“I told you, a 747 of baggage sweetheart.”
“It doesn’t matter, Colton.”
“Yes it does, Rylee,” he laughs nervously. “I won’t commit to anyone. It’s just easier on everyone in the long run.”
“Ace, you’re not the first guy I’ve know with commitment issues,” I joke, trying to add some levity to our conversation. But deep down I know that his inability to commit stems from something way deeper than just typical male reluctance. The shame mixed with desperation in his voice echoes loudly in my head, telling me otherwise.
I hear his nervous laugh again. “Rylee?”
“Yes?”
“I respect you and your need for the commitment and the emotion that comes with a relationship.” He pauses, silence stretching between us as he finds his next words. “I really do. I’m just not built that way … so don’t feel bad. This would’ve never worked.”
My hope, which has been rising despite my trying to control it, crashes back down. “I don’t understand. I just—”
“What?” Colton says distracted, talking to a voice I hear in the background. “Saved by the bell! I’m needed on the track right now. More fine tuning.” I can hear the relief in his voice, happy to have an out from our conversation.
“Oh. Okay.” Disappointment fills me. I want to finish this conversation.
“No hard feelings then? I’ll see you at the track on Sunday?”
I momentarily close my eyes, fortifying my voice with false nonchalance. “Sure. No hard feelings. See you on Sunday.”
“See ya, Ryles.”
The phone clicks and the dial tone fills my ear. I sit there not hearing it. Does he realize that he used his defense mechanism right now? Hurt me to keep me at arm’s length from him? Put me in my place so that he can have all the control.
I’m unsettled. I want to finish our conversation. Tell him that it doesn’t have to be this way. I want to comfort him. Ease the panic that laces his voice. Tell him that he makes me feel again after being numb for so very long. Confess that I want to be with him despite knowing deep down I will be destroyed emotionally in the end.
I pick up my phone, pondering what I’m going to say. In the end, all I text is:
Be safe on the track Ace!
He responds quickly.
Always. You know I’ve got great hands.
I smile sadly. My heart wanting so much that my head knows is never going to happen.
CHAPTER 19
The limo bus pulls through the gates of Auto Club Speedway in Fontana. The boys are buzzing with excitement, eyes wide as saucers taking in the sheer size of the complex. They have put on their shirts and all access lanyards that one of Colton’s staff has left aboard the bus for them. Their wide smiles and their constant
oohs and aahs
fill the bus and fill my heart with pure elation. Zander bounces unexpectedly on the seat, vibrating with an obvious energy that takes me by surprise. I look at Jackson and Dane, my fellow counselors, and note that they see it too.
For the first time in almost a week, I feel like I can truly smile, and ironically, it’s Colton that has vicariously caused me to. I’m thankful to him for the little touches he has added for the boys: a personalized letter, the shirts, the lanyards, and glossy magazines with his car on the cover. Things that make them feel special. Important.
Our bus is directed down a tunnel under the stands before driving on to the infield. I didn’t think it possible, but the boys’ hooting and hollering becomes even louder at this new development. We come to a stop and the doors open. Within moments a man hops on the bus, bounding with enthusiasm. He directs us off of the bus and has us follow him to a meeting room where we he tells us we will meet up with Colton.
I feel small walking in the midst of this large arena. To the south of us, a large grandstand juts up to towering heights while the banked oval of the track encompasses the entire field around us. I can hear engines revving and see people scurrying to and fro in a garage on my right. With each step we take, my anxiety at seeing Colton again increases. How is he going to react after his telephone confession to me? Will it be business as usual or will there still be that magnetic pull between us? Or will he be indifferent to me? Despite my anxiety, I’m also excited to see Colton in action. To watch him take part in his passion. To watch him in his element.
We arrive at a brick building and our facilitator, whom we’ve learned on our walk is named Davis, leads us into a room with an opened red door. We heed his advice to gather around, the boys chattering excitedly, overwhelmed by our surroundings. They call out random questions to Davis who patiently answers to them.
