Dirt Driven (Racing on the Edge Book 11)

by Shey Stahl

  Breathing in a ragged breath, he nodded but no words followed.

  And then I realized what this was. “You’d leave her for me if I said I wanted you back, wouldn’t you?”

  Again, no words. Swallowing thickly, he sighed. He stared deep into my eyes, like he was trying to communicate something to me, but I refused.

  “You haven’t changed.” Twisting around, I began to walk away, but then stopped. “By the way, your son…” Pausing, I watched his face pale. “He’s five. When’s his birthday?”

  He shook his head but didn’t have it in him to say the words.

  “I knew you were too much of a pussy to give me the truth.”

  He was staring at me now, tight jaw, pain in his eyes. “February,” he finally said, stepping back away from me. Our eyes met and what passed between us was closure for me and I didn’t know what from him.

  Breathing through my nose, I closed my eyes. We filed for separation in March of that year. “So while you were making me feel like shit for traveling with the Outlaws, and my friendship with Rager, you were sleeping with your assistant and the model.”

  His eyes dropped to the pavement and I flashed back to the night he told me he slept with the model he’d been seen with during our marriage. The infidelity he didn’t admit to until after he asked for a divorce.

  Easton regarded me with uncertainty, my face the focus of his indiscretion. Chewing on the words, his brow scrunched, eyes glazing over with what looked like tears threatening. He was about to admit to me what he’d done. I knew it. “I slept with her.”

  He slept with her?

  HE SLEPT WITH HER?

  His lips parted and he heaved in a long-winded breath, then blew it out slowly, gearing up for what he never intended on telling me. “The night Jack died. We were at an event for Atry in Darlington.” His voice sounded gritty, like someone whose knees hit the dirt and was begging for nothing but an opportunity. Only that sound didn’t belong to him, wasn’t his style. “She didn’t even know I was married at the time. I was lonely after the win that night, couldn’t get a hold of you, and it went from there.”

  His answer shattered my heart because of the day.

  Why then? Why?

  My hand connected with his cheek.

  My palm red, his cheek matching. Silence spread throughout… I had his attention, clear to do with it what I wanted, say what I wanted, take back this lie and leave him with reality. I didn’t have to go along with this, and he knew it, right then, the evidence on his blazing cheek.

  His brow furrowed and then his chest heaved in a heavy breath, just as mine did.

  My thoughts felt numb, noises around me too loud to decipher where they were coming from. “Was that the only time?”

  Say yes. Don’t do this to me.

  “No….”

  Who are you? Did you even love me, ever?

  His answer shattered my breathing into gasping, because of the realization. He wasn’t who I thought he was. “When?”

  Setting the bottle down on the counter, he didn’t look at me as he slid his hands into his pockets of his jeans, his head hanging low. His lips parted and I knew it was coming, the answer, the devastation that he wasn’t who I thought he was. “I slept with her again after the win at Homestead.”

  You’ve destroyed any love I had remaining for you.

  “And then you asked for a divorce,” I deduced, closing my eyes as I delivered the words through tight lips.

  He gave me a moment to ask more, accuse, react, and then he nodded, muscles in his jaw locked.

  You son of a bitch. You were cheating on me and made me feel like the one who caused this.

  I didn’t think hearing that he cheated on me would hurt. But it did. I wanted to ask him about it, demand details I deserved to know.

  “How many others have there been?”

  His eyes cut to mine, a sideways glance that was brief. “Just her.”

  Blinking out of the memory, I held back a sigh, biting back so much. And then I was angry. Fucking pissed. “That’s why I didn’t stop Rager from beating the shit out of you tonight. You deserved it.” With my heart in my throat and my entire body shaking, I walked away from him and into the arms of the man I should have been with the entire time I had been married to Easton.

  Cogging Torque – A measure of non-uniform velocity (e.g., jerkiness, momentary stalling, slipping.)

  Have you ever watched teams leave the track after a race? The team guys jetted out of there. As soon as that checkered flag dropped, they were on a mission to get the fuck out of there and to the nearest car wash. From there, it was the next city.

