The moment Mack is free, he turns and heads away from his pit stall. Toward Daniels. The guys try to grab him, but he shakes them off. I can see his mouth moving, like he’s reassuring them he’s just going to talk to him, but a knot forms in the pit of my stomach. I can already tell this isn’t going to end well.
Coop is right behind me. The second he catches Mack’s movement away from our group, he sighs and heads off after him. I’ve never known Mack to be a hothead, but when you’re in the heat of the moment, all bets are off.
Oliver and I hang back, Daniels’ stall too far down the road for me to see them anymore. After a few tense moments, Fish approaches from behind me. “Hey, where’d everyone go?” he asks in that familiar Southern drawl.
“Umm, I’m afraid they may have gone to see Daniels.” The moment the words are out of my mouth, Fish takes off.
After what feels like the world’s longest few minutes, the guys finally reappear, all headed our way. They’re laughing and carrying on, Mack in the middle of the crowd looking all tense and broody. This is the side of racing I rarely saw. My dad always had me in the booth with him, and if anything ever happened after a race, I stayed put.
They all stop beside their car and then scatter when a reporter approaches. Mack slips his ball cap on his head and gives her a dazzling smile. Even though I can’t hear what they’re saying, I know she’s asking about that last lap and possibly what words were exchanged with Daniels.
When she leaves, he finally looks my way. Mack seems to relax a bit as he takes in my presence off to the side. He holds up a finger for me to hold on a second before turning to Coop to have words. The crew chief leans forward, speaking directly into Mack’s ear. Whatever he says, Mack just nods curtly before receiving a pat on the back from his friend then turning and heading my way.
“Everything okay?” I whisper when he’s within earshot.
He nods, but keeps his eyes cast downward on Oliver. Mack bends down and kisses his forehead, squeezing my side the way he seems to do after these last few races. Carefully, he removes the headphones from the baby’s ears. When he finally has nothing else to distract him, he gazes my way and exhales loudly.
“That fucker tried to put me into the wall,” he whispers, only loud enough for me to hear.
“Are you sure? It didn’t look intentional, Mack. It looked like your tires just slightly rubbed when he was trying to pass you,” I reply gently, trying not to poke the bear.
He huffs. “Yeah, I’m sure. Daniels is too good of a driver to accidentally rub my tires as he passed. We had plenty of room on that corner, and I was holding my line. He intentionally moved up.”
“So what happened over there?” I ask, nodding in the direction of where they went to have a discussion with the series points leader.
“Fucker denied it. Said I came down at him because he was passing me.”
I place my hand on his chest, the rapid beat of his heart thumping angrily beneath my palm. “And we both know you’d never do that.”
His gaze locks with mine. “No, I wouldn’t. As angry as I get on the track, I’d never intentionally try to wreck someone. Even Aric Daniels.” As he says the driver’s name, he pulls a face, as if he tasted something vile.
“I figured as much,” I reassure.
“Let’s go, Cruz!” Chief hollers as they wheel the car away and to the hauler.
“Walk with me?” he asks, reaching out his hand.
I shouldn’t take it, not with so many cameras and press lingering. They’re still jonesing for any detail they can scrape up regarding Mack’s private life, especially Oliver. And me, well, I’m a new development that arrived at the same time as the baby, so they’re all dying to grab anything they can where I’m concerned. They ran photo after photo following the charity gala, and seeing us together at the track, holding hands nonetheless, would be like finding gold.
Yet, even with that major reason in opposition, I still place my hand inside his, reveling in the feel of his skin wrapped around mine. “Let’s go.”
***
The ride home is silent, the hum of the tires on the road the only sound. Yet, the noise inside my head is so loud, I swear everyone in a three-mile radius can hear it. I’m lying beside Mack, who’s passed out from the exhaustion of the day. Oliver’s in the playpen at the foot of the bed, sawing logs himself.
Yet I’m wide awake unable to relax.
I’m still all over the place, my brain and heart battling. The only thing I know is I must take a step forward. For my own sanity, I must do what’s best for me, first and foremost. I did that before, when Mack left. I did it again ten months ago when I didn’t marry Perry Masterson.
I still feel guilty where he’s concerned. Mostly because I tried to force our relationship, even when I didn’t really feel that…spark. I loved him, don’t get me wrong, but it was different. Comfortable. Safe. There was nothing reckless or wild about any part of Perry. In fact, he was as polar opposite of Mack than humanly possible, and I think that’s what attracted me to him. He was kind and sweet. We made love in a bed, always with the lights off. There was no spontaneity, no passion.
And that’s why I couldn’t go through with it.
I knew if I married Perry, I would be settling because he wasn’t the one for me. At the time, I didn’t know who that someone really was. I had lost the one person I truly believed was my forever, and Perry was