When they settle down somewhat, Davis explains the reason for testing a car. “When we’re testing, a lot of time goes into tweaking the car. Little adjustments here and there that makes the car go faster or handle better. These changes are essential to the overall performance of the car when the season starts in late March. Along with these tweaks are little meetings where Colton meets with his crew chief, Beckett Daniels, and reviews what they are working on in testing. That is where Colton currently is now, discussing—”
“Not anymore.” Chills dance up my spine as I hear the rumble of Colton’s voice at my back as he enters the room. Whoops go up all around me as the boys say various forms of greeting to him. I look down at Zander and the wide, genuine grin on his face causes my heart to lodge in my throat.
“Hey, guys!” he throws back at them, “So glad you’re here! Are you guys ready for a fun day?”
The cheers go up again as I inhale deeply, preparing myself to turn around and face him. When I do, my heart squeezes tightly in my chest. Colton is on his haunches, eye level with the little guys of our group, and ruffling the hair on their heads playfully. He laughs sincerely at something Scooter says and then stands slowly, lifting his eyes, locking them with mine.
All thoughts leave my head as I drink him in. He’s wearing a red fire safety suit, the top portion unzipped and tied around his waist to reveal a snug-fitting white t-shirt with a faded logo across the chest and a small hole in the left shoulder. His hair is a spiked mess and his jaw sports the shadow of a day’s missed shave. My thoughts immediately veer to how much I’d love to run my tongue over his lips and fist my hands in his hair.
I bite my bottom lip, the quick pain a reminder that this is not going to happen—we’re not going to happen—and to help me resist any urges that I might have of thinking otherwise. Colton’s eyes stay locked on mine as the boys I love surround him. A slow, lazy grin spreads on his face.
All thoughts of resistance vanish. Shit! I’m in so over my head when it comes to him!
“Hello, Rylee.” So much is behind those two words. All of the hurt and confusion and over-analyzing from the past couple of days disintegrates. In case I didn’t know it before, it’s obvious now that his proximity clouds both my judgment and my common sense.
“Hi.” My nervous response is all I can manage as we continue to hold each other’s gazes as if we are the only two people in the room. I fidget with my hands, trying to ignore the desire blooming in my core. Kyle tugs on his hand, and after a beat, he drags his gaze away from me to focus back on the boys.
I slowly exhale the breath I didn’t know I was holding. Dane scoots near me and leans into me. “Damn, Rylee! What the hell’s going on here?” I give him a bemused look, as if I don’t know what he’s talking about. “If I didn’t know any better, that stare said he wanted to eat you for dessert.” I laugh at him, nudging him playfully, trying to use it as a deflection from having to answer. And to hide the blush crawling into my cheeks, remembering Colton’s version of cotton candy dessert. “The man obviously wants you, girl!”
“Oh, whatever! You read the tabloids, Dane. He’s a total player.” I dodge the question in a whispered voice. “I’m sure he gives that look to every woman.” I’m grateful for the distraction when Zander sidles up next to me, and I place my hand on his shoulder. Colton notices the movement and looks up from the other boys to meet Zander’s eyes. He moves from the crowd of boys and walks over to kneel in front of us.
“Hiya, Zander. I’m so glad you could come today.” Colton remains still, watching and waiting for an indication from Zander how he should proceed.
I suck in a breath as I hear a hoarse sound from Zander’s mouth. A croaked, “Hi,” comes out and the cautious smile on Colton’s face spreads to a megawatt grin. A tear trickles over my cheek, and I quickly dash it away looking over to Dane and Jackson to see relief and pride reflected in their expressions as well.
Zander spoke his first word!
Colton clears his throat, and I think the moment may have gotten to him too. “So I’m going to need special help from you later, if that’s okay?” When Zander nods his head, Colton slowly reaches out, showing Zander the intention of his actions, and when he doesn’t flinch, Colton gently tousles his hair.
