Revved (40 page)

“Back in a few.”

I watch him go, the feel of his kiss still lingering on my lips. Then, I turn back to the table.

Owen is watching me. And something in his expression has changed. He looks harder now. And it leaves a sinking feeling in my stomach.

“He likes you. A lot.”

“I’m glad. I like him a lot, too.” I smile, but it feels forced.

Owen sits forward, elbows on the table. “Did you know that Carrick’s mother left when he was only a young’un?”

“Yes, he told me.”

He seems surprised at that.

“Well, because of her leaving, he doesn’t trust people easily. He doesn’t let them close. Especially women. Hence, the way he’s lived his life, jumping from one woman to the next. Until you. For some reason, you’re different. He trusts you. He’s let you in. And I’d be glad for that—relieved, to be honest—because all I want for him is for him to be settled with a good woman. And you are lovely, Andi. You’re not like your average girl. You’re smart and beautiful, but…”

And there it is. The
but
that I knew was coming.

“I see it in you, what was in my ex-wife. You have the exact same look in your eyes that she always had—the look of flight. Hers was because she thought there was more out of life to be had than she would get with Carrick and me. She was always looking for bigger and better things, running toward what she thought that was. But you…” He shakes his head, his eyes assessing me. “You look to me more like you’re running from something rather than toward it.”

I feel winded. He can see right through me, and in this moment, I feel the most vulnerable than I ever have.

“Owen—”

He lifts a hand stopping me. “I reckon I know what you’re gonna say, and you don’t need to. All I’m asking of you is, if you don’t think you can make it for the long haul with Carrick, then leave him now. Break his heart while he can still recover from it and not years down the line when it’s too late, and he’ll never recover.”

I feel like he just punched me in the chest. I’m fighting for air.

And what do I say?

That he’s right. That I know each time watching Carrick race, my fear is growing exponentially. That one day soon, it’s going to explode and take control of me, and I’ll run from him.

That I wake up each morning, looking at Carrick’s face, knowing how weak I am. Knowing that, one day, I’ll hurt him, and I won’t be able to stop myself from doing it.

That I know I’m not good enough for Carrick, and I never will be.

“Everything okay?” Carrick’s standing by the table.

I quickly clear all emotion from my face and throw on a smile before looking up at him. I think quickly on the spot. “Of course. Your dad was just telling me some funny stories about when you were a kid.”

“Oh God.” Carrick groans, dropping into his seat. “What did you tell her, so I can quickly repair the damage you’ve done?”

“Nothing bad, son.” Owen glances at me. “Nothing for you to worry about anyway.”

I pick up my glass of wine and chug it back.

The rest of dinner passes by in a blur for me. I make sure to join in the conversation and laugh in all the right places, but all I have buzzing around my mind are Owen’s words.

We’ve just finished dessert, and I’m more than ready to leave.

“Are you staying for coffee?” Owen asks. “Or an after dinner brandy?”

“I’m okay,” I answer.

“Carrick?” Owen says.

I look at him when he doesn’t respond to his dad straight away. He’s staring at me, and I can see it in his eyes. He knows I’m not a hundred percent myself.

“You tired?” he asks me.

“A little. But you go ahead and have a drink. I don’t mind.”

He looks at me for a few seconds longer. He seems to be weighing something up in those beautiful blues of his. He pulls them from me to his dad. “No, I’m fine. Thanks, Da.”

I love it when he does that, drops the D and calls his dad Da. It’s so sweet.

“I reckon we’ll head back to the hotel now.” Carrick calls the waitress over for the bill.

“I’ll get this one, son.” His dad puts his hand out as Carrick reaches for his wallet.

“Okay. Cheers, Da.”

Owen is the only person I’ve seen Carrick let pay for anything. Must be a father-son thing.

Once the bill is settled, I get up from my seat. Carrick helps me into my coat.

“You coming back to the hotel with us?” Carrick asks Owen as we leave the restaurant.

“No, I have somewhere to be.” He nods in the direction of a waiting town car. “But I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

“Was lovely spending time with you outside of work, Andi.” Owen kisses my cheek.

“You, too.” My smile is tight.

As we start walking, Carrick puts his arm around my shoulders, and I put mine around his back. His free hand takes hold of my hand, sliding his fingers through mine, holding it against his hip.

“I’m sure my dad’s got a hook-up in every country we go to—that, or he has a gambling problem.” He chuckles to himself.

“What makes you say that?”

“Ah, for at least one of the nights we’re in each country, he just always disappears off to ‘somewhere to be’ with no further explanation.”

“Has there been anyone serious since…your mum?”

“There was no one when I was a kid, none that I knew of. Then, there were a few girlfriends when I got a bit older, but his focus has always been on my racing career.”

“He loves you a lot.”

“Yeah, he does. Sometimes too much. I think he’s that way because he feels he has to make up for my mother leaving.”

“You can’t blame him for that.”

