiss to her bare shoulder.
“Ryles,” he murmurs against her skin.
“Ace,” she whispers, tipping her head back to accept a kiss from him. They’re so wrapped up in each other I actually feel like I'm intruding on a private moment. I’m about to slip away to give them some privacy when Rylee reaches out for my hand.
“Ace, this is Brooke. She’s the new art therapist I was telling you about. Brooke, this is my husband, Colton.” Pride shines in her eyes as she introduces us.
He reaches out to shake my hand, but I’m kind of busy gawking at how beautiful this man is. I should be embarrassed because he’s my friend’s husband, but I get the feeling she’s used to it. You’d have to be used to it, being married to a man who looks like he walked off a Hollywood movie set. There’s something about him that’s vaguely familiar, but I’m sure I wouldn’t forget meeting a man like this before. He's not someone you’d easily forget.
“It’s good to finally meet you. My wife speaks very highly of you.”
“Thank you,” I finally manage to get out, proud of myself for not melting into a puddle at his feet. “I love working with Rylee and the boys.”
We’re soon interrupted by another couple who are introduced as Beckett and Haddie. I’m quickly becoming intimidated by how gorgeous all these people are. I’m offered a drink by a passing waiter, and soon enough I feel myself relaxing into the conversations going on around me. It’s obvious from the easy way they are with each other that they’ve been close for a long time.
A few drinks later we’re seated at a large round table at the front of the room, and I’m grateful to see that Rylee has a seat reserved for me next to her. I’m okay with being alone most of the time, but the thought of having to sit with strangers is not all that appealing.
“Donavan,” a rotund man approaches the table and slaps Colton lightly on the shoulder. “That was some race last weekend. Your boys are not messing around this season.”
Nobody around me pays any attention to the newcomer; they’re all too busy with their own conversations, but something about what they’re saying holds my attention. Snippets of things come back to me. Thoughts move around my mind like a broken puzzle sliding together.
He called him Donavan. Colton Donavan. Where have I heard that name before? I wrack my brain trying to work it out.
Heat rushes to my face as realization sets in. I might have spent the last ten years avoiding all things motor racing related, but I should have remembered Colton freaking Donavan. Memories of watching his races with my dad and Tucker rush through my mind.
Tucker. The one thing I've been running from.
“I’m going to be an even better driver than him one day,” he would say, never taking his eyes off the screen as he watched intently
, engrossed in the cars flying around the track.
Tears fill my eyes as the unwanted memories assault me, one after another. All I see is the way his face would light up as he talked about how he was going to be the best the racing world had seen. Even as a starry-eyed teenager, I believed him. Believed in him.
I need to get out of here before I lose the battle with my escalating emotions. Snatching my bag from the table, I push to my feet. I don’t stop to say goodbye to anyone, glad that they’re all too absorbed in their own conversations to notice me leaving.
I’m pushing my way through the door when a hand wraps around my elbow, gently pulling me to a stop.
“Brooke, are you okay?” Rylee asks softly, concern pulling her brows down into a deep frown.
“I’m so sorry,” I try to speak past the lump in my throat. “I need to go.”
“Did something happen? Did someone do something to you?” Her concern is another hit to my frayed nerves. Why am I being like this? Why am I not strong enough to face the memories?
“No!” I gasp, pissed at myself for causing a scene like this. “It’s nothing like that. I'm fine. I just really need to go.”
Rylee must hear the desperation in my voice because her face softens, and her grip eases. She opens her mouth to say something, but a deep, rasping voice beats her to it.
“Let her go, Rylee.” The words are a hot rasp, hardly audible over the raucous laughter coming from the party that’s still going on around us. “Running away is what she does best; isn’t that right, Brooke?”
CHAPTER FOUR
TUCKER
“I can’t believe I let Rylee talk me into this shit,” I grumble, yanking at the restrictive tie I was forced to wear tonight. I already can’t wait to get home and get out of this shit.
“Have you ever successfully said no to my mom?” Zander chuckles as he passes me another bottle of beer.
“That is true.” I grin, leaning back on the bar and taking a long drink from the cold bottle in my hand. “We better get to the table before she comes looking for us.” I can’t say I enjoy these events, but I know how much it means to the Donavans, so I try to keep my complaints to a minimum. I just wish they were less formal; this tie feels like it’s choking me.
There’s a commotion near the door that catches my attention just before I get to my seat. All I can see is a blonde head dipped low and Rylee standing close by. I’m too far away to hear what’s being said, but for some reason my feet start moving in their direction anyway. I can’t seem to stop myself. I don’t seem to want to stop myself.
Unease creeps up my spine as I move closer. There’s something about that blonde hair, the slope of the shoulder, the delicate line of her arm.
There's something familiar about every inch of her, and it’s not because she’s one of the many who have warmed my bed over the years.
No.
I don’t need her to turn around for me to know exactly who it is that’s standing within touching distance for the first time in ten years.
I don’t need to see her face.
Turn around, Tucker. Walk the fuck away because there is nothing good that can come of seeing her again.
“I'm fine. I just really need to go.” God. Just the sound of her soft, velvet voice is like a red-hot poker straight through my gut. Longing fills the gaping hole it leaves behind. But somehow, her soft words wrap around me like a damned comfort blanket. How many nights have I been woken up by that voice haunting me in my dreams?
“Let her go, Rylee. Running away is what she does best. Isn’t that right, Brooke?” Fuck. I’m furious at the pain I hear in my own voice. I have to force the words out because the fucked-up thing is I don’t mean them. I don’t want Rylee to let her go. I want to drag her out of here myself to ask her why? Why she left me all those years ago? How come she was able to walk away so easily, leaving me wondering where it all went so wrong?
