Revved (42 page)

Please be okay, baby. Please.

Then, I see Carrick’s hand move. Yanking off the steering wheel, he throws it out of the car.

He’s okay. Thank God he’s okay.

There’s a collective exhalation of relief.

I’m relieved. Beyond relieved. But still, I can’t breathe.

Why can’t I breathe?

Because he could have died. That crash could have killed him. One wrong hit—that’s all it takes, and he’s dead.

Just like my dad.

“Thank God he’s okay. I was worried there for a second.” Petra is beside me, exhaling her relief, her arm around my waist.

I didn’t even know she was here.

“Hey, you okay?” she asks me.

I blankly stare back at her. I try to move my lips, but nothing’s working as it should. All I can do is nod my mute head.

He could have died. He was lucky this time.

But what about next time?

I move my eyes back to the screen. Carrick’s out of the car now, walking back to the pits. He looks angry. He’ll be mad and frustrated at coming out of the race.

He’s okay. He’s coming back.

But still, I can’t breathe.

Why can’t I breathe?

Because he could be dead right now. Just like your dad. He could have died in that car.

My head starts to spin. My vision blurring. My heart pounding. Blood roaring in my ears. The tips of my fingers tingling.

Panic slides her ugly hands around my throat and squeezes.

I have to get out of here. I can’t do this.

Stumbling away from Petra, I mumble something incoherent. I hear her call after me, but I can’t stop.

I break out of the garage and into the empty hallway, gasping for air.

I can’t breathe.

I see a water fountain and stumble toward it. Running the cold water, I put my mouth to it, wetting my dry lips. Breaths still burning my throat, my chest heaving, I lean my weighted body against the fountain, and I place my wrist under the running water—a trick I read about to help try to calm a racing pulse in the midst of a panic attack.

It takes for what feels like forever for me to maintain some form of control. For the blackness to clear from my vision.

But I’m still not right. My mind is still restless with fear. I’m still agitated.

All I can think and see are the what-ifs.

What if his car had hit the wall at the wrong angle?
Instead of walking, he would have been carried out of there.

What if the gas tank had ruptured on impact? What if the car had caught fire?
He wouldn’t have even had the chance to be carried out of there because he would be…

Jesus.
My vision blurs again. I rub roughly at my eyes.

I can’t do this anymore.

I can’t keep feeling like this. I can’t go there again. I can’t lose someone I love in that way.

And Carrick deserves better than me. Better than I can give him.

Any normal girlfriend would have been running toward him, needing to feel him and touch him to know that he’s okay.

Not like me—running away, hiding out in the hallway, having a panic attack—because it’s all too much to deal with.

He deserves so much more. I’m not strong enough to be with him. I’m broken.

His dad was right. I should leave him now while the damage is minimal. I should have left him weeks ago. I should never have let it get this far.

I was just fooling myself, thinking I could do this.

Because I can’t.

As I turn from the fountain, I see Carrick’s vending machine filled with his chocolate. It sets off an intense crushing pain in my heart.

“Andressa?”

Closing my eyes on the sound of Carrick’s voice, I take a deep breath before opening them and turning to face him.

He looks confused. Pissed off. But scared. It’s there in his eyes, a tiny flicker of fear and uncertainty.

“What are you doing out here? I was looking for you.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, my voice shaking.

“I’m fine.” He brushes my words off with impatience. “What I’m not fine about is getting back from the track and you not being there.”

“I-I’m sorry.” My lips tremble.

“What’s going on, babe? Are you okay?” He takes a step toward me.

Instead of staying put or moving toward him, I take a step back. And he understands instantly. I see it clearly in the show of dismay that passes over his face.

“Andressa…what’s going on?” His voice wavers.

“I-I just…I don’t think I can do this anymore.” The words leave me in a breathless rush.

“You can’t do…
what
anymore?” His words are carefully spoken. Almost like he’s afraid to say them for fear of what will come.

I take a deep breath. “This.” I gesture a helpless hand between us.

“Babe, if this is about the accident…it was just a bump.”

“It wasn’t just a fucking bump!” The words rip from my throat. “You could have died out there!”

“Bullshit. It was minor. I’ve had worse. I’m here, Andressa, and I’m fine.”

He tries to placate me with his hands and words as he attempts to move closer to me, but I ward him off, moving further away.

He doesn’t like that. It’s clearly written all over his face in lines of deep frustration. But I can’t absorb anything of him. All I’m attuned to are my own fears right now.

It’s almost like it’s not really me standing here, thinking and saying these things. It’s like I’ve stepped out of my body, handed it over to someone else, and I’m staring back at myself in abstract horror, unable to stop myself from destroying the best thing I’ve ever had. Because all that matters right now is stopping the fear and panic, willing to do anything to make the noise in my head stop, make the debilitating and crushing panic stop, even if that means wrecking everything.

Him. Me. Us.