“I know.”

“My mum’s the same,” I tell him. “Since my dad…she’s a bit overprotective at times.”

“How’s she coping with you being away, traveling the world?”

“She’s slowly getting better about it.” I laugh lightly.

“How about you dating me—a driver? How does she feel about that?”

He’s never really asked about my mum’s opinion about him before. I’m guessing seeing his dad tonight has sparked that.

“She’s happy, if I’m happy.”

Honestly, she hasn’t said much when I tell her things about Carrick and me. I think a lot of that has to do with his reputation. And a part of what he does for a living, too.

“And are you?”

I smile wide. “Very.”

He leans in and kisses me. “Me, too. Like I’ve never been before.”

Taking a hold of his hand that’s over my shoulder, I lift it to my lips, pressing a kiss to it. I snuggle into his side.

As we walk on, I hear the soft sound of Ed Sheeran’s “Thinking Out Loud” start to play from the speakers outside a restaurant just across the street where people are sitting out front, dining in the beautiful evening.

“I love this song,” I murmur.

Bringing me to a stop, Carrick says, “Dance with me?”

I glance around. “Uh, here?”

“Yeah, here. I want to dance with my girl under the stars.” He gestures to the bright night sky.

Then, he twirls me in his arms, so I’m facing him. Moving his arm from my shoulder to my waist, his free hand takes my hand.

“You want to dance right here in the street, next to a litter bin?” I toss a glance in the bin’s direction.

He slides a glance at it, a grin sliding onto his face. “You can’t deny the romance of what a bin can bring to a situation.”

“Oh, yeah, all that dirty litter…so sexy.” I start laughing, loving the feel of his own laughter against me.

“Shut up, and dance with me. You’re killing the moment.”

“Okay,” I acquiesce, letting him move us to the music. But I’m feeling self-conscious and a little silly. I cast a glance at the restaurant across the way. “People are staring,” I whisper.

“So, let them stare. I don’t care because I’m not looking at them. I’m only looking at you.”

That brings my eyes to his. He’s looking at me like he always does—with such intensity that I feel it deep inside my heart, curling around the place where he’s already deeply embedded.

“What if someone recognizes you?” I ask just to try to keep myself grounded and not lose myself in him completely.

But then he goes and says, “Then, they’ll see me dancing with my girl, whom I’m crazy about.” He stops dancing, his eyes serious. “And I am, babe, completely fucking head over heels crazy about you.”

Any sense of grounding I had floats up to the stars along with my heart. Leaning in, I rest my forehead against his, closing my eyes against the depth of emotions I’m feeling. “I’m crazy about you, too.”

And I stay there dancing with him on that street in Budapest until the song fades, knowing that the time I have with him is quickly running out and not knowing how to stop it from happening.

I PRESS MY FINGERTIPS
to the cool glass as I stare out of the window, looking out at the illuminated Marina Bay Street Circuit that Carrick will be racing on tomorrow.

It’s late. Carrick’s in bed sleeping, and I’m scared.

My fears have been growing exponentially with each race. For the days running up to each one, I struggle to sleep. My mind is all over the place. And I feel like I don’t get a break from the worry because the races come around so quick.

I’m exhausted, drained, and so very confused.

And here, in Singapore, I’m feeling the worst I ever have. I’m really struggling, and I don’t know if it’s because tomorrow’s race is at night—nine p.m., in fact. It’s not that Singapore has a bad track. It’s just darkness, even though illuminated, hinders visibility.

With the thought of Carrick climbing into his car and going out on the track tomorrow night…I feel sick to my stomach.

Carrick knows that, since we got together, I worry about the races. He knows I’m worried about this one. He just doesn’t know the extent.

He doesn’t know about the panic attacks.

And I don’t want to talk to him in detail about them or my fears because there’s nothing he can do or say to make me feel better. The only way I would feel better was if he weren’t racing, and that’s never going to happen.

One, because he can’t stop. Racing is who he is. And two, I would never ask that of him and not just because I know what his answer would be.

Racing is what makes Carrick. It’s in the air he breathes, the blood that runs through his veins.

And even though I know all of this, I know this is who he is, it doesn’t abate my fears.

It’s bleeding into everything I do. I’m beyond meticulous with checking his car, so much more than I used to be. Where I was vigorous with the safety checks on his car before, now, I’m obsessive. I’m checking everything three or four times. So painstakingly thorough about it that Ben is starting to notice.

Every time Carrick pulls out onto the track, I don’t breathe until he’s come back in safely.

Is this how my mum felt all the time when my dad was racing?

All those years with him, sick with the worry that one race could be his last.

Until it finally was.

I rest my forehead against the cool glass, trying to still my racing thoughts.

“What are you doing, babe?”

The sound of Carrick’s rough sleepy voice catches me off guard, freezing my muscles in place.

Forcing myself to relax, I turn to him. “I couldn’t sleep.”