The Driven Series

by Bromberg, K.

  The tears come. They fall in endless streams as I blindly sink down into the chair beside the bed. I grip Colton’s hand with two of mine, my mouth pressed to our joined hands, my tears wetting his skin. I cry even harder when I realize the all too familiar Colton scent that feeds my addiction has been replaced by the antiseptic hospital smell. I didn’t realize how much I needed that scent to be there. How much I needed that small, lingering piece of the man I love to remain when everything else has changed so drastically.

  Incoherent words cross my lips and muffle against our entwined hands. “Please wake up, Colton. Please,” I sob. “You can’t leave me now. We have so much time we need to make up for, so many things that we still need to do. I need to cook you horrible dinners and you need to teach me how to surf. We need to watch the boys play little league and I need to be in the grandstands when you win a race.” The thought of him getting back in a car makes my heart lodge in my throat, but I can’t stop thinking of all the things we still have left to experience together. “We need to eat ice cream for breakfast and eat pancakes for dinner. We need to make love to each other on a lazy Sunday afternoon, and when you walk in the door, I’ll push you up against it because we just can’t get enough of each other. I haven’t had my fill of you yet …” My voice fades as I close my eyes and rest my forehead against our hands, Colton’s name a repeated prayer on my lips.

  “You know, I’ve never been as angry with him as I was last night.” Beckett’s voice jars me from my scattered focus.

  I look up through blurred eyes to see him leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest, and his eyes focused on his best friend. I know he’s not expecting a response from me—and frankly, I’m hoarse from crying so I give him the only answer I can manage, an incoherent murmur before turning back to look at Colton.

  “I’ve been pissed at him plenty of times, but last night took the cake.” Becks breathes a long, frustrated sigh, and then I hear his feet shuffle across the floor. He sits down in the chair opposite me and hesitantly reaches out to squeeze Colton’s free hand. He looks over toward his friend’s impassive face before holding my gaze across the lifeless body of the man we love. “When I knew Colton was willing to let you walk away without telling you the truth or putting up a fight...” he shakes his head in disbelief as tears swim in his eyes “...I don’t think I’ve ever been so pissed off or wanted to throw a punch at someone as much as I did when he told me to leave your room.”

  “Well, we were both being stubborn asses,” I concede, wishing that we could be back in that hotel room—repeat the day—so that we just could stop fighting and I could wrap my arms around him a little tighter, a little longer. I wish I could rewind time so I could warn Colton of what was going to happen at the track. But I know it wouldn’t matter. My reckless rebel thinks he’s invincible and would have climbed into the car anyway.

  I look back up at his face and he’s anything but invincible now. The sob rises in my throat, and I try to hold it back but fail miserably.

  “He’s so used to thinking he’s not worth any of the good fortune that’s come his way. He’s never given me specifics, but I know he thinks he doesn’t deserve any better than what he was from, wherever he came from. He thinks he’s not enough for you and—”

  “He’s everything,” I gasp, the truth in my words resonating clear within my soul.

  A ghost of a smile turns up the corners of Beckett’s mouth despite the sadness in his eyes. “I know, Rylee.” He pauses. “You’re his lifeline.”

  I lift my eyes from Colton to meet his. “I don’t know how that’s going to help him now. I left him last night after you walked out of the room,” I confess, staring again at our two hands intertwined, guilt consuming me. “After what he said to me, I kept thinking, I can’t be with him anymore under these circumstances. I thought I could stick around—help him heal everything that’s broken—but I couldn’t stand around and be cheated on, so I left.”

  “You did the right thing. He needed a taste of his own medicine. He was being an ass and was using his fear to fuel his insecurity … but he went after you, Ry. That in itself tells me he knows how much he needs you.”

  “I know.” My voice is almost a whisper and is drowned out by the incessant beep of the machines. “I’d gladly walk away from him again and never look back if it would prevent us from being here right now.”

  I say the words without any conviction because I know deep down that wherever Colton is, I would never be able to stay away from him.