Tears start running down my face. “You’re fine now, but what about the next time? One wrong hit. That’s all it takes, and then you’re gone—forever. I thought I could do this…but I can’t. I’m sorry.” My head is shaking, and I’m stepping backward, farther away from him.

In this moment, I just need to get away. I can’t see past the fear. I’m blinded by it. And right now, I will do anything to stop feeling this way.

Turning mid-stride, I start walking away. But he grabs my arm from behind, pulling me back to him.

There’s fire and ire and hurt in his eyes. “That’s it?” he growls. “You say you can’t do this anymore, and then you just fucking walk away?”

My mind is reeling. I feel trapped, cornered like a wild animal. And like a wild animal, I’ll do what’s necessary to get away even if it means hurting the one person who doesn’t deserve to be hurt by me.

“Yes, that’s exactly how it is! I told you that I can’t do this anymore! I tried, and it’s not working. Now, let me go.” I tug at my arm, but his hold is too strong, and it’s like he doesn’t even feel me.

“I can’t fucking believe this…all this time together…I…” He pauses, taking a ragged, painful-sounding breath. Then, his eyes meet mine, holding me with such a power I can’t even begin to explain. “Jesus…Andressa, is this really happening? Are you really…leaving me?”

Deep breath…

“Yes. I am.”

The look on his face…I never want to see that look on anyone’s face ever again. I think I’m actually witnessing heartbreak in this moment, and I hate myself for it. Abhorrently hate myself.

He drops my arm like I’ve just scolded him.

“I’m sorry…” My voice breaks, tears running over my lips into my mouth. My eyes lower with shame and the pain of my own heart breaking. I turn and start walking away again.

“Andressa! You can’t just leave like this! You can’t leave me!” The panic in his voice is palpable.

It slices over my skin like the razor blades of pain I deserve, burrowing deep inside, splintering into my bones, crucifying me.

I keep my lips pressed together. If I part them, I’m afraid I’ll weaken and turn back to him and take it all back. So, I continue walking away from the only man I’ve ever loved.

“You’re leaving because you’re afraid, but I’m not your dad, Andressa! Do you hear me? I’m not him. I’m not gonna die on those fucking tracks!”

Stopping at the mention of my father, I turn back to Carrick. “You don’t know that!” I cry out. “I believed with all my heart that my dad wouldn’t die out there! I was so fucking sure of it! I thought because he was the greatest driver in the world that it somehow made him invincible! Immune to death. That he would never die. And I was fucking wrong!” I scream, my chest heaving with emotion. “One wrong move in that car, that’s all it takes, and then you’re gone—forever.” My voice is cold, hard, detached. I don’t even recognize myself right now. “I fell victim to my certainty once, and it tore me apart. I won’t do it again.”

I think it’s in this moment that he truly realizes that this is actually happening.

His hard mask slips into place, armoring himself against me. “You go, and we’re done for good. You walk out that door. I won’t chase you.” His voice is rough with emotion but serious, deadly serious.

A tremor of fear runs through me, seeping into my consciousness. A tiny part of the real me is screaming that I’m making the biggest mistake of my life.

No. I have to do this. It’s the right thing for the both of us.

I take a deep breath. Wrapping my arms around myself, I fix my eyes on his. “That’s the point…I don’t want you to chase me.”

I turn away but not before seeing the debilitating pain filling his eyes. It shreds me with each step I take away from him.

“Andressa…just fucking wait…please! I-I…love you!”

I freeze. My breath leaving me in a painful rush, like I’ve just been punched in the chest, as his words ricochet through me. My body jolting, knees buckling, I have to fight to take in air to stay on my feet.

I hear him move toward me, his low voice nearing. “
Please
. I love you. That has to count for something. Just…don’t go.”

“I love you, too,” I whisper the words so quiet that he won’t hear. But I needed to say it to him just once.

I breathe through the agony, and tears start to spill down my cheeks again. I pull in a strengthening breath. Then, I start walking, and I don’t stop until I’m out the door and out of his life.

REGRET
…it slows down time in the worst possible way. Like a silent killer, it slides its hand around your throat and chokes the life out of you.

Even though I know leaving Carrick was the right thing to do, it hasn’t stopped the regret from creeping in.

When I ran, I was in a haze, trapped in a fog of panic and fear.

But once the fog lifted, it hit me with the force of a freight train. It was like the settling after the storm, coming out to see the wreckage.

I’d left him. I’d actually left him. There was no going back.

I would never again be able to talk to him, see him, be close to him…touch him ever again.

I lost it for a few days there. I couldn’t pull myself out of bed. I couldn’t stop crying. I was a mess.

I still am in a lot of ways.

I know it sounds crazy…that I sound crazy. At times, I think I might actually be readying to board the batshit crazy train. But that night in Singapore, the build up to it, I was so afraid, so consumed by everything I was feeling that I couldn’t see past it.