Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
Nash
T he flames are everywhere, shrieking like a feral beast. The heat is so intense that my lungs are burning, and my skin feels like it’s melting. My hands are the worst… searing pain traveling up my arms as I claw at my harness. Smoke fills the air, choking me, and I can’t see past the flickering orange haze. Somehow, I escape the wreckage.
I look up, and there she is.
Bex.
Standing on the edge of the track, her arms crossed over her chest, a strange, almost serene expression on her face. Her hair moves, though there’s no wind, and her gold-flecked eyes glint with an otherworldly light.
But it’s not right. This isn’t how it happened.
“Help me!” I yell to her, my throat feeling like I swallowed razor blades.
Matteo screams and I look over at his car. He’s thrashing in his harness, a dark outline of a burning figure through the orange blaze. We need to get to him.
I turn back to Bex, because surely… she’ll help.
She stands there, unmoving. Same placid laxity to her face.
“You have to help me get him out!” I throw my arms outward to implore her, glance down and notice my hands are still on fire. But I can’t worry about that now.
Bex’s lips part, her voice cutting through the chaos with eerie clarity. “You told me to get out of your hospital room. You clearly don’t need me.”
Her words hit like a sledgehammer. I stumble back, my feet slipping on the slick asphalt, but I remain upright. Hospital room? No. This is the track. This is where it happened.
“Bex!” I shout again, but the words are hardly more than a whisper through the heat and smoke. “Please! He’s trapped!”
She shakes her head. Her eyes are haunting, condemning. “You told me to leave.”
I turn away from her, frantic, desperate to reach Matteo. But he’s gone.
He got out! Elation hits me and I turn back to Bex, hoping she’ll show me an ounce of relief or joy.
But she’s gone too.
Nowhere to be seen and my fucking hands are still on fire. I beat them against my legs, snuffing the flames and strangely, the pain goes away. I’ll find Bex and we’ll figure it out.
Her scream shatters the night, and I whip back toward Matteo’s burning car. To my horror, Bex is inside, struggling to undo the harness. Flames rise high, pushing me back from the heat. Her eyes are wide with terror, her screams intensifying along with her thrashing.
“Help me, Nash! Don’t leave me! Please don’t leave me! I’m sorry I threw the ring at you. Please don’t punish me.”
“I won’t!” I shout back, throwing myself toward the car, ignoring the flames, the suffocating heat. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t reach her. The car is right in front of me, yet every step I take moves it farther away.
The flames rise higher, black smoke swirling. Bex’s screams start to quiet, her thrashing no more. She just stares at me with accusation but I’m powerless.
“Don’t leave me!” Her voice is raw, broken, and I don’t think I’m actually hearing it but feeling the words.
“I’m trying!” I roar back, my throat shredding. “I’m not leaving you!”
I lunge forward one last time, my hand reaching out—
And then I’m awake.
I bolt upright in bed, my chest heaving, sweat pouring. My heart pounds so hard I can feel it in my ears, and my hands shake as I rub them over my face.
“Nash?” Bex’s voice is soft, groggy. She rolls over, turns on the bedside lamp and I squint against the harsh light.
Sitting up, she scoots closer to me and puts a hand on my shoulder. I flinch from the contact, not sure if it’s because I don’t want her comfort or because I’m riddled with guilt from that nightmare in which I couldn’t save her.
Her brow is furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, trying to find my breath, my voice. “Nothing. Just a nightmare. I’m fine.”
She doesn’t buy it. Of course, she doesn’t. She goes to her knees, the sheet falling down as she turns to face me, but I can’t even appreciate her naked form. “Talk to me,” she says gently.
A hand on my thigh.
I want to shrug her off, to tell her I’m fine and go back to sleep. But the rawness of the dream clings to me, suffocating. I glance at her, the lines of worry etched across her face, and something in me cracks.
“It was the crash.” I inadvertently trace the scars over the back of one hand.
“Do you dream about it often?” she asks quietly.
“Sometimes,” I admit gruffly.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Her tone is hesitant, offering me an out if this is too uncomfortable.
I seize on it, because while I don’t ever mind talking about the crash and I’ve already told her most of the details, I’m not about to tell her she had a starring role in this one.
I shake my head again, offering her a lame smile. “It doesn’t matter,” I assure her. “It happens on occasion. Not a big deal.”
“Nash.” Her voice is firm but tender. “It does matter. You’ve been through something unimaginable. It’s normal to still have nightmares, but maybe talking about it will help.”
I don’t respond, my gaze fixed on the wall across from me.
