I offered her a sad smile. “Beau is my world because, without him, I’d still be trapped in here.” I tapped my forehead. “If racing in the ProV8 is what would make him happy, and that’s a possibility, I’d walk away right now.”
She snorted. “He walked away from his whole life for you, do you really think he doesn’t feel exactly the same way about you being in the car.”
“Of course he does. Beau would go through anything to make me happy; he’s proven that over and over. He’s the best person for me. Honestly, I couldn’t imagine anyone else loving me as well as he does.”
Angel’s gaze travelled to Beau again, but she didn’t smile. Her lips were pursed and her brow furrowed. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”
I jumped up and grabbed a bottle of water as the new information settled into the depths of my mind. “I guess I’ve got a lot to think about.”
“You’ll do the right thing, whatever you do.”
“Yeah. I guess the million dollar question is do I want to be out there?”
Lost in thought, I grabbed something small to eat. To distract myself from the stress of the race, I asked Angel about her studies. It was nice in an odd way to hear her talk about the little things she was learning in her course that I could apply.
“Hey, darlin’, sweetness.” Beau found his way over to us and nodded to Angel and me in turn before his gaze found mine. “How are you doin’?”
“Better than I was,” I confirmed.
“Steve’s gettin’ ready to come back in soon. When the next safety car is called, he’ll come in for the change-over. If none is called by lap one-forty, we’ll bring him in regardless. You can take the last twenty-odd laps.”
“Okay. I think I can tackle it now. Angel gave me a new strategy to try out.” I smiled at her. “Although you and I need to have a chat about next year, buddy.”
He swallowed hard. “Okay, darlin’.”
When he went back to the monitors, I pulled my race suit on properly and prepared myself to get back out for the end of the race. Once I was ready, I hung out near Beau and Dad watching the monitors.
A number of laps later, a safety car was called, and I rushed to get organised to get back in the car. Despite my earlier freakout, I was as ready as I could be to get back in the car.
Steve swung the car into the pits and pulled to a stop. As soon as it was still, the hoist lifted it and the crew set to work with their tasks, of tyres and fuel. Steve climbed out and clasped my hand as I passed him.
“You’ve got this,” he shouted the words, but I could barely hear him through the helmet, headset, and the general raucous of the working pit.
I gave him a thumbs up and then climbed into the car. He helped me get my harness secured and then shut the door as I secured the mesh. It was something I should have helped him with too if I hadn’t been so panicked.
Being in the car again brought some of the panic back, but then the guys at either side of the front of the car shot their hand up to say they were clear of the car and I didn’t have time to wallow. I swallowed down everything and thought of the strategy Angel had suggested.
“You can do this,” I murmured to myself. As much as I’d relied on Beau on the comms up until now, I couldn’t do that any longer. I had to find the answer inside myself, or I’d never have peace.
“Good luck out there, darlin’,” Beau said as I stomped on the accelerator and hit pit lane.
I shot out of the pit and slipped into the pack. After the race Steve had run for the last hundred laps, our track position was officially tenth, but with the cars squished up behind the safety car, it was going to be an interesting restart.
When the safety car lights went out, I focused like Angel had suggested. My concentration on the track was absolute. Within three laps, I’d overtaken the lapped cars that were between me and the cars ahead.
Every time I felt my attention slip, or other thoughts creeping in, I breathed and focused on nothing but catching up with the car ahead of me.
Down Conrod Straight. Through the Chase. Hard to the left.
As I passed the start/finish line, I overtook another car, pulling into eighth.
“There’s a bit of distance to the pack running positions four to seven.”
“I’ve got it,” I said. “I’m chasing them down.”
Determination flooded through me. Via the comms, I overheard Dad and Beau discussing my lap times. Apparently, I was within a breath of a race best despite the cold tyres and full tank.
Now that I knew how close I was, I wanted it.
Lap after lap fell away and the black rear end of the car in position seven loomed closer and closer. With seven laps to go, I’d closed the distance.
Four laps to go, I took him and closed in on position six.
We hit Mountain Straight and I went wide. As we raced for Griffins Bend, I pushed to get the racing line. We hit the corner and I had the track position for him to yield to me. Knowing I had the right of way, I went in hard.
He didn’t give way, and as we went around the corner, the front of his car smashed against the passenger side front quarter panel of mine. My car swung loose. Beau’s gasp echoed through the headset, but he didn’t say anything to distract me. My rear end fishtailed as I lost control.
The walls along the side of the track loomed closer as I was pinned in position between the car beside me and the wall, but I held on and ran through the training Dad had given me for this sort of situation. I stopped fighting against the car and used its momentum to straighten it up and then slammed on the accelerator to shoot ahead of the fishtailing number thirty-three car.
When I was clear, and amazingly still on the track, I exhaled my relief.
“How bad’s the car?” I asked Beau. I could see what my readouts were telling me, but I couldn’t see if I was dropping debris all over the track.
“Damaged, but drivable. It ain’t gonna matter though, they’re calling a safety car because Jones went into the wall after hittin’ ya.”
