#Rev (GearShark #2) (31 page)

Not only did she not want me in her life, but in my Granny’s life either.

She didn’t care if I was alone.

She never had.

She never would.

“What do you want to do?” Drew asked, staring out the windshield, the engine idling. I appreciated he didn’t tell me what he thought I should do. I knew he was upset by what happened, by everything he learned about the way I grew up.

I knew he wanted to drive home and for me to never think of this again.

I knew because that’s the things I wanted for him when we left his parents’ house. He knew, just like I did, that even if we did that, it wouldn’t erase our past or what happened here today.

That’s why he was asking me where I wanted to go from here.

“I want to go to Granny’s,” I said, decisive. “If my mom has turned her against me, I want to know.”

It was like a Band-Aid stuck to a hairy leg. I wanted to rip it off fast and get the sting over with all at once.

Drew

It was wrong to hate.

I hated Trent’s mom anyway.

She did indeed make good on her threat to call T’s granny and spill the beans.

Granny was waiting at the door when we walked up.

Trent was pale and shaken from what happened with his mom. But he was still strong. He still held his head high.

Granny invited us inside, and two things happened:

1.) She told Trent he had good taste in men and offered me a cookie.

and

2.) She informed Trent his Scottish accent wasn’t very convincing and she always knew it was him who called, but he could call her anytime and talk in a bad accent because she loved him.

Granny was my new favorite person.

Trent

I was relieved.

Feeling relieved made me wonder if I was fucked up in the head.

What kind of son is relieved when his own mother throws a hissy fit about his life choices, calls him ungrateful, and then tells him to get out?

Me.

Maybe she wasn’t the only one that forced a relationship out of obligation instead of desire. When I thought about it—
really
thought about it—I would realize I stopped being hurt by her a long time ago. Even if I still lived kind of cautiously, like her ability to hurt me was still there.

When I was a kid, I used to wonder why she wasn’t like the other moms. Why she didn’t read me bedtime stories, take me to the movies, or yell at me for playing too many video games. It used to cut deep when I would look around at school for her face in the crowd or in the stands at my high school football games and she wasn’t there.

She never was.

She was the kind of parent who did her duty. She made sure we had a place to live, food to eat, and clothes to wear. She made sure I did my homework and paid all the fees when I wanted to play football in high school.

I couldn’t say she was a bad mom, because she wasn’t. She did right by me. She raised me even, after my father walked away. She wasn’t mean, she didn’t beat me, and she didn’t bring a dozen men in and out of our lives. In fact, she didn’t date at all.

She was just distant. Absent.

She kept everyone at arm’s length, including her own child. Maybe she never bonded with me when I was born. Maybe she never tried.

Or maybe when my father left her because of me, it cut so deep whenever she looked at me, that’s all she saw.

I learned at an early age to be self-sufficient. Instead of acting out, I internalized it all. I learned how to tuck my deepest pain and my darkest loneliness so deep no one would ever see it. I was a friend to everyone. I listened when people talked, and I kept things laidback and easy.

Why? Because that’s what I always wanted for myself.

I joined the football team (and later the fraternity) for that sense of family. I was good at it, and people liked me. So I kept playing. I was the one everyone liked, and I never had to be alone.

But I was.

I grew more alone, and the place I hid my real feelings got overfull.

I met Romeo and Braeden freshman year when we all started playing for the Wolves. We were friends; I was friends with everyone. But no one ever really knew me. Sometimes I wondered if
I
really knew me.

It’s easy to lose yourself when you have no idea who you are to begin with.

I used to wonder why she didn’t love me. Why my father didn’t want us. The only person who ever really showed me love was Granny. She came to my games, and we played checkers on rainy days. She used to tell me my mother loved me in her own way, the best she could.

I supposed that was true.

But it wasn’t good enough.

As I got older and started Alpha U, I would sometimes wonder if I was like her. If my mother’s inability to love was somehow my affliction, too.

Then Drew sat beside me at Screamerz.

He was the best friend I ever had. Someone I felt more myself with than anyone. Our friendship healed something in me, or maybe it just gave me the confidence to be who I really was.

I felt like he was the first person who really looked deep enough to see past the mask I always wore.

And I fell in love with him.

I fell in love with the least likely person I ever could. But in a way, he was the most obvious choice.

I wasn’t unable to love; I just needed the right person to give it to.

Maybe it was okay to be relieved. It was okay to move on and let some of the old hurt go. I had a family now, the kind I always wanted.

The kind who wanted me.

They all knew who I really was now, and they loved me anyway.

I wouldn’t fool myself into thinking it would always be easy for me. I would probably always still have days when I was a little more pulled in close. Days it would be easier to tuck my feelings deep and not let anyone see. There might always be that whisper deep in my head saying I wasn’t good enough.

Everyone had their demons. These were mine.

But as Tennessee Williams once wrote:
If I got rid of my demons, I’d lose my angels, too.

“What’s going on in there?” Drew asked, leaning across the seats and tapping my head with his finger.

I grabbed his hand and pulled it down, pressing it against my chest. “Nothing going on up there. It’s all happening in here.”

“You doing okay, frat boy?” he asked softly, rubbing his palm against my chest.

He worried about me, and I loved him for it. He didn’t have to worry, though, because I was more at peace than I’d ever been.

“I really am.”

“I love you more than French fries.”

I laughed even as my heart swelled. I was so ready for this interview today, so ready to tell the entire world (or maybe just the subscribers of
GearShark
) he was mine. After today, everyone would know, and I’d never have to worry about the way I looked at him in public ever again.