  We sit for a bit, each battling our own thoughts when Becks stands abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor and shattering the antiseptic silence in the room. “This is fucking bullshit. I can’t sit and look at him like this.” His voice is thick with emotion as he starts to walk out.

  “He’s going to pull through, Becks. He has to.” My voice breaks on the last few words, betraying my confidence.

  He stops and sniffles before turning around to look at me. “That fucker is stubborn in everything he does—everything—he better not disappoint me now.” He shifts his attention to Colton and strides to the side of the bed, the grief turning into anger with each passing second. “It’s always got to be about you, doesn’t it, Wood? Self-centered bastard. When you wake the fuck up—and you will wake the fuck up because I’m not letting you go out like this—I’m going to kick your ass for making us worry.”

  He reaches his hand out and, in contradictory fashion to his gruff words, lays a hand on Colton’s shoulder for a brief moment before turning and walking out of the room.

  I’m left alone with the man I love, the weight of the unknown pressing down upon us but hope finally starting to bleed through the edges of the pain.

  I CAN FEEL THE CAR—the engine’s rumbling in my chest that tells me I’m alive—before I even see it slingshot out of the backside of the turn. I focus on my hands. They’re shaking, fucking trembling. I can’t hold onto the wheel, to my thoughts, to anything at all. The wheel shudders beneath my goddamn fingers. Fingers that can’t quite grip to control the chaos unraveling around me.

  The confidence I own in a place that’s always been my salvation is gone. Dust in the motherfucking wind.

  What the hell is going on?

  The sound of metal giving—fucking shredding—mixed with the squeal of rubber sliding across asphalt echoes all around me. Jameson’s car slams into mine. And with the impact—the jolt of my body, the theft of my thoughts—my memories crash and collide like our cars do.

  The thought of Rylee sucker punches me first.

  The bright ray of light against my goddamn darkness. The sun shining through this crash-crazed haze of smoke. The one and only exception to my fucking rule. How can I hear her sobs through my headset and yet see her doubled over in shock from a distance? Something’s messed up here. Like bat-shit crazy messed up.

  But what? How?

  And even though there’s all this smoke, I can still see her face clear as day. Violet eyes giving me something I don’t deserve—motherfucking trust. Begging me to let her in, to let her help heal the parts of me forever damaged from a past I’ll never outrun—never escape—even when slamming head first into the damn wall.

  I see my car rise above the smoke—above the goddamn fray of broken trust and useless hope—and I lose my breath and my chest feels like it’s exploding, detonating like the shrapnel of memories embedding themselves so deep in my mind I can’t quite place where they land. Even though I’m watching it, I can still feel it—the force of the spin, the strain on my muscles, the need to hold tight to the wheel. My future and past coming down all around me like a goddamn tornado as I roll out of control struggling to fight the fear and the pain I know is coming next.

  That I can’t ever escape.

  Debris scatters … on the track and in my head.

  Collateral damage for another poor fucking soul to deal with. I’ve had more than my share of it. I choke on the bile that threatens—the soul siphoning fear tha
t stabs into my psyche—because even mid-flight, when I should be free from everything, she’s still there. He’s still there. Always a constant reminder.

  Colty, when you don’t listen, you get hurt. Now go be a good boy and wait for him. When you’re naughty, naughty things happen, baby boy.

  The crunch of metal, his masculine grunt.

  The smell of destruction, his alcoholic stench.

  My body banging into the protective cage around me, his meaty fingers trying to take me, own me, claim me.

  Tell me you love me. Say it!

  I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

  I welcome the impact of the car because it knocks those words off my tongue. I can see it, feel it, hear it all at the same time as if I’m everywhere and nowhere all at once. In the car and outside of it. The resonating, unmistakable crunch of metal as I become weightless, momentarily free from the pain. Knowing that once I’ve spoken those three words only hurt can come.

  The fucking poison will eat at me piece by piece until I’m the nothing I already know I am.

  The goddamn fear will paralyze me—fucking consume me—dynamite exploding in a vacuum chamber.

