I rubbed my temples, trying to soothe them. I couldn’t think straight. All I could do now was clear my mind and wait it out, one deep breath at a time.
It took several minutes for my rattling senses to calm, and for silence to return. What a sweet sound silence could be.
I looked up at my reflection. My eyes were their dull gray selves again. “Thank you,” I whispered to no one, and then slumped back against the wall, eyes closed, concentrating on catching my breath as the expected wave of exhaustion hit me with a cold sweat.
The creaking door to the motor coach opened and broke through my sweet silence. My nerves tensed, and I pursed my lips shut to try to contain the occasional whimpers that insisted on slipping out.
“Lexi?”
Shit. What was Colton doing back here so soon?
“Lexi, are you in here? Dean asked me to come …” His voice trailed off, and I knew he had heard me.
A knock at the bathroom door pushed me to square my shoulders and bite down on my lower lip to prevent any more noises from coming out.
“Lexi, are you alright in there? If you don’t answer, I’m coming in.”
Could he? I couldn’t remember if I’d locked the door. I didn’t think I did. Crap. I didn’t have the energy to contain another meltdown. I opened my mouth to ask him to leave, but a sniff and a sob replaced my words. I clamped both hands over my mouth, hoping he hadn’t heard.
The door slid open. His eyes landed on me, half collapsed on the floor against the wall. He shoved the door wide open and dropped to his knees next to me. “Lexi, damn it, what happened?”
“Nothing,” I choked out.
“You’re bleeding. You’ve been crying.”
Bleeding? I snapped a glance back to the mirror in front of me. A nosebleed. “Oh. That. It’s nothing. I get these all the time.” Over the years, I’d learned that using my ability lowered my iron levels, so using it from time to time kept me balanced. But losing control like I’d just done dipped them dangerously low, bringing on more extreme symptoms. This was just another common side effect of my uncontrolled magnetic freakouts. It’d been so long since I’d had one that I’d almost forgotten.
I stood and tore off a few hand-twirls of toilet paper from the holder and held it to my nose to soak up the blood. Colton towered behind me, so close that all it would take was a slight lean to rest my head against his chest. My stomach did that fluttery thing again and sent pulses rushing to my head, but this time, I was too weak to fight for control. The curse dulled to a low hum in the back of my mind.
I stared at his reflection in the mirror—more specifically, his mismatched eyes. “Me being here has nothing to do with my mechanical skills, does it? I’m a charity case.”
Colton’s eyes narrowed. “No—”
“That’s why he accepted that deal. That’s why you and Dean are being so nice …” A sob cut me short.
Colton slid his warm hand up my right arm. The flutters spread to my chest and into my lungs, making it harder to breathe. He lifted my sleeve and uncovered the yellowed marking left over from last week’s bruise. The discoloration stuck out against my skin. Colton’s entire hand glided gently over the mark, and then he looked up and met my eyes through the mirror. A shiver ran across my shoulders.
“Dean knows what it’s like. He’s been in your shoes.”
I stepped out of his touch, ashamed that he knew about my bruise and what kind of stepdad Roy really was. I balled up the blood-soaked wad of toilet paper and whipped it at the wastebasket next to the toilet with whatever strength I could muster. Colton took one of my elbows and gently turned me around to face him. “Give Dean a chance, Lex. He’s a good guy. Trust me. Don’t go through this alone. Not when you don’t have to.”
This would’ve been so much easier if Roy’s tight arm grips and slaps were the only things I had to worry about—if I didn’t have to monitor my own thoughts and analyze my emotions every damn second to make sure I didn’t expose myself in public and get locked up in some mental institution. But my life hadn’t been easy for three and a half years now. I had to live with the fear and the guilt. Images of overturned desks and screaming classmates flashed in my mind. I shook my head, looked up at Colton’s questioning gaze, and whispered, “No one can help me.”
chapter three
I knuckled the sleep from my eyes to the sound of muffled voices coming from the kitchen just outside my door. Dim light filtered through the tinted window next to the dresser. Morning had snuck up on me. I pulled back the covers, sat up, and dangled my feet off the edge. It’d been years since I’d slept in such comfort, and every inch of me protested against getting out of bed. But I couldn’t stay in here all day, even if I wanted to.