I wouldn’t be ashamed, even though some people thought I should. I spent too much of my life without the touch of love to ever tarnish the love I had now with something as ugly as shame.

“Gate’s open.” I gestured to the opening that led into the airport.

Drew nudged the Fastback forward, and I looked around. It was kind of really epic that Arrow lived at an airport and he and Lorhaven kept their cars in hangars.

When Emily Metcalf said she wanted to come to us for the interview, I knew it had to be somewhere other than the Chesapeake Speedway. Been there, done that. We needed something new, somewhere as unique as the new racing division.

Drew mentioned the airstrip, and everything was set up.

Lorhaven and Arrow jumped at the chance because they knew they’d get another behind-the-scenes look at
GearShark
. Not to mention the last time Lorhaven got a half-page article about his driving and ended up with a sponsorship for the division. We’d definitely be seeing a lot of him at the preliminary races now.

Plus, this was good for Arrow. We’d sort of taken the kid under our wing, and that sort of meant I had a truce with Lorhaven.

He still wasn’t my favorite person; he never would be.

We clashed in the most basic way. Maybe I was pissed because the second I met him, he was a lot of things I always wanted to be. Confident, unapologetic, and had a whole turf in town where everyone respected him.

He’d caught Drew’s attention, and that was an automatic dislike. Part of me always worried the deeper Drew got into racing, he would pull away from me. I never told him that. I always supported his racing and I always would. My insecurities were mine to bear, and besides, I knew it was partly those demons I mentioned trying to tell me I just wasn’t good enough and eventually Drew would realize.

You can’t hold so tight to people. The ones you love—hell, even the ones you hate.

Maybe I didn’t hate Lorhaven after all. Maybe I just intensely disliked him. Besides, I had a feeling he was going to be an ally for Drew on the track in the coming months.

The
GearShark
team was already here and setting up. Drew parked the Fastback beside Arrow’s Camaro, and we both got out.

It looked a lot like the shoot we did with Drew. The photographer had a white backdrop set up for photos, some lighting already in place. Beyond that, I saw his assistant scouting for other locations for more organic shots.

There was definitely plenty to pick from out here. The sky was blue and the temps were finally warm. It was a good day to be outside. I was hoping we did a couple shots with some of the older planes in the background. That would be kinda cool.

Even though they had a wardrobe person here, Ivy insisted on dressing me anyway. I didn’t argue like Drew had. I just put on the clothes she handed me so we could leave.

She picked a dark pair of jeans, a black fitted T-shirt, and a white collarless leather jacket. Usually, Drew was the one to wear the leather, but this one was preppier and had less street style.

I was keeping it because it was obvious Drew liked it. His eyes lingered on me just a little bit more, and when I first stepped out in it, his tongue ran across the front of his teeth.

There was a big table with coffee, pastries, and fruit where Arrow, Lorhaven, and some of the crew were gathered around. I waved at them on my way to Emily.

“Let’s get him into makeup,” she said the second I was within earshot. I was gestured toward a director-looking chair, so I slid the jacket off my arms and sat down.

“Oh my,” the makeup artist said, staring. Then she glanced at Emily. “Less is more with this one.”

Emily turned thoughtful and smiled.

Drew made a rude noise. “You didn’t say that about me.”

“Someone’s jealous,” I told the girl.

She giggled.

From behind her, Drew glowered, so I gave him a wink. It only made him glower harder.

“What happened to your eye?” she asked as she started dabbing my face with a sponge. “You have some discoloration.” Her finger ran over the part that was still slightly bruised.

“I got in a fight,” I told her.

She drew back and looked at me. “Really?”

I nodded.

“Did you win?” she asked. Why was it women always thought it was hot when guys seemed dangerous?

Drew rolled his eyes. He was totally pissed this girl was flirting with me. I settled back a little more in the chair and enjoyed it. Maybe I liked it when he got all possessive.

“Did I win?” I mused, smiling at the memory of Con in his tightie whities with his hands tied behind his back. “Oh yeah, I won.”

“Guess all those muscles came in handy.”

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” Drew muttered.

Emily announced the photographer was going to do the photos first and then we’d do the interview. “Drew, would you mind taking a minute to talk to me while Trent’s doing the photos?” she asked.

“Sure thing.” He agreed. Even though technically, it was me doing the interview, he was still a part of it. This was
our
story.

“What about a cover shot of him without his shirt?” the makeup girl called over her shoulder to Emily.

“A cover shot?” I said.

Emily nodded. “We’re considering putting you on the cover.”

“Why does he need to be half naked?” Drew asked.

“Muscle cars, muscles on men… It sells magazines,” the makeup girl mused, still dabbing that sponge around my eye.

Drew appeared silently at my side, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s with me.”

The girl straightened, and her surprised expression bounced between us. “You’re together?”

“Yeah, so forget about it,” he quipped.

I burst out laughing. “Go get some coffee, Forrester. You’re cranky.”

“I’m not bringing you any,” he said as he walked away.

“Thanks!” I called after him.

“I can still admire your muscles,” the girl told me.

“I heard that!” Drew yelled.

Everyone within earshot laughed.

The photographer came over and looked at me. “Mess his hair up. Lose the shirt.”

“Told ya,” the makeup girl sang. She set aside her tools and reached for some hair crap.

“Maybe we should ask him how he feels about being shirtless on the cover of a magazine,” Emily told the photographer.

“How do you feel?” The photographer looked at me with a raised brow.

I smothered a smile and thought about how testy it was going to make Drew. “I’m cool with it. But I have some bruising around my ribs.”

I pulled up my shirt to show them.

“Body makeup!” the photographer yelled. “Hurry, I’m losing the lighting.”