  Though we all traveled with the teams, our jobs after the race were entirely different. The drivers had to stick around and sign autographs, greet fans, and finish up with post-race interviews. And leaving for Outlaw teams meant loading up the merchandise trailers to the motor homes, getting on the road, putting kids to bed around midnight or sometimes one in the morning and then relaxing as we drove to the next city.

  “You got room.”

  Rager stuck his head out of the window, a scowl plastered on his face. “It doesn’t look like it on the camera.”

  “Are you going to believe me or the camera? I’m standing here looking at it and you have about ten feet!” I yelled over the diesel engine of our forty-foot luxury motor coach we called home these days. And yeah, it was nice, but somedays, it was like being stuck in a cracker box and the walls were closing in.

  With the light of the streetlamps above us, I squinted in the distance to see Knox and Hudson on Rager’s lap, both trying to steer the motor home with him and him yelling for Rosa to grab them.

  “He’s gonna hit the—” Casten’s words fell away about the same time Rager hit the edge of the picnic table. “Table,” Casten finished.

  I glared at Casten, squinting my eyes so hard they were nearly slits. “You were supposed to stop him.”

  Appearing offended, he arched an eyebrow at me. “I did. I said, he’s gonna hit the table. What more am I supposed to say?”

  “What was that?” Rager yelled out the window.

  “Nothing,” we both answered.

  Casten scratched the side of his head, adjusting his JAR Racing hat. “Why would they put a table right there? It’s in the middle of fucking nowhere.”

  “No idea.” Motioning for him to help me, we moved it out of the way.

  It took another twenty minutes before we had all four of the merchandise trailers hooked up and heading out of the pits. I put the kids down for bed as we drove down the highway, made Rager a plate of pizza rolls and then sat next to him in the puffy white captain chair.

  Silence hummed through the motor home, the only sounds, the road noise and the even breathing of the one beside me. I hadn’t told him about the picnic table and the scratch now in the side of our motorhome, but he’d know eventually. I would blame in on Casten.

  Finally, an hour into our drive, Rager asked, “Do you still think of him?”

  “What?” I glanced over at him, surprised by the question. Shifting in my seat, I looked over my shoulder at the darkness behind us in the motor home. Our kids, fast asleep in their beds.

  “You heard me.” His eyes shifted from the road to mine, the passing of a semi-truck lighting up the space between us.

  Fear knotted inside my chest. Not that I was scared of him or the question asked. But fearing why he asked it, tonight of all nights. “I know I heard you. I’m surprised you asked it.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “You loved him.”

  “Loved. As in, not anymore.”

  I heard him swallow, his breathing heavier than before. “Still.”

  “I don’t think of him. At least not in a good way.”

  Rager lifted his eyes from the road. “Okay.”

  Okay? “Does it bother you?”

  “He will always bother me in a sense. He had you first.”

  I snorted and reached for the package of Skittles I’d
picked up at the last gas stop. “Technically Ricky Hagen did, but whatever.”

  A growl trembled from his lips. “Enough.”

  “You brought it up.”

  His hands gripped the steering wheel tighter. “And I’m finishing it. You’re mine now. Always.” One hand slipped off the wheel and to mine. Bringing it to his lips, he pressed a kiss to my knuckles. “Always.”

  For a moment, I put myself in Rager’s position. How would I have felt if he had been married to someone else? The mere thought of it sent a wave of anxiety through me. Threading my fingers in his thick dark hair, unwilling to imagine him with someone else, I sighed. “I love you.”

  With a smirk, he nodded south. “You could show me how much you love me.”

  “Cute.” The last time I tried that, the kids woke up and Pace wanted to know why I had my head in Daddy’s lap. Never again. “But not happening.”

  He shrugged one shoulder, a playful smile tugging at his beautiful full lips. “A guy could dream.”