“It’s over?”
“Ya came in sixth.”
A pang hit me that it was over and as I took the next corner, I wished I could keep going. I was only just hitting my groove.
Maybe walking away wouldn’t be as easy as I’d thought.
“ARE THE PROBLEMS that hit you on the weekend something you’re likely to experience again?” Before I could answer that question, the same reporter asked another. “Does it make you a danger to the other drivers? I mean you said in your interview with Sunday at Six that you have been having some issues with flashbacks and visions, is that what happened on the track? Can you guarantee it’ll be safe for other people on the track?”
Beau’s hand tightened around mine, and his lips curled into a snarl. I brushed my thumb across his in a reassuring way, reminding him to stay calm. The question wasn’t unexpected, by either of us, and it was only Beau’s protectiveness that made him react that way. It wasn’t going to be a good thing if he went off on the person though.
The press conference was supposed to be a follow-up to my interview with Sunday at Six but had turned into something of a play by play dissection of the mistakes I’d made in the early part of the Bathurst race. The reporters had all had two days to study the race, and the events around it, and many of them had a stack of burning questions. We were already more than ten minutes into the conference, and I was already over it.
Instead of trying to think of something on the fly and make things worse, I used the words Mum had given me. “The early part of my race yesterday ended with an unfortunate incident, but I was in full control of the vehicle at all times. There was never a risk to anyone else”—I made a winning smile—“only my own position on the track.”
As I’d hoped, a few of the reporters chuckled. It was far better to try to be affable and self-deprecating than defensive. There was nothing the Australian media, or public, hated more than someone who took themselves too seriously.
“Were you hap
py with your performance overall?”
“Of course there are a few things I would’ve done differently, and I would’ve loved to help Parkins get one last Bathurst podium, but overall I’m happy with the rhythm I found by the end.”
The conference continued with more questions about the race and my plans for next year. I answered them as honestly as I could considering I hadn’t had the conversation with Beau about where we both needed to be the following year. There was no guarantee I would be out on the track, but I couldn’t say that without risking sponsorships.
“Mr Miller, you put a career in stock cars, and your life in the States, on hold to come to work for Emmanuel Racing because of your relationship with Phoebe. Are there wedding bells on the horizon?”
I swallowed and my fingers flinched in Beau’s hold. It wasn’t a question I’d expected, but I probably should have. I buried my teeth in my lip as I watched Beau, waiting for his response. It wasn’t my place to answer for him when the question was directed his way.
He met my gaze. “I think it’s a li’l early to be discussin’ those things just yet.”
It would have been easier for him to throw me under the bus, telling the world that my issues were the reason we wouldn’t get married, but he didn’t. I gave him a smile, and he returned it with one of his own slow ones that I loved.
“Mr Miller, can you explain how you felt during the search for Miss Reede?”
Our smiles both fell, and I stared at my hands. Over the time we’d been back together, I’d been able to piece together enough about what happened while I was missing to know the special hell Beau had lived in for three months. Between the theories around his possible involvement, his own feelings of guilt, and the general fear, it had been a torturous experience. He never claimed it was anything as bad as what I’d suffered, and mostly wanted to put it behind him, but it wasn’t easy for him.
“The days while Phoebe was absent, well they were the darkest of my life.” He launched into a short rundown of the lowlights, and I had to focus hard on my hands to stop myself from crying.
“Miss Reede, I hear congratulations are in order for your parents, adding baby number six.”
“Seven,” I corrected reflexively. It was something I was long used to doing. Everyone missed Emmanuel, and I refused to ever let him be forgotten. I might have turned away from the comfort of his memory while I was trapped, but I’d never let him go unacknowledged.
“Of course, seven. Do you think they’ll have any more?”
Before I could respond someone else added, “Are kids on the table for you and Mr Miller?”
“I-I can’t do this.” I pushed out of my chair and tore my mic off. No doubt I’d cop shit for it later, but I couldn’t tear open my soul and every one of my wounds for them.
Beau gave a slightly more diplomatic answer and a proper sign-off before rushing after me. Out of sight of everyone else, I let him hold me as he offered to be my strength again.
In his arms, and with the questions of the reporters buzzing through my head, I had a new one of my own. “Why didn’t you tell me that Dad spoke to you about being in the ProV8 next year?”
He brushed my hair off my face. “Because it’s your car.”
“You gave up so much to be here for me, the least I can do is step away from the car for you.”
“What will you do if you did that?”
I shrugged. “How can I be out there when I don’t want this as much as I used to?”
“D’ya want it at all?”
“After the first session at Bathurst, I would’ve said no.”
“But the second one changed that?”
I held up my fingers to indicate a little. “It was Angel actually.”
I explained the epiphany I’d had after Angel’s suggestion.
“This is the reason I didn’t tell ya about the discussion. I don’t want ya to give up because of me. The only reason I want to be on that track is if ya can’t or don’t wanna be there.”