The voices grew louder. I couldn’t quite make out what they were saying, but it was none of my business—living with Roy, I’d learned real quick that I should never stick my nose where it didn’t belong. A black eye had taught me that lesson.
I shuffled to the bathroom like a zombie and prepared to splash water over my face to liven myself up when I heard Colton’s angry voice.
“Ah, come on, Dean.”
I straightened. I could hear them clearer in here. My interest piqued. They were arguing. Colton was trying to make Dean understand something, but I still couldn’t make out some of the words. The hell with it. I wasn’t at home anymore. I tiptoed through the open shower door and leaned my ear against the wall.
“She shouldn’t be here,” were Colton’s next words. They shot through me like a snapped engine bolt on the fly. Were they arguing about me? “You should never have brought her here. She’s too fragile.”
Fragile? What the hell?
“Fragile?” Dean asked, as if reading my thoughts.
“Yesterday, I found her in the bathroom after you asked me to come back and see if she needed anything. She had some sort of full-blown panic attack. You should have seen all the stuff she trashed in here before she locked herself in there.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this yesterday?” Dean asked.
“When did I have the chance? You were busy schmoozing Guardian’s CEO most of the afternoon and then spending the evening with Link and his family. I picked everything up before she came out, in case she didn’t remember doing it or whatever. But Dean, there’s something not right about that kid.”
“Hey. That kid is less than two years younger than you, and—”
“Uh, Dean? Don’t bother. It’s broken.”
“It’s broken?”
“Yeah. It’s one of the many things I found on the floor yesterday.”
“Ah, man. Not the Keurig.” Dean’s voice dropped.
I’d heard enough. I didn’t have to listen to any more. It was obvious that Colton wanted me gone. How could I have been so naïve as to think that maybe, just maybe … Colton had been so nice to me yesterday. So much so that I’d even toyed with the idea of staying, thinking this could be a good opportunity for me. A chance at a normal life. But I’d been wrong. The other proverbial shoe was dangling by a shoelace, just about to drop.
My eyes burned. So what if I had a panic attack? Why did Colton hide the mess? I hadn’t realized I’d broken anything. After cleaning myself up and changing, I’d been relieved to see that my episode had left little to no evidence of collateral damage, but now I knew it was only because of Colton. He wanted me gone, and I had every intention of giving him what he wanted. Come Sunday, I was outta here.
I changed out of my pajama bottoms and vintage Mickey Mouse tee and slipped on a pair of denim shorts and one of the many DSG Racing t-shirts Dean had left me before pulling a ball cap low on my forehead. I took a deep breath, and then stepped out of my room. Both Colton and Dean fell silent. I took one glance at them, turned, and made my way to the door.
Dean broke the ice. “Morning, Lexi. There’s milk in the fridge and cereal in the cupboard. Or some toast and jam on the counter.”
“No, thank you. I’ll go find something at one of the conces
sion stands,” I said, grabbing my lanyard with my credentials attached, hanging by the door.
“There’s no need for that. I’m sure we can find something for you here,” Dean said.
Colton tapped me on the arm. “Are you okay? Is something wrong?”
I wasn’t very good at hiding my emotions, and Colton read me like a timesheet. Turning to face him, I flexed my hands at my sides, forced a smile, and prayed that the anger building within me didn’t pierce through the control I was trying so hard to maintain. I could feel my senses vibrating, assessing every object with metallic properties in close proximity.
“Oh, don’t you worry, Colton. I’m not about to have a panic attack or anything.” His face and jaw dropped.
“Lexi.” Dean stood up from his seat.
I snapped my head in his direction. “Tell your superstar that I’ll be gone by Sunday night. He won’t have to worry about cleaning up my messes anymore.”