  My body slams forward but my shoulder harnesses strangle me motionless, like Rylee urging me to move forward. Like the memory of him holding me back—unforgiving arms trapping me as I fight against the blackness he fills me with. Against the words he forces me to say, forever fucking up their goddamn meaning.

  The impact hits me full force—car against barrier, heart against chest, hope against demons—but all I see is Rylee stepping over the wall. All I can see is him coming at me while she’s walking away.

  “Rylee?” I call out to her. Help me. Save me. Redeem me. She doesn’t turn, doesn’t respond. All my hope is fucking lost.

  … I’m broken …

  I watch the car—feel its movement encompassing me—slowly come to a stop, the damage unknown as the darkness consumes me.

  … and so very bent …

  My final exhale of resistance—from him, for her—as the fight leaves me.

  Spiderman. Batman. Superman. Ironman.

  “We’re losing him. He’s crashing!

  … I wonder if there’s pain when you die …

  “Colton, come back. Fight goddammit!”

  MINUTES TURN INTO HOURS.

  Hours turn into days.

  Time slips away when we’ve lost too much of it as it is.

  I refuse to leave Colton’s bedside. Too many people have left him in his life, and I refuse to do it when it matters the most. So I ramble to him incessantly. I speak about nothing and everything, but it doesn’t help. He never reacts, never moves … and it kills me.

  Visitors drift in and out of his room in sporadic bouts: his parents, Quinlan, and Becks. Updates are given in the waiting room where some of the crew and Tawny still gather daily. And I have no doubt that Becks is making sure Tawny keeps her distance from me and my more than fragile emotional state.

  On the fifth day I can’t take it anymore. I need to feel him against me. I need that physical connection with him. I carefully move all the wires to the side and cautiously crawl on the bed beside him, placing my head on his chest and my hand over his heart. The tears come now with the feel of his body against mine. I find comfort in the sound of his heartbeat, strong and steady beneath my ear, instead of the electronic beep of the monitor I’ve grown to rely on as a gauge of his momentary status.

  I snuggle into him, wishing for the feel of his arm curling around me, and the rumble of his voice through his chest. Little bits of comfort that don’t come.

  We lie there for awhile and I’m fading off into the clutches of sleep when I startle awake. I swear it’s Colton’s voice that is pulling at me. Swear I hear the chant of superheroes, a tumultuous sigh on his lips. My heart races in my chest as I reacquaint myself with the foreign surroundings of his room. The only thing familiar is Colton next to me, and even that’s a small comfort to the riot in my psyche because he’s not the same either. His fingers twitch and he moans again, and even though it’s not the words that awoke me, deep down I know he’s calling to them. Asking for the help to pull him from this nightmare.

  I don’t know how to soothe him. I wish I could crawl inside of him and make him better, but I can’t. So I do the only thing I can think of, I start singing softly, his dad’s comments ringing in my ears. I thought I’d forgotten the words to the song I’d heard long ago, but they come to me easily after I struggle through the first few.

  So in this cold and sterile environment, I attempt to use lyrics to bring warmth to Colton by singing the song of his childhood: Puff the Magic Dragon.

  I don’t even realize I’ve fallen asleep until I jolt awake when I hear the squeak of shoes on the floor and look up to meet the kind eyes of the charge nurse. I can see the reprimand about to roll off the tip of her tongue but the pleading look in my eyes stops her.

  “Sweetie, you really shouldn’t be up there with him. You risk the chance of pulling a lead out.” Her voice is soft and she shakes her head when I meet her eyes. “But if you want to while I’m on shift, I promise not to tell.” She gives me a wink, and I smile gratefully at her.

  “Thank you. I just needed to …” My voice trails off because how do I put into words that I needed to connect with him somehow.

  She reaches over and pats my arm in understanding. “I know, dear. And who’s to say it won’t help pull him from his current state? Just be careful, okay?” I nod in understanding before she leaves the room.

