Revved (43 page)

And now I’m seeing past it, and I miss him with a physical ache. It’s not abating. If anything, it’s getting stronger.

Not much has changed about the way I felt about Carrick racing. I still worry every time he climbs into the car. I still watch on the television from the confines of my home, worrying for him the whole time. The only difference here is, I feel a sense of detachment from it. Not physically being there lessens the crazy in me I guess.

When I left him that night in Singapore, from the track, I went straight to the hotel. I quickly packed my stuff and got a cab to the airport. I had to fly to Istanbul on a connecting flight to Brazil, taking the better part of a day.

Uncle John and Petra had called me while I was on the plane. I’d had voice mails and texts from both of them. While I was in Istanbul, waiting on my flight to Brazil, I texted them both, telling them I was fine and that I would call when I could. I also texted my mum to tell her I was coming home. I just couldn’t deal with talking to anyone at that point.

It took me forever to get home to Brazil, and I was exhausted and drained by the time I landed in São Paulo. My mum was waiting at the airport for me.

I was so relieved to see her standing there. I fell into her arms in the heap of mess that I was. She didn’t ask anything. She just held me and stroked my hair, soothing me.

I haven’t really talked to Mum—or with anyone for that matter—about what happened. All she knows is that I broke things off with Carrick, and I left the team.

I have spoken to Petra and Uncle John. I called them my first day back in Brazil after I’d cried a river to my mum. I didn’t expand on anything that had happened. I just told them that I couldn’t be with Carrick anymore. That it wasn’t working for me. I think they both knew the real reason, but they didn’t question me on it, which I was grateful for.

I apologized profusely to Uncle John for just leaving him in the lurch like that.

He told me to stop being daft, and then he asked when I was coming back.

I told him that I wouldn’t be returning.

He won’t have it though. He won’t fill my job. He’s hired a temporary mechanic, some guy called Pete, to cover my work until I do come back.

But how can I?

Carrick said if I left he wouldn’t chase me. He meant that.

There’s been nothing. No calls or texts. Not that I expected there to be. But I guess…I don’t know. I don’t know what I expected.

But it’s right this way. Clean break.

You think it’d make things easier. It doesn’t. It makes them harder somehow.

Not being with Carrick, I feel like I’ve lost a limb. Nothing could ever have prepared me for how badly I feel at not being with him.

I thought living with the fear over his races was bad. It was child’s play compared to how I feel now.

So, why don’t I go back? Why don’t I call him up and tell him I’m sorry and beg him to take me back?

Because nothing’s changed. I’m still me. I’m still not good enough for him. I walked away from him, and I hurt him.

And he’s moved on now anyway.

Not with anyone else—well, not that I know of. But after I left, I couldn’t help myself from looking for news of him.

In the beginning, there wasn’t much. News on how his poles had been slipping back. I felt the blame for that immensely. And there was a photo of him taken a few weeks after we’d broken up. He didn’t look good. He was pictured leaving a sponsor dinner with his dad. He was dressed in jeans and a shirt, unshaven. He looked tired.

It hurt me that he looked bad, that he was clearly hurting, but a dark part of me was relieved to know that he wasn’t over me.

But then a few weeks ago, I saw news that his poles were picking up and that he’d taken first place in both his American and Mexican races.

I was happy for that.

Then, yesterday, I saw a picture of him here in Brazil. He’s in São Paulo for the penultimate leg of the tour. He was at some event, surrounded by models, and it knocked me off-kilter.

He looked better. He looked like Carrick. He was smiling. He was happy.

It felt like a punch in the gut, seeing that picture, knowing that he’s over me now. I know it’s hurt that I deserve, but that doesn’t make me feel any less shitty.

I knew it was coming, I just didn’t know how hard it would be to know he was over me. And I guess just knowing that he’s here, only an hour’s drive away from me, is making things hurt more.

Even more so right now because I’m on my way into São Paulo to have dinner with Uncle John, Petra, and Ben. I’m driving in. I borrowed my mum’s car to save me from having to take the train. Mum was invited tonight, but she already had plans. So, we’re going to have dinner another night with Uncle John before he leaves.

I’m meeting them at a restaurant called Pizzaria Speranza. It’s a great place with amazing pizza. I’m trying not to think about how much Carrick would love it there.

I’m so looking forward to seeing the three of them. It’ll be nice to see them, catch up. I’ve talked to them on the phone, but it’s not the same. I miss them.

It’s funny how I got so attached so soon—well, I mean, with Petra and Ben. I was already attached to my Uncle John. I guess it’s from being on the road together. You spend way more time together than you normally would.

I’ve resolved myself not to ask how Carrick is. I’ve refrained from mentioning him when I speak to them on the phone. But there has been the odd occasion when his name has come up with Petra. Especially in the beginning after I left, she would tell me how much he was missing me.

It was hard to hear. And it made it even harder to stay away.

But I’m poison to Carrick. He doesn’t need me in his life. He’s better off without me, and I think he’s realized that now.

I park in front of the restaurant. They’re already here, seated outside. So, the moment I’m there, they’re on me.

Petra is the first to reach me, and she hugs the life out of me. “Bloody hell! I’ve missed you!”

“Missed you, too, Pet,” I say, feeling a rush of emotion.

Holding me back by the shoulders, she stares into my face. “Not saying that you look like shit, but you look tired, and you’ve definitely lost weight, and there wasn’t much there to lose. You doing okay?”

“I’m doing fine.” I brush her off with a smile.

I’m not fine. She knows that. I know that. And she’s right. I have lost weight. When I’m down, I’m one of those people who loses their appetite.

“Good to see you, Andi.” Ben moves in to give me a hug. “It’s just not the same around the garage without you.”

