“The difference is, you were not driving a car built by God knows who at 200 mph.”
“It’s 160, Ladykiller. I mean, I will get to 200, but I need to practice a little more.”
Just thinking about it has my heart pumping. 200 mph will give me the jolt of electricity I need to feel alive. Life has been quite dull since King died, and if I die tomorrow, I prefer to at least take a chance on life.
I’m a little wild, so what?
It’s not like I’m playing Russian roulette with a gun to my temple.
I know what I’m doing.
I push the limits in the confines of sports that have rules to follow.
I’m not suicidal, nor do I want to die. I just want to feel alive.
Not that I’ve said anything to those two. They’d drag me to therapy.
“Look, Smurfette,” Ashton loves giving ridiculous nicknames. Since I dyed a few strands of my blonde hair blue, I became a Smurf. As she has red hair, I gave her a new nickname as well.
“Yes, Azrael?” It’s the mean orange cat in the Smurfs. I smirk, knowing she hates it. Ashton grunts to prove me right.
“All we’re saying is that you’re maybe pushing your luck a little too far. I know you love cars, you love driving and living on the edge, but racing cars is a little dangerous.”
“More dangerous than giving your life for your country on a mission gone wrong?”
Quinn and Ashton look at me with sadness in their eyes. Yeah, I’m playing the dead fiancé card. I’m not a widow per se, we weren’t married.
A fact King’s mother reminded me of over and over.
She always disapproved of me and our relationship, so when the time came to help each other through the burden that was King’s passing. She shut me out and made me feel like the dirty piece of gum under her shoe.
Which I was.
He hadn’t even told her we were engaged.
I swallow the ball of anger and disappointment I still feel about the way I was treated after his death and breathe in.
“Of course not. But we’re highly trained for that, and we don’t do it for the thrill,” Quinn says more softly than before.
“Right…” I want to call bullshit, but we had this fight so many times, I prefer to back down. We don’t see eye to eye on the subject.
If I knew I was with someone that could die, if I knew the risks he took and why he took them, in hindsight, I came to realize that I was maybe lying to myself thinking I was strong enough to shoulder it. If his death has taught me anything, it’s that life is too short to cry over people and get trapped in a relationship. Move on. Live your life to the fullest. Embrace who you really are.
“Maybe you could talk with Mark again about working for them as a receptionist?” I look at Ashton with daggers in my eyes.
Glorified babysitting. That’s what this is.
Because I know how to pick up a phone, Ashton and Quinn want me to work at Cole Security Forces, so Mark and the guys can keep an eye on me at all times.
Our friend Natalie works there too. She went through agony when her husband disappeared. So talking to her should help. Doesn’t matter that the guy came back and was PTSD as fuck. Doesn’t matter she fell in love with someone else and now lives happily ever after.
They all tell me she can relate.
But can she?
“If I work for Mark, it won’t be to answer a damned phone… Now, if it’s for you two to be up my ass, I have better places to be. I was telling you guys just to let you know why I wouldn’t be around much over the next month or so, not for me to get a stupid lecture on my way of life. But thank you, I feel so much better knowing you got my back.” I pass them and make my way to the door.
I was never close with my family, so if I were to lose my closest friends, it would be hard, but I’d never stand in the way of someone rejecting who I am or how I live my life.
“Tessa, don’t…” I shake my head for them to stop speaking. I understand their worries. I understand Quinn made a promise he needs to uphold. I understand we became friends more because of circumstances than by choice. But I can’t have them telling me that I need help, that I need to talk to someone, that I need to calm down. Not again. Not ever, again.
Driving away, I’m not surprised to get a call from Mark. Of course, Ashton called him to talk about my new endeavors. Of course, he decided to call me.
“Murdock,” he says when I pick up. Again with that stupid Marvel nickname.
“What do you want, Dixon? I’m letting you know I’m not in the mood for yet another lecture about racing cars.”
“Oh, I know. I’m not calling for that. In fact, I need a favor.” As suspicious as I am of Mark and his intentions, I’m curious how I could help him.
“I’m listening.”
“A very good friend of mine is arriving in town tomorrow. Quite a sad story. His fiancée died in a car accident five years ago. Because you’re not interested in men, and it seems he’s taking to bed anything with a pulse, I thought you two could meet.”
“And share stories of dead fiancés?” I deadpan. Why the heck would I take care of a lost manwhore?
“Not really. He’s coming because we need him for a job, but from what I’ve heard, he doesn’t drive anymore since his girl died. Guilt and some unresolved shit that I hope I can help him get through. Anyhow, I thought maybe you could be his driver. We’ll pay you, of course.”
“What does