“Lexi, he didn’t mean—”
I stormed out of the motor coach, refusing to let him finish his no doubt pathetic and defensive excuse, and slammed the door shut behind me with a wave of my hand—a stupid move that I hadn’t thought through. Luckily, there was no one around to notice I’d shut it without touching it.
Securing my credentials around my neck, I ventured out to find some food, returning only when I was sure I’d have the motor coach to myself. I thought about not coming back at all, losing myself in the crowds that were pouring in for today’s events, but there was only so much mindless walking and hordes of people I could endure. I craved the solitude—if you could call it that—of the infield, and I was in dire need of some quiet time. So much had happened in the last twenty-four hours and I still hadn’t fully accepted that all this had happened in the first place. I sat on the bed in my new room, surrounded by my new things, and felt the need to dive into the familiar. I fired up the laptop Dean gave me, pulled out my schoolbooks, and logged into my online courses. I plugged myself into my iTunes library—Colton had programmed a bunch of good tunes—and continued where I’d left off back when my life was normal. Well … normal to me, anyway.
A half hour into my English assignment on Hamlet, someone knocked at the door. I looked up, debating if I should pretend I wasn’t here. “Lexi, I need to talk to you.”
Damn it. Colton. I let out a loud sigh.
“I don’t wanna talk to you,” I yelled over the music playing in my ears.
“Please. Just let me explain.”
“There’s nothing to explain. I heard what you said, and I’ll be out of your hair by Sunday night.”
“Please. Talk to me. I’m not going to leave until you do.” Ugh. “You’ve got five minutes.”
“Can I come in?”
I contemplated leaving him out there, but decided seeing his face would help me determine if he was being sincere. I saved my Word document, pulled out my ear buds, and got rid of the annoyed expression on my face. “As you wish.” This should be interesting.
The door creaked open. I regretted letting him in the moment I saw him. He moved closer to the bed where I sat, legs crossed, laptop balanced on my knees. He eased himself down on the corner and looked me in the eyes. I forced myself to keep a straight face and a tab on my curse’s emotional levels. Cute or not, he was still a giant ass. “Well? You’ve got four minutes left.”
He glanced away. “I didn’t mean what you heard this morning.”
“Oh, really? So you just enjoy going around saying things you don’t mean for kicks.”
He noted my sarcasm and nodded. “What I meant was, maybe the NASCAR scene isn’t the best place for someone like you.”
“Someone like me?” I crossed my arms. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“The reason Dean accepted that deal with your stepfather was to get you away from him. He saw your bruises, saw the way he yelled at you, and he had to get you out.”
So I’d been right. I was a charity case. I looked down at the blinking cursor of my still-open laptop screen. “And you know this because …?” Had Dean run around telling everyone what he saw?
Colton shook his head. “I was the first person he saw when he came back and he told his wife over the phone, but that’s it, I swear.”
“Well, for your information, I didn’t need saving. I was out of there in less than a year anyway.”
“That may be so, but Dean knows what it’s like. He’s been through it. He had a rough childhood, possibly worse than yours, and no one helped him get out. I’m amazed he got through what he did and still managed to become the good guy he is today. He has a family now and a little girl of his own, and something inside of him snapped when he saw your bruises and your stepdad’s temper toward you. He had to get you out of there. He played on your stepdad’s greed to strike a deal to take you. Made him think it was his idea. The free advertising he’s getting in exchange for you is coming out of Dean’s own personal income.”
My heart ached for Dean and for what he’d been through, but what did that have to do with me? Just because he saw one bruise and one of Roy’s tantrums, what right did that give him to yank me away? “That’s all nice and dandy, but that doesn’t explain why you said what you said.”
“When I walked in and saw the mess in the kitchen and then found you crumpled on the bathroom floor, I panicked. You looked so fragile, like someone who needed more than just an out from an abusive situation.”
I eyed him and huffed out a laugh. “You think I need professional help.”