She doesn’t turn to look at me, but Rylee does.
“Tucker?” She stares at me, confusion on her face. “What do you-”
“It’s fine, Rylee. I’ll give you a call in a few days. Thank you for a wonderful evening,” Brooke all but whispers. I can hear the tears in her voice, but I don’t say anything as she scurries away, never once stopping to look back at me as she pushes past people in her rush to leave.
It doesn’t surprise me that she didn’t even look my way, but it still stings like a bitch. Ignoring Rylee’s questions, I follow Brooke outside. Her hurried steps clatter through the deserted foyer. She bursts through the doors, no longer caring about keeping up the façade she had up inside.
I stop following when I see the cab waiting outside. I stop following, but I don’t stop watching. She’s changed. It’s been a long time since I saw her last, and she’s definitely not the same little girl she was at eighteen. She leans in, asking the driver something, and I allow myself one last look at her and the woman she grew up to be.
She moves to open the door, and I know she feels me watching. She uses her thick hair as a guard to shield against my hard stare. She doesn’t look up, not once, but my eyes never leave her. The cab is almost out of sight when she finally looks through the window, and I get the first good look at the woman who broke my heart all those years ago.
I keep watching until the lights of the cab have long since faded into the distance. The last thing I want to do is go back into the party, my head is spinning with everything that has just happened. It takes effort, but I somehow manage to drag myself away from the door. Ignoring the enquiring stares from everyone that just witnessed whatever the hell that was with Brooke, I make my way back to Zander, finding him seated at a table with his parents.
“Why is my mom looking at you like she wants to kill you?” Zander asks, as I drop into the vacant seat next to him. I throw back the glass of bourbon the waiter just dropped off before answering.
“I have no idea,” I lie. I should have left right after Brooke. There’s no point sitting here when I'm oblivious to everything that’s happening around me, but I can’t face it. I can’t face being at home with nothing but my thoughts. No, staying here and getting blackout drunk seems like a much better idea.
“Nothing to do with the hot blonde from earlier then?” he tries to goad a reaction out of me, and I have to bite my damn tongue to stop myself from responding. “You can talk to me; you know that, right?”
“Appreciate the concern, man, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I cut him off, then push my chair out and walk away. I don’t stop to say goodbye to anyone, my head too full of shit to make small talk.
I make sure to drop off a large donation before leaving. I’ll call Rylee tomorrow to apologize. Right now, I just need to get out of here. Pulling my phone out, I scroll though the contacts, looking for someone to help me forget this night ever happened.
CHAPTER FIVE
TUCKER
“I’m going to marry you one day, Tucker Neal.”
The memory slowly fades as I open my eyes, but it takes me a second to realize it was a dream. Brooke isn’t here in this bed with me. She’s not curled up at my side as we lay in the back of my shitty old truck, gazing at the stars.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I contemplate turning over and going back to sleep for the rest of the day. It’s only the thought of more dreams about Brooke that stops me. My head thumps relentlessly, telling me I need to get up, get showered, and get out of here. I need to find something to get my mind off her and the barrage of memories that are on a constant loop in my mind. There’s only one place I can think to go that will accomplish that.
By the time I'm pulling up to the track a few hours later, my head has finally stopped spinning. Judging by the empty bottle of Jack I found in my kitchen this morning, I’m lucky my hangover isn’t worse. I definitely got off lightly.
“You pissed Rylee off last night.” I’m running on the treadmill in the gym, waiting for my track time when Colton finds me.
“I alre
ady sent her flowers to apologize,” I tell him, not slowing my pace.
“You think that will be enough?” he laughs. “Do you not know my wife at all?”
Did I ever think I'd be here? Living my dream, getting to work with my idol, driving race cars every day?
Never.
I wanted it, and I worked damned hard to get it, but it was still a dream I never really thought would come true.
I also never thought there would be a day I was tempted to tell Colton to fuck off and leave me alone, yet here we are. I don’t want to talk to him or anyone else about last night. I want to pretend it never happened. That I wasn't flayed alive by the sight of Brooke fucking Nash standing in front of me, looking like a damn goddess draped in gold silk.
“Can we not do this today?” I ask. Or any other day, I add on mentally. I slow the machine to a walk and grab a towel from the handrail.
“I’m not pushing you to talk about anything, just so long as you know our door is always open, day or night, Tuck,” he says, dropping a hand to my shoulder and giving a quick squeeze before he leaves.
I don’t feel the relief I expected when the door slams shut behind him. As much as I wanted him to leave, a part of me kind of wishes he’d come back. I’m not ready to be alone. The silence isn’t good for my fucked-up head. There are too many thoughts running riot up there today.
***
The rest of my day has sucked. So much so that I find myself picking up another bottle of Jack on my way home. I need to get a better handle on my feelings, but until I work out how to do that, getting too drunk to think is going to have to be my go-to coping mechanism.
It doesn’t take long to realize my plan appears to have been a failure, because the more I drink, the more she invades my thoughts. Her pretty as fuck face is front and center, no matter what I do.
The day she left me and all the reasons why are burned into my brain. I was a kid, a stupid kid who thought I was invincible. The first time I went to a street race, I was fifteen-years-old and thought all my dreams had come true. I was already a huge fan after years of watching the races on TV, but seeing it right there in front of me made me realize that was what I was meant to do with my life. The loud revving engines was music to my ears, the smell of gasoline and motor oil was intoxicating. I hadn’t done it, but I could imagine how it would feel to have my hands wrapped around that steering wheel as I pushed a car to its limits. I craved to feel that power, that control.