Colton glances up to me as he stands, and the tears swimming in my eyes are for both Zander’s reaction and because of the man before me. For everything that can’t be with him. He gives me a resigned, knowing smile before turning his focus back on the other six boys. “So guys, are you ready to head down to the pits, check out the car, and get ready to test it all out?” Colton staggers back playfully at the roar of the boys’ consent. “I take that as a yes!” he laughs.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice a statuesque blonde enter the room with a clipboard in one hand, a worn baseball cap in the other, and an official-looking lanyard around her neck. She leans against the door jam watching Colton and must feel my stare on her because she turns, slowly eying me up and down in a measuring assessment. Her eyes finally meet mine, a slow smirk on her lips and a less than friendly look in her eyes. And then it dawns on me who she is. She’s Tawny Taylor: sometimes escort, CD Enterprises employee, and who knows what else to Colton. I bristle at the realization; her lengthy legs, sample size figure, long blonde hair, and stunning face making me feel beyond insecure. Why would Colton chase someone like me when he could have someone like her?
Colton looks over at her as she says his name in her throaty voice, interrupting his answer to Shane’s question. “Just a minute, boys,” he excuses himself and walks over to where she stands.
She holds out the battered baseball cap, and he runs a hand through his hair before situating it on his head. I hear their quieted voices and make out a few words in between the noises my boys make. Colton holds his hands on his hips, broad shoulders filling out the faded t-shirt, as he nods his head at Tawny. Her smile is wide, knowing, and when she reaches a hand out to place it on Colton’s upper arm, I hate her immediately. My ears perk as I hear my name.
What?
Tawny glances over at me quickly before returning to Colton. It seems as if they are wrapping things up so I busy myself paying attention to the posters hanging on the walls. I hear Colton say, “Thanks,” before returning to his audience. Tawny turns for the door and notices me studying her. She flashes me an insincere, catty smile before walking out the door. Her smile says it all. Colton’s her territory, and I’m just an intruder.
Well, game on, sweetheart!
With Tawny gone and at least one adversary known, I turn my attention back to Colton, who is telling the boys what to expect out of testing. He answers their questions with an understated patience and detail that brings it all on their level. Zander stands closely to Colton, engaged in watching the conversation, his eyes never leaving his face. When he finishes, Davis glances at his watch and pipes up, “Okay, guys, I’m going to lead you down to the pits. You guys can sit in the seats right above so you can see everything. We’re also going to get you outfitted with headsets so that you can hear us talking back and forth with Colton.” He grabs his clipboard and turns toward the door, “So if you’ll follow me, we’ll get you all set!”
The boys fidget animatedly as they fall into line behind Davis. I grab my bag and start to follow, anxiety rising at the possibility of being alone with Colton. I usually have strong will power but when it comes to Colton, it’s nonexistent. I take my first step when I hear his voice behind me. “Can I have a sec, Ry?” The quiet rasp washes over me.
I ignore the raised eyebrows that Dane gives me before turning and following the boys out the door. Not trusting my voice, I figure that my lack of forward movement is enough of an answer for Colton.
“It’s good to see you.” His voice is gruff.
I take a deep breath and close my eyes momentarily, trying to clear the emotion from my face and remove my heart from my sleeve. I slowly turn around, a falsely calm smile on my lips as I remind myself of his words from the other day. The full force of the devastating effect he has on me hits me when I meet his eyes.
This would’ve never worked.
“You too, Ace.”
He’s sitting on the edge of a table, one foot resting on the seat of the chair in front of him, his hands twirling his sunglasses by their arm. My heart twists at the sight of him, knowing I can have some of him but not the whole I need. I walk toward him, our chemistry irrefutable, and his pull on me magnetic. I smile shyly at him, trying to keep my emotions under wraps. I stop in front of him, my fingers itching to touch. His eyes watch my hand as I reach out and wipe off an imaginary piece of lint from his shirt. “You look so official!” I laugh anxiously saying the only thing that comes to my mind.
He cocks his head and raises an eyebrow at me. “What? You think I’m faking it and this is all for show?” he says dryly rising from the table. When he unfolds himself and stands to full height, his body is a mere inches from mine. His scent envelops me and I take a step back to prevent myself from reaching out to touch him again. Any measure to try and preserve my dignity.
“No. That’s not what I meant.” I shake my head flustered, stepping back again to create some space. “Being here just makes it all so real; the track, seeing you in your suit, the grandstands … the enormity of it all.” I shrug, “Thank you so much, Colton.” With these words I look down at my hands where I instinctively go to worry the ring that’s no longer on my finger. Instead I lace my fingers together and try to hide the emotion swarming in my eyes.