  I’m left alone again in the darkness with the eerie glow from the machines illuminating the room. Still snuggled into his side, I angle my head up and press my lips to that favorite place of mine on the underside of his jaw. His scruff is almost a beard now, and I welcome the tickle of it against my nose and lips. I draw him in and just linger in the feel of him. The first tear slips out quietly and before I know it, the past few days come crashing down around me. I am lying holding on to the man I love—still afraid that I might lose him—overcome with every form of imaginable emotion.

  And so I whisper the only thing I can to express the fear holding my soul hostage.

  Spiderman. Batman. Superman. Ironman.

  My tears subside over time, and I slowly succumb to the clutches of sleep again.

  I awake disoriented, eyes blinking rapidly at the sunlight filtering in through the windows. Murmured voices fill my ears but the one that surprises me the most is vibrating beneath my ear.

  Awareness jolts me when I realize the rumble is Colton’s voice. In a split second my heart thunders, breath catches, and hope soars. My head dizzies as I sit up and look at the man I love, all others in the room forgotten.

  “Hi.” It’s the only word I can manage as my eyes collide with his. Chills dance over my flesh and my hands tremble at the sight of him awake and alert and aware.

  His eyes flicker over my shoulder before coming back to rest on mine. “Hi,” he rasps as my elation soars. He angles his head slightly to observe me, and even though confusion flickers over his face, I don’t care because he’s alive and whole.

  And he’s come back to me.

  I just sit there and stare at him for a moment, pulse racing and the shock of him awake robbing my words. “Iron-Ironman …” I stutter, thinking that I need to go get the doctor. I don’t want to move. I want to kiss him, hug him, never let him go again. He just looks at me as if he’s lost and understandably because he’s just woken up to a frantic mess and the only thing I say is the name of a superhero.

  I start to shove off the bed but he reaches out and grabs my wrist. “What are you doing here?” His eyes search mine asking so many questions that I’m not sure that I can answer.

  “I—I—you were in an accident,” I stutter, trying to explain. Hoping the trepidation snaking up my spine and digging its claws into my neck are just from the overload of emotions over the past few days. “You crashed during the race. Your head … you’ve been out
for a week …” My voice fades as I see his eyes narrow and his head angle to the side. I can see him trying to work through the memories in his head, so I give him the time to do that.

  His eyes glance back over my shoulder again, and it’s now that I remember there were voices in the room—more than one person—but something about the look on his face makes me afraid to look away. “Colton …”

  “You left me.” His voice is broken and heart wrenching, filled with disbelief.

  “No …” I shake my head, grabbing onto his hand as fear starts to creep into my voice. “No. I came back. We figured it out. Woke up together.” I can hear the panic escalating in my tone, can feel the pounding of my heart, the crashing descent of the hope I’d just gotten back. “We raced together.”

  He shakes his head gently back and forth with a stuttering disbelief. “No, you didn’t.” He looks back over my shoulder as he pulls his hand from mine and holds out his now free hand to the person behind me. “You left. I chased you but couldn’t find you. She found me in the elevator.” The smile I’d been silently needing, wanting to reaffirm our connection, is given … but not to me.

  The air punches from my lungs, the blood drains from my face, and a coldness seeps into every fiber of my soul as the smile I love—the one he only reserves for me—is given to the person at my back.

  “Colton couldn’t remember everything, doll.” The voice assaults my ears and breaks my heart. “So I filled him in on all of the missing pieces,” Tawny says as she comes into view, scrunching up her nose with a condescending smirk. “How you left and we reconnected.” She works her tongue in her mouth as the victorious smile grows wider, eyes gleaming, message sent loud and clear.

  I won.

  You lose.

  The bottom drops out of my world, blackness fading over my vision, and nothingness left to contend with.

  I AWAKE WITH A START. My lungs are greedy for air and my mind reaches to cling to anything real through its groggy haze. The scream on my lips dies when I realize I’m in Colton’s room, alone, with him beside me. My head is still on his chest and my arm still hooked around his waist.