  I stared at him, his sharp scruffy jawline, the mess of hair he kept on top of his head and the set frown on his lips. “Easton cheated on me more than once.”

  Rager’s jaw tightened and his eyes drifted to mine. No words followed.

  A moment ticked by and I realized Rager had known that all along. I licked my lips and blinked slowly, deciding on what I was going to say. I shifted in the chair. “You knew, didn’t you?”

  He nodded, watching me carefully. His black hair fell into those gorgeous blue eyes women—including me—obsessed over.

  “Why didn’t you say anything to me? How long have you known?”

  He blinked at me a couple times. “It wasn’t really my place to say. And I didn’t want you choosing me because he fucked up. I wanted you to choose me because I was who you wanted all along.”

  I chewed on his words for a moment. I could understand why he didn’t say anything at the time, but since then, why not? “Easton and I have been divorced for four years now. Why not say something sooner?”

  He raised a questioning eyebrow and reached for the bottle of water in the cup holder. “Does it really matter now?” he asked, almost softly.

  I stared at the road, afraid to look at him now. My heart thudded in my ears, silencing out the road noise. “I guess not, but still, for my own peace of mind I’d like to know.”

  “Do you remember that weekend in Charlotte when you came to watch the Outlaws race the same weekend NASCAR was in town?”

  “Yeah… I caught Easton with Olivia and Shaylee that weekend.”

  His voice lowered, as did his head, as if what he was about to say, wasn’t going to be easy. Mentally, I tried to prepare myself. “Yeah, well, I caught them before you. After the race I helped your dad deliver some parts to the NASCAR garage. When I went inside the hauler, Easton and Olivia were in there.” Sighing, he shook his head and gave me the truth I should have known all along. And maybe I did, but just didn’t want to see it. “They were going at it against the wall. They didn’t see me and I left right after that.”

  “Easton didn’t sleep with us.” Were the first words out of Olivia’s mouth.

  Part of me knew that. But I wanted to hear what she had to say.

  Lexi glared at Olivia. “You should have said that to her back in May.”

  “I know that. I’m sorry,” she admitted, but her expression was off. “We waited until he was shit-faced and then went back to his motor coach and let ourselves in knowing you would find us there.”

  “Why?” Lexi was doing most of the talking. I never had to do much when she was around. It was kind of nice.

  Olivia’s eyes landed on mine. For the first time, I saw sadness in hers. “I was pissed at you for Rager.”

  “Rager?” I asked, stunned by that response. I was lost at that point and she knew it. As she started to speak, it made sense.

  “He won’t move on from you.” Her voice was timid. “I’ve tried to get him to.”

  It all went back to that. “So you thought you’d destroy my perfect life?” My words were sarcastic, just as they were meant to be.

  “Yeah.” You could tell immediately she knew how stupid that response was.

  I laughed. “I got news for you. My life is far from perfect.” I kind of lost it at that point. “You guys think my life is fucking perfect and yeah, I have a life that people only dream of but there’s a side you’ll never see, and probably don’t want to.”

  She lied to me that day. I wasn’t surprised by that either, but my heart hurt. A sharp stabbing pain that seemed to twist and pull all at once. Not because I still loved Easton, or that Rager hadn’t said anything sooner. It hurt because I wasted six years of my life with Easton when if I’d just looked at who was in front of me the whole time, I would have been happier.

  Silence hummed through the cab again as I stared out at the passing cars. Each headlight blurred more and before I knew it, I was crying. Hundreds of images flashed in my head. Ones of me constantly walking away from Rager over the years and to Easton. Why had I done that?

  I wasn’t sure if it was appropriate but Rager hugged me. His arms tightened around me, his lips at my ear. “He fucks up again and I’ll be waiting. Let that be a reminder for him to treat you right. And I’ll tell him that if I see him again.”

  That night, I should have listened. I should have stayed.

  Rager reached for my hand that rested on my thigh. “Honey, I didn’t tell you that to upset you. Fuck, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “No.” I waved him off, swiping my fingertips over my cheeks. “It’s fine. I’m just sad because I wasted so much time with him and I shouldn’t have.”