I trailed my fingers along his chest. “There isn’t much I wouldn’t give up for you, or for us. After what I—”
He pressed a fingertip over my lips. “I ain’t gonna let you finish that because it’s in the past.”
“I still feel terrible.”
He replaced his finger with his lips, silencing my arguments and helping to remove the fear that had been building over the fact that I had let him down. Whatever the fallout was from me walking away so abruptly only one thing mattered, Beau and I would be okay.
BY THE time I woke the next morning, Beau had already left for the office.
Surprisingly, the fallout from the press conference had been fairly minimal, with most people saying the reporter had pushed things too far asking things about babies when the extent of my trauma had only been revealed to the public the week before. I wasn’t going to complain though. Since then, we’d taken the house phone off the hook, and I’d turned off my work mobile. I didn’t want to rehash things over and over until I’d had more time to decompress.
Rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I walked down to the kitchen. It was still odd waking to a near silent house. Other than my time in the States, I’d always had noise around me.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” Angel handed me a hot Milo.
“You’re a godsend.”
She grinned at me. “What’s on your agenda today? I’m having a break from studying and was thinking I might go to the movies. I’d love to have a date.”
I took a long sip of my Milo to avoid having to answer. I’d braved the track and the press, but I’d done both of those with Beau at my side. Could I brave a busy shopping centre alone with Angel?
“That new romantic comedy about cupids is out today.” Angel singsonged the last words as if trying to tempt me that way.
“I’m just a little worried,” I admitted.
“Worried about what?”
“Whether I can do it without Beau.” The words tasted wrong on my tongue. This wasn’t who I was—it wasn’t who I’d been before. Then, I’d been too independent to rely on someone else for everything, even if that was the role I’d been cast in over the last few months.
“You know what, let’s do it.” I ignored the twisting in my stomach that warned I wasn’t ready for this.
The smile on Angel’s face made the twisting fear worthwhile.
“Really?” Before I could answer her exclamation, or change my mind, she continued, “Be ready in twenty minutes.” Her voice was full of joy as she bounded away.
Just as I came out of the shower, my phone rang. Because it was my private phone, I wasn’t too worried about answering it. Only a few people had the number, and certainly no members of the press.
A female voice spoke after I’d said hello. “Phoebe, I’m sorry to call you, but I—”
“Who is this?” I cut the woman off. I didn’t recognise the voice, and that was enough to send my heart racing. Was it the reporter who’d asked whether I’d have children? One of the former fans who had turned on me when the truth had been revealed? Why would she have my number? The sickening twisting that had started with Angel’s suggestion to go to the movies grew until it took up my entire stomach and rose into my chest.
“I just wanted to talk to—”
“Tell me who this is.” I tried to hide the rising fear in my voice, but I couldn’t get rid of the shaking in my tone or the way my throat constricted.
“Please, will you let me—” She started instead of giving me her name.
“Don’t call this number again.” I hung up before she could say anything more. If she wasn’t going to tell me who the fuck she was, why should I give her any of my time? What did she want anyway? How did she get my private number?
I stared at the phone. Had someone broken my trust and given it out? I couldn’t even call the number back because it was coming up as a blocked number.
“Who was that?” I jumped when Angel’s voice sounded behind me.
“Uh
, um, I don’t know.”
“Are you okay?” She brushed my hair off my face.
I flinched and stepped back. “I don’t know. I just . . . who would give someone my number? Why?”
“What did they want?”
Wrapping my arms around myself, I dropped my head. “I don’t know.”
“Are you okay?”
I couldn’t answer her. My head was spinning, and even though I knew it was impossible, I imagined it was Cora on the other end of the call. Or someone related to her. Maybe the reporter from the press conference wanted to say more than she’d been allowed. Situation after situation spun through me, and I couldn’t breathe.
“Why don’t we stay home and re-watch one of our favourites instead?” She tried to grab me in her arms, but I stepped back and scowled.
“I-I need to be alone.”
A flash of something rushed across her features, screwing everything up as she flinched, but she hid it as fast as it appeared. “Okay. If you change your mind, I’ll be in the living room studying.” She said the words to the floor before turning to leave.
I couldn’t find another word before she left the room. Once she was gone, I crawled back into bed and curled around my pillow. How could a phone call send me spiralling? It wasn’t like the woman had said anything bad, but knowing someone had to have given her my number—that someone had broken my trust and gone behind my back—was more than I could cope with.
I’d actually started to drift to sleep when my mobile rang again. I was ripped from that near slumber so fast my heart raced, and panic flooded through me anew. Because of my shaking hands, I didn’t answer the call, worried it would be the stranger again. The last thing I needed while I was feeling fragile was to have another encounter with her—whoever she was.
Less than five minutes later, someone knocked frantically on my door. The sound made me squeal into my pillow.
“Pheebs, girlie, are you okay?” Angel’s voice called to me.
I pushed the blankets off my head and tried to steady my breathing and find my voice.
“Pheebs?”
“As okay as I can be,” I answered with all the volume I could muster.
Phantom (Phoebe Reede: The Untold Story #5) Page 8