“I—”
I scowled and waved my hand to stop him from saying more. The look on his face told me all I needed to know. “You don’t know me. You don’t know what I’ve gone through or what I’m going through right now. There are things you will never know about me, things that have nothing to do with my life back home, or with Roy. Things I have to deal with that not even a professional can help me with. So, thanks for your concern, but stay out of it.”
“But I can’t just leave you …” A sigh slipped passed his beautiful heart-shaped lips—an observation I couldn’t stop myself from making, no matter how mad I was at him. “Please give Dean a chance. The man’s like a father to me. He gave me the one thing I’ve always wanted—a chance to live out my dream when I thought it wasn’t possible. I just don’t want to see him embark on a personal mission to help you, and then fail. And if you go home on Sunday, he fails. If you’re wrong and you do need more help than he can offer you, he fails. I can’t just stand by and let that happen. So please, if you think staying might give you a better shot at a good life, then stay. If not for yourself, then for Dean.”
I squared my shoulders and opened my mouth to fight back, but something in his eyes calmed every tense nerve, every vulgar word on the tip of my tongue, every tingle that ached to levitate the picture frame from the wall behind him and send it crashing over his head. He cared. He really cared. Not for me, but for Dean. Something churned inside me. Mama gave me that look often before she died. I’d forgotten what having someone care about me and protect me felt like. Colton cared for Dean. But what Dean did for me—the risk he took to get me here, whether I liked it or not—meant that he cared about me, even though he didn’t know me. I slouched my shoulders and bit my lower lip to alleviate the remainder of my boiling anger toward Colton. He had a point, and I had to make a decision. This was my chance. A huge risk, but a chance nonetheless. All I had to do was not allow myself to get too close to anyone, regain control of my magnetic impulses, and maybe, just maybe, I could have the life I’d wanted before Mama died. Before all this happened to me.
I closed the lid to my laptop, tossed my schoolbook aside with a little more force than I’d wanted to, and closed my eyes. “Fine.” The word tasted bitter on my tongue, but I had to give this a shot. Mama would have wanted me to.
“But—”
I shot Colton a cold stare. “I said fine. I’ll stay. Happy now?” Colton just smiled.
“Don’t tell Dean j
ust yet. You may trust him, but I’d rather make him sweat.”
He nodded. “The brooding, bitter approach. Got it.”
I let out a light chuckle.
“So we’re good?” Colton reached out and touched my arm, causing unfamiliar sensations to trigger the pulse of magnetic energy in my head.
I stiffened under his touch and suppressed the curse from trying to invade my senses. “We’re good.” For now.
chapter four
Colton received a text message from Dean asking him to report to the hauler for practice. I told him to hold on while I put away my laptop and books, and followed him out. The realization hit me that I’d said yes to staying without having a clue what Dean expected of me, or what kind of work he had in mind for me. I really needed to get out of my self-loathing bubble and find out what working with a NASCAR team entailed. I just hoped I hadn’t given Colton my word too soon.
On our way, Colton explained that Daytona was usually a week-long event that kicked off the regular season, but because of the storms we’d had, NASCAR officials had been forced to cancel all the races and qualifying sessions that determined the big 500 race’s starting order, as well as most of the activities earlier in the week. Practices like this one were being squeezed in at the last minute, and the standard qualifying laps had been added to tomorrow’s new busy schedule.
When we reached the hauler, a short, stocky man barreled toward Colton as though on an urgent mission. “Colton, there you are. You’re on the track in ten.”
“Keep your checkered panties on. I got plenty of time.” Colton waved him off and grabbed a hold of my sleeve. “Come on.” He opened the back door to the hauler and ushered me inside.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“That?” He pointed over his shoulder. “That was Lenny. My crew chief.”
I nodded, although I wasn’t sure what that meant. “Uhhuh.”
As if reading my thoughts, Colton continued. “He runs the show from the pits. Helps me make decisions about pit stops and what strategies to use.”
Magnetic Shift Page 3