“You’re sweating,” she murmurs, her fingers brushing along my temple. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine,” I lie, rolling away from her and off the bed. “I’m going to get some water. Do you want anything?”
“I’m good,” she murmurs and settles back against the headboard, drawing the sheets over her body.
In the kitchen, I pull a glass from her cupboard, fill it with tap water and down it. I take a few deep breaths, something I was taught early on in therapy when I was suffering a lot of anxiety and guilt. I can feel my heartbeat returning to normal.
Why the fuck was Bex in the dream? Why was she the one dying? I’m sure there’s some symbolic meaning behind it all, but I find myself not really wanting to know the answer. Things are… complicated. We crossed a line last night and I’m not sure where that leaves us. I only know I don’t want things to be complicated.
Just as I know that I’m not going to push Bex away now that we’ve… come together? Reconciled? Fucked?
“Christ,” I mutter. I don’t even know what the hell we are.
I rinse the glass, put it in the sink and return to her bedroom. She’s staring at the ceiling, her gaze coming to me when I enter.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say, and that’s the truth. I feel better now that the last dregs of the nightmare have floated away.
I slide back into the bed and we both roll to our sides, facing each other. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“You didn’t. I just hate that you’re having nightmares.”
“They’re not that often. You should have seen me right after the crash. I’m guessing maybe I’ve got some nerves with the Melbourne race coming up.”
She nods. “That seems natural. How do you feel about getting on the test track day after tomorrow?”
I blink, the question pulling me out of my own head. “What?”
“The test track,” she repeats. “Are you nervous about it?”
It’s right around the corner. The day I’ll finally get in the Titans car. We’re heading to Silvercrest, the circuit Global Prix track here in England.
I exhale slowly, her question giving me something to focus on. “A little,” I admit. “It’s been a while since I’ve been in a proper formula car. The simulator’s one thing, but the actual car…” I trail off, shrugging. “It’s different.”
She nods and takes my hand. “You’ll do fine. Better than fine. You’re Nash Sinclair.”
I can’t help the small smile that tugs at my lips. “Is that supposed to be a pep talk?”
“It’s a fact,” she says simply, and I can’t help but get lost in her eyes, her smile, the confidence in her words. “You’ve got this.”
We just lie there for a moment, the silence stretching between us. It’s not uncomfortable, though. It’s… grounding. Her presence, her belief in me—it’s more than I deserve.
“Why do you still care?” I ask, the words escaping before I can stop them. In the dream, she didn’t care. She was hurt by the way I’d treated her, and it was my fault I couldn’t save her from the flames.
That pain.
Bex blinks, taken aback. “What do you mean?”
“I mean… after everything,” I say, my voice rough. “After the way we ended, the way I treated you in the hospital… why do you still care?”
Her features soften, and she reaches up to cup my cheek. “Because I never stopped,” she says quietly. “Caring about you, I mean. No matter what happened, no matter the time that passed… I never stopped caring for you. I still lo—”
“Bex…” I start, but I don’t know how to finish. My chest tightens, a pang of something sharp and aching cutting through me with an underlying hint of panic.
She shakes her head, a sad smile playing on her lips. “It’s okay, Nash. I’m not asking for anything. I just… I need you to know that I’m not going to dwell on our past. Unless you want this to be a onetime thing, I’m going to look toward the future.”
Her words hang in the air, oppressive because I’m not sure if I can look past tomorrow. And all I can think about is the nightmare—the flames, her screams, the way I couldn’t reach her. It felt like a premonition, a warning. We didn’t work out the first time and I felt we had really tried. She’s here now, but for how long?
How long before I lose her again?
I can’t get too close. I can’t risk it. Because if I lose her again, I don’t know if I’ll survive it.
But that selfish part of me deep down isn’t willing to walk away. What we had last night… it was better than what we ever had before. I’m not sure if it’s the experiences we bring, the new lease on our careers or perhaps we’re just different people. I just know that I want… something with her.
“I don’t know if I can give you much,” I admit, pinning her with a look so she understands my truth.
Her smile is faint as she nods. “I know.”
“Maybe we just take it one day at a time,” I suggest.
“Okay.”
“Maybe without any expectations for now.”
“I understand.”
I know she does. I can hear the disappointment in her voice and my gut tells me that will never be enough for someone like her. I’m already shoring up to suffer the fallout when she concludes that she needs more than what I might be able to give her.
The ache in my chest deepens, but I don’t say anything else. I can’t. Instead, I shift to my back, pulling her with me. She doesn’t resist, her head resting on my chest as her arm wraps around my waist.
“I’m here, Nash,” she murmurs, her voice soft and soothing. “I’m here.”
And for now, that’s enough.