  His hand squeezed mine. “Nobody remembers heat races.” He winked at me, offering a smile. “It’s the feature events you remember.”

  I laughed, smiling sadly. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. But it got you to smile.”

  And that was what he was good at—making me smile when I needed it. But then I thought about what he said, and believe it or not, it kind of made sense. I couldn’t tell you the heat races Rager had won off the top of my head, but I knew every single track he had a feature win at. Maybe years later, when we’re old and gray, I wouldn’t think about my time spent with Easton. I doubt I’d even remember that time in my life.

  What mattered was being with Rager and our family we’d created out of love.

  “HOW MANY ROOMS do we need to get?”

  I stared at the parking lot outside the hotel and the haulers lining it. “Probably four. Three for the crew guys. Who do we have this week?” I started naming off all the crew members one by one. “Tommy, Logan, Willie, Dave, Holt, Jensen, Tyler, Justin, Zac… Lane?”

  “No, Bailey is with them. They have their motorhome,” Lily told me, squinting. “They were parked right next to you guys.”

  I waved my hand around. I’d been so distracted the last couple days I hadn’t even realized it. “Right. So… wait, did your parents bring theirs?”

  Lily chuckled. “Yes, Arie.”

  Hayden wrapped her arm around my shoulder. “You’re worse than me this week.”

  “It’s Vegas.” And I wasn’t lying. I always got a little foggy-brained whenever the Outlaws were in the same city as NASCAR. For good reason, as you could see. “Four rooms should be fine as long as Tyler and Dave are not in the same room together.”

  For the most part, all the guys got along, but seeing how Dave had a thing for Josephine, Tyler’s niece, they weren’t exactly on speaking terms most days.

  The girls and I made our way into the hotel lobby, booked the rooms only to have the really rude office manager tell us we couldn’t have the motor homes parked out there, only the haulers. “We’ll move to the truck stop up the street.”

  “That’s fine.” Bitchy Brittany slid the keys across the counter. “Just make sure they’re moved soon.”

  This wasn’t the first time we’d encountered this bel
ieve it or not. You’d think with the number of rooms we’d reserved they wouldn’t have a problem with a couple motor homes, but they do. We met the guys out back where they were pulling out Rager’s car to work on it. He wasn’t pleased, and neither were the crew guys that they hadn’t slept yet after the six-hour drive to California.

  “You look like a damn idiot,” I told Casten as he danced in the gravel parking lot to “The Git Up” by Blanco Brown.

  He spun around me, a drink in his hand, sloshing around in his plastic cup. “You’re just jealous because I dance better than you.”

  “The fuck you do.” Stepping from the hauler, I glanced around the parking lot of the street behind me where our motor homes were parked. Around two in the morning, no way people saw us, aside from the boys of JAR Racing who were in fact changing out an engine in Axel’s car, and replacing the wing and front springs on Rager’s.

  I should be sleeping, we all should be, but that wasn’t the life of a race team competing on a pro circuit. You stayed up at all hours of the night, dancing in the dark with your brother.

  Shirtless and wearing nothing but shorts and a cowboy hat he stole from Willie, Casten tapped his foot to the music, hitting the Back button to play it again. “Show me. I bet you can’t keep up,” he egged on as the chorus began again.

  Always the instigator.

  “Give me my fuckin’ hat,” Willie mumbled, a spring in his hand, looking like he wanted to shove it up Casten’s ass.

  “Mine now.” Casten spun around, bobbing his head.

  The guys were tired. I couldn’t blame them for being cranky, but I also couldn’t resist my little brother being drunk in a parking lot. So I danced with him and showed him that even though I was a mom of four kids, I could still throw down and country line dance and twerk. I wouldn’t go as far to say I danced better than Hayden, because no one did.

  Willie stopped and watched, smiling at Rager, who stood with his arms crossed against the side of the hauler. “Have you seen the movie Indecent Proposal?”