Revved (44 page)

“Jesus, Andressa!” he snaps. “Just let me do this one last fucking thing for you.”

His impatience is driven by hurt.

I know that, and that’s why I say in a soft, sad voice, “Okay, Carrick…okay.”

The air is thick with everything. So much is left unsaid between us. It’s hard to breathe. My whole body is aching for his. Memories are painting out in the air around us, killing me slowly.

I lift my eyes, meeting with his. It’s there, that connection between us, the one that’s been there right from the start.

His lips part, like he’s just about to say something, but he’s cut off at the roar of the engine as Owen’s car pulls up in front of mine.

Breaking away from his stare, I glance at Owen’s car. “I should…let you go.”
God, this hurts—badly.
I don’t want to leave him. But I have to.

I force my feet to move toward my car. “It was really good seeing you.”

“Andressa…” His voice pulls me back, not that it would have taken much.

“Yes?” There’s hope in my voice. I know it, and I can’t help it.

“I just…wanted to…” He’s struggling. It’s hard to see, but it gives me that stupid hope again.

He rubs a hand over his hair as he blows out a breath. “I just wanted to say the garage feels empty without you.”

Then, he’s gone, getting in Owen’s car, and they’re driving away.

I watch the blink of the car lights disappearing into the traffic.

Steadying myself with a hand on my car, I breathe in deep, sucking back tears.

I unlock my car and get inside. I turn the ignition, the radio coming in midst of Beyoncé’s soulful voice saying that she’s “Scared of Lonely.”

And I break down.

It takes me fifteen minutes before I can compose myself enough to be able to drive home.

“
Bridget Jones
OR
The Holiday
?”

I stare at the DVD cases in my mum’s hands, not really feeling like watching either. I’m not exactly in the mood for a chick flick. I’ve apparently been in an “arse of a mood”—quoting my mum there—for the last few days…since I saw Carrick basically. I think these movies are her way of getting back at me.

Fingering my necklace, I say, “
Cars
.”

“
Bridget Jones
it is.” She gives me a saccharine smile.

My mum’s not exactly a fan of
Cars
. I think I’ve driven her mad with it over the years.

Turning from me, she puts the disc in the player.

“I got some treats,” she says before leaving the living room. She reappears a minute later with her hands behind her back. “When I was in town earlier, I went to that store that sells English food, and you’ll never guess what they had.” Her face is all lit up.

“Alcohol?” That’s just my wishful thinking that she bought me some.

My mum’s not really a big drinker, and she rarely drinks at home. But I could really do with a drown-my-sorrows beer right about now.

“English chocolate!” She pulls out from behind her back a big bar of Cadbury Dairy Milk and an even bigger bar of Galaxy.

Jesus Christ.

Carrick’s chocolate.

I have to stop myself from bursting into tears.

Of all the chocolate in the whole of fucking Brazil that she could have bought, she buys his chocolate—not that she knows it’s his chocolate. Still, it’s like the gods have it in for me or something.

“I know how much you hate Brazilian chocolate since it’s too bitter and how you miss chocolate from England, so I thought this might cheer you up.”

“Thanks,” I manage to get out. Flopping back on the sofa, letting my depression spread over me, I throw an arm over my face and sprawl out, my long legs taking up all the space.

On a tut, Mum lifts my legs. I move my arm from my face to see her sitting down, my legs still in her hands. Once she’s seated, she puts my legs on her lap.

“Smile, darling. I hate seeing you so sad.”

“I’m smiling.” I force one showing way too much teeth.

She gives me a sad look but doesn’t push on it. “Which one would you like?”

She holds up both bars of chocolate, unaware of my internal turmoil over that chocolate, which is raging on like a bitch.

And because I’m a masochist and I really feel like torturing myself, I take the Galaxy.

I try not to cry when I snap off a piece and put it in my mouth.

As soon as the chocolate hits my tongue, all I can think of is the last time Carrick kissed me. It was before his race in Singapore, and I could taste the chocolate on his tongue.

And now, all I can think about is how it felt to be kissed by him, to have him make love to me.

My body starts to ache for him. And I’ve got this pain in my chest, like someone’s standing on it.

Will this pain of missing him ever go away?

“No.”

What? Did I say that out loud?

I flash a glance at my mum, but she’s looking at her phone.

She sees me staring. “Sorry, darling. Your Aunt Clara wants to borrow a pair of my earrings again. But I’m telling her no as I didn’t get the last pair back. She went out, got drunk, and lost them!” she exclaims.

That makes me laugh, and I giggle at the thought of Aunt Clara drunk.

The doorbell rings.

We both look at each other.

“You expecting anyone?” Mum asks.

“Nope.”

“I wonder who is calling at this hour.”

Could it be Carrick?

My heart lifts and then deflates just as quickly when I realize I’m being stupid. He doesn’t know where I live, for starters, and it’s not like he has a reason to come see me. It’s been two days since I bumped into him outside his hotel and nothing. If he wanted to see me, he would have come by now.

“It’s only seven o’clock, Mum.” I chuckle. “And we won’t find out unless you answer the door.”

“Guess I’m answering the door then.” She gives me a look. Using the remote, she pauses the DVD, lifts my legs off her, and gets up from the sofa.

“Look through the peephole before you open the door,” I call after her.

I don’t want her to open the door to an ax murderer. But then, that might not actually be a bad thing. He could put me out of my misery.