“Aw, Ben, I’m really feeling the love right now.” I laugh against him, but honestly, I’m fighting tears.

The moment Ben releases me, Uncle John’s lifting me off my feet into a bear hug. “Missed you, kiddo. I just got you back, and you’ve gone and bloody left me again.”

Uncle John rarely shows emotion, but I hear it clear in his voice. And then I see it shining in his eyes when I pull back to look at him.

I give him a sad look, wishing so badly that things were different, that I was different. “Missed you, too, Uncle John.” I press a kiss to his stubbly cheek before he lowers me back to my feet. “But we’re here now, so come on. Let’s get this party started!” I force a big smile and lightness into my voice.

Petra grabs a hold of my hand and leads me over to our table, sitting me next to her. “So, what’s good to drink here?”

“Drink?” Ben chuckles. “Are we not eating?”

“Yes, of course, we’re eating.” She gives him a look. “But the important thing is first—alcohol.” She grins, making me laugh.

God, I’ve missed these guys.

And I try not to focus on the one person I’m missing most.

“I’ll drive you back. It’s on my way.”

“You sure?” Uncle John checks.

“Of course. Seems silly, you all getting a taxi back when I’m passing that way.”

We’ve been at the restaurant for hours, just eating and having a laugh. I haven’t been drinking since I’m driving, but the three of them have put some beer away, and Petra is definitely merry.

We all pile into my car, and in no time, I’m pulling up to the front of their hotel.

I get out of my car, so I can say good-bye to them properly.

I’m just hugging Ben good-bye when I see
him
. He’s leaving the hotel with his dad.

My heart stops at the sight of him. Everything else around me fades away.

The constant ache that I have learned to live with since leaving him intensifies, leaving me breathless.

I close my eyes on the pain, but I feel it the instant he sees me. Almost like he’s touching my skin with his hands, I feel his eyes touch upon me.

I look straight at him, noting his shock at seeing me.

I move away from Ben, and my eyes follow Carrick as he walks toward me.

My body starts to tremble, my heart beating in double-time.

He stops a few feet away. He’s dressed in jeans and a team T-shirt. He looks beautiful.

“Andressa…”

Hearing his voice saying my name is like having a glass of water in the arid desert, only to find that it’s not real but a mirage.

“Hi.” My voice is weak with everything.

“We’ll leave you to it.” Uncle John presses a kiss to my temple. “I’ll see you soon, kiddo.”

I don’t watch them leave. I can’t take my eyes off Carrick. We’re both just standing here, staring at one another.

“I’ll go get the car,” Owen says.

Carrick gives a nod of acknowledgement but still doesn’t look away from me.

Being here with him, looking into his eyes, I feel like I’m drowning and coming back to life all at once.

“How…have you been?” He takes another small step closer, but somehow, it’s not close enough.

But then, nothing ever was close enough for me when it came to him.

That’s always been the problem. I feel too much when I’m around Carrick. It’s our greatest thing and my biggest downfall.

“Okay…I think. I mean…I don’t know. You?”

Finally, he looks away, his gaze sweeping the floor. I hear him blow out a breath before he brings his eyes back to mine. “Same…I guess.”

His hand is flexing at his side. He looks like he wants to touch me and run away at the same time.

I know this because I’m feeling exactly the same way.

Nothing has felt more difficult than this moment right now. I thought that the day we broke up was hard…horrific, but this seems worse somehow.

I guess because, back then, even though we were fighting…falling apart, he was still mine in a way. And now…we’re nothing but two people who used to be together.

“I was going to call you.” He clears his rough throat. “We need to talk”—my heart lifts a little—“about your car.” Then, it deflates. “It’s still in my garage, but I thought…I mean, if you’re staying here, then I can have her shipped to you. Or if you are coming back home to England, I could drive it over to your place, or you could pick her up. I mean, whatever you want. Either way…just let me know.”

My dad’s car.

Carrick’s and my car.

I feel a wave of emotions so strong that I don’t know what to do with myself.

That car symbolizes everything that mattered in my life.

It was what finally brought Carrick and me together.

I have to let it go.
It’s the right thing to do.

Taking a deep breath, I hold my emotions back. “Thank you…so much. But I can’t keep the car. It doesn’t feel right, not now.”

His brows draw together, and I can see a world of hurt in his eyes. “She’s your car, Andressa. I bought her for you.” His words are spoken softly.

And they punch me straight in the heart.

“She cost so much money, Carrick. Now that we’re…no longer together, it would feel wrong of me to keep her.”

He blows out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I can’t keep the car, Andressa.” His words are quiet, pained. “Even if you no longer want her, I just…I can’t keep her. I can donate her to a charity auction or something. I don’t know. Just tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” He looks at me with pleading eyes, and there’s a desperation in his words that says so much more.

Is he not over me?

It’s wrong for me to feel a spark of hope that I have no entitlement too, but still, I feel it.

I so desperately want to reach out to him in this moment.

Keeping a hold of myself, I bind my hands together in front of me. “I’ll keep her.” I don’t want to hurt him any more than I already have.

His eyes lift a little. “Where should I have her shipped to? Here…or your place in England?”

I still have my apartment. The lease was for a year, and it’s not up yet.

Is that hope in his voice at the thought of me going back to England?

“It’s…probably best to have her shipped here.”

His eyes dim.

I wrap my arms around myself to try to ward off the chill I feel. But it’s not going anywhere because it’s coming from deep inside me. “Please make sure to send me the bill for shipping.”

“It’s okay.” He brushes me off.

But I can’t let him pay. He’s done enough for me already.

“Please let me pay for the shipping, Carrick,” I say softly.