I listen for voices to see who it is. I can hear low murmuring but nothing I can make out.

I’m just about to get up from the sofa when Mum comes back in the living room.

“You have a visitor.” She moves aside to reveal Owen Ryan standing behind her.

“Owen—Mr. Ryan, what are you doing here?” Scrambling to sit up, I touch a hand to my hair, well aware of the mess I am. I can’t remember the last time I showered, my hair is tied in a messy knot, and I’m wearing my
Still Plays with Cars
ratty old pajamas.

I’m looking less than awesome while Owen Ryan is standing here in his Savile Row suit.

But then, it’s not like I have to impress him anymore. I no longer work for him, not that I ever impressed him when I did work on the team.

“I was hoping to talk to you,” he says to me.

“Oh.” I look at my mum.

“I’ll make some drinks,” she says. “Coffee okay, Owen?”

“Yes, thank you.” He moves into the living room as my mum disappears down the hall to the kitchen. “You mind if I sit down?” He gestures to the chair.

“No, of course not.” I’m forgetting my manners.

I’m just stunned to see him here. And I’m thrown because Owen’s the closest thing to Carrick, and him being here is making me hurt all over again. Well, not that the hurting has ever stopped.

There’s that awkward moment of silence there always is when you have no clue why someone’s arrived at your home, unannounced.

So, I decide to break it with the most obvious. “Is Carrick okay?”

“Yes…and no.”

“No?” The panic in my voice is evident. I sit up straighter in my seat.

“Carrick’s fine…physically.”

“Oh, right. Okay. Good.”

“But Carrick
is
the reason I’m here.”

“Right…”

I’m not sure if I want to have any conversation with Owen Ryan about anything, let alone Carrick. Maybe he’s here about my dad’s car. Maybe he’s found out that Carrick wants me to keep it, and he thinks it’s too much money to give to me. And he’d be right. It is.

“Before you start, can I ask, how did you know where I live?” I tuck my hands under my thighs. “Did my Uncle John tell you?”

He’d better not have, or he and I will be having words.

“No. I didn’t ask John because I didn’t want anyone to know that I was coming to see you.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want Carrick to know.”

“Oh.” I free my hands and wrap my arms around myself. “So, how did you find out?”

“It wasn’t difficult. There’s only one Wolfe listed as living here in Santos.”

I freeze. He notices.

“Carrick didn’t tell me about your father.”

“Okay. So…how?”

“I had you looked into when you started working for Rybell…well, the moment I knew my son was interested in you for more than a roll in the hay.”

A roll in the hay?
I can’t even…

So, Owen has known all along who I am, who my dad was. And honestly, I’m feeling a little pissed off at him for having me checked out.

I mean, who does that, apart from people on TV shows?

“You actually had me checked out?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t look ashamed of the fact.

“Why?” I exclaim a little angrily.

“Because I love my son and because I’m his manager. His career, to a big extent, is in my hands. You know his profile. Who he dates matters. Especially if she matters to him. It’d be big news. I knew you mattered, so I had to know if there were any skeletons in your closet that could potentially damage him.”

I mattered to Carrick.

Mattered.

“And did you find anything?”

“No. But you know that already. But when I did find out that your father is William Wolfe, that presented a whole other problem for me. Not to Carrick’s career. If anything, that would have been great press for him. No, what concerned me was
you
. Your dad’s accident…I know you were there when it happened, Andi…and you were so young. It’s bound to have affected you, left a mark. And Carrick doing what he does for a living…I foresaw problems. I know you’ve never had a boyfriend that has lasted beyond a couple of months. You have a tough exterior, and you’re hard to get to know. And I know because of who Carrick is, if he cares about someone, actually lets that person in, then it’s all or nothing with him. I figured you sat somewhere in the middle. Emotional attachments don’t seem to be your thing, so I paid attention.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” I snap, turning my face away.

“Andi…I didn’t come here to upset you.”

“Then, why did you come?” Swinging my eyes back, I glare at him.

“I came because what I said that night to you in the restaurant…I was wrong.”

“Well, apparently, you were right. As you
foresaw
, I left him.”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I mean, I was wrong when I said that you should leave him sooner rather than later—before he got in too deep with you. I was wrong because he already was in too deep…still is. And I think you are, too.”

“Are you foreseeing things again?” I’m being a bitch, but I don’t care.

This guy has been nothing but an arsehole to me from the moment I met him, and now, I find out that he’s been invading my privacy. I’m bloody livid.

“I deserve that,” he says. “But no. I saw your face the other night when you saw Carrick outside the hotel. You’re in love with him, and that was when I knew you’d left him, not because you don’t care enough, but because you care too much, and you can’t handle it. You think you can’t be the person he needs.”

Is this guy a bloody mind reader? Or a psychologist in disguise?

“Carrick has never loved a woman in his life—until you. And the way he loves you…that’s not something you want to throw away. I’ve never seen him in a better place than when he was with you. And surely he’s safer in that place than the place he’s in now. He’s not doing well without you. You not being around…I know my son, and it’s killing him.

“It bothers me, what he does for a living, Andi. Of course it does, every time he’s out there on the track. He’s all I have, but I can’t stop him from doing what he loves, and I wouldn’t want to. Instead, I make sure that I’m there to keep him as safe as I possibly can.