Chapter 36
[Trinity]
Attending the race was the last thing I wanted to do, but Dart had invited me. He asked me to be there for him, and I wanted to. I really wanted to. I wanted to understand what Dart loved. Wanted to witness what brought him such joy.
But triggers were going off inside me like the warning lights on a dashboard. Ones that I can’t interpret but somehow know mean danger.
That probably, as in Dart’s career was probably over flipped through my head on repeat. Because on the other side of probably over, was probably not.
And just hearing Max’s name accelerated my heart rate.
Met a guy named Max Larsen tonight. He works for a race team named Velocity.
That Max Larsen guy I told you about . . . he thinks I have potential as a driver.
Trin, what would you think about moving to Florida? Getting a fresh start?
I want to be a racecar driver. Come with me.
This time, I didn’t want to tell him no. He wasn’t asking me to move or give up my life, he simply wanted a date night . . . at the track.
I was even a little excited to see what he loved so much. See the enthusiasm on his face.
But so much happened at once.
Meeting Max and the drop of those damn keys into Dart’s hands. That Jumbotron welcoming him. The fans seeking photographs and autographs.
I was so damn proud of him, so thankful for getting a glimpse of his world, but I was still conflicted inside.
Dart’s overall excitement was so much more than I expected.
And I could never ask him to give that up. To give up something he loved so much. That made him feel so special.
He missed it. His quiet yeah haunted me.
As we drove to the event, Dart was silent at first, but then he grew more vocal, sharing race stories and shenanigans from the circuit.
Not like I hadn’t heard tales before, but this was different.
His animation grew with every mile, and I wanted to be just as enthusiastic for him, but I couldn’t seem to settle the unease in my gut.
Was he happy at home? Was he happy with us? Was he happy with Mirabelle?
Dart revved my engine, but was revving enough?
When we pulled into that lot, cold shivers of dread chilled me.
An intuition that something lingered around the bend of the dark road ahead.
Dart’s love for the sport.
Dart missing it.
I had to set him free. I couldn’t take any of that away from him, that sense of purpose he felt, he deserved.
I wanted him to fly through life, like I said. Not just float.
I shouldn’t have left like I did, but I also couldn’t sit there and watch the race. Watch the expression on Dart’s face shift between love for a sport and the pain of losing it.
I had no doubt Dart loved me. Loved Mirabelle.
But I knew who I was. I’m a nurse, a mother, a homemaker. Those things bring me joy.
I couldn’t take from Dart something that brought him so much pleasure.
After a quick text to Dart, once the ride share picked me up, I return home. The ride was long, time added because I initially had to wait. The canyon wasn’t exactly on the edge of a town.
Mirabelle was with Mom, and I should have gone to collect her, but I needed more time alone.
I’d walked away from Dart.
I’d severed my own heart to let his be free.
Dart would always hold a special space inside me. He’d broken me and put me back together, patching up the cracks he initially made, then made me even stronger.
I could do this for him. I could let him go.
Once upon a time, I had given up on a dream—motherhood—until a miracle placed a baby at my door.
But Dart has struggled to find something that drives him, stumbling upon it because of our repeated tragedies.
I couldn’t take that away from him.
When I finally reach my house, I stumble inside, finding my legs almost too weak to carry me. My pulse is slow, sluggish even. I move like I’m forcing myself through deep snow. I shiver in the imaginary cold, despite the mid-August temperature.
Inside the house, I pause, staring at the poster in my front hallway. The giant pussy. The gorgeous flower.
This is my happy place. My home, once remodeled by Dart, additionally decorated with love because of Mirabelle.
Most recently, Dart replaced the roof, fixed the shower, and added a back deck. He’d been telling me about his plans to build Mirabelle a playhouse and rehab the detached garage. He’d been excited to continue his found projects . . . or so I thought.
The joy of a new garage or a fun playhouse had to pale against the allure of racing.
I cared for Dart. And I refused to hold him back.
I hang his hat on my coatrack, wondering if he’ll leave it behind for me. A painful yet bright reminder of the reconciliation we had. The new love we shared recently.
As I slog up the staircase, I hold the railing to balance my efforts. Once inside my room, I try to ignore the large bed. The space where Dart and I have reconnected. His scent lingers in the bathroom. Pine and asphalt forever burned into my senses.
I tug off my boots and peel myself out of my dress.
I stare at myself in the mirror. In only my underwear and bra, I study my subtle curves. The swell of my breasts. The flatness of my belly.
Once upon a time, I cried that I’d never earn stretch marks. My stomach wouldn’t swell. I wouldn’t bear a child from my body.
But now I have Mirabelle.
She is my purpose.
Tears fall, fast and furious, and I slip out of my bra, pulling on a comfy pair of loose sweats and a T-shirt that was draped at the end of the bed, realizing too late that it belongs to Dart.
I’m engulfed in fresh pine and another hint of asphalt when I bring the collar to my nose and then wipe my tears with the edge of the shirt.
My feet clomp, feeling too heavy to lift, as I traipse back down the stairs in need of an oversize glass of wine. I pass the living room without a glance and head directly for the kitchen.
But my feet suddenly stall, trapped by the wood underneath them. My heart bangs against my ribcage. I blink like that will help me process what I think I saw.
I spin, racing the short distance back to the archway between the living room and the hallway.
Dart stands beside the pink couch. The same one he laid on after breaking into the house months ago. The same one where I kissed him with hurt in my heart while confusingly still attracted to him. The same one where he’s cuddled Mirabelle and held me countless times.
“How?” My breath escapes me like a cloud. “What?” I thunder, low and restless. “Why?”
Dart rushes toward me, stopping short of reaching me, and tugging a ballcap off his head.
“Because I fucking love you.”
“But racing . . .”
“Fuck racing,” he practically shouts, setting his hands on my upper arms. “I love you more, Trin. So much more.”
“But the keys?” I whisper, my throat burning. “You took those keys from Max.”
Dart chuckles, and I’m startled by the sound, struggling to pull out of his grasp.
He holds me tighter. “Those keys are for the Camaro.”
The Chevy Camaro he’d gotten for a steal and fixed up on his own. I hadn’t exactly forgotten the car, I’d simply put it out of my head.
“Max brought it back to me.” Dart pauses. “Well, he brought it somewhere to the race.”
Dart stares at me, his eyes wild, pinging from one of mine to the other.
“I’d given Max the car as collateral when I first started racing. Until I had my first big win. But as I traveled often and used Velocity’s cars, he’s been holding onto it for me.”
“I thought . . . ” I swallow thickly. “I thought he was giving you a car again. A team car.”
Dart chuckles, sliding his hands to the side of my neck and pausing there. “No. No, I am not going back to racing.”
I’m stunned, and I blink like that will make me hear him better. Like that will make the words clearer.
“But you want to go back,” I state. A fact I saw written on his face while I stood beside him.
“Says who?” His brows lift, his tone teasing. “I’m not going back to racing, Trin. My life is here. With you. With Mirabelle.”
“But you love racing,” I argue. “The speed. The rush.”
“I do. And I’ll love to watch it, but I’m not going to participate in it anymore. I don’t want to. I’m happy to slow down. Time with Mirabelle is going to go faster than we think.”
I’m still flabbergasted. “You need purpose.”
My hands have been hanging by my side, but I wave one, which knocks into his chest. He releases my neck and catches my hand, pinning it against him, dragging it up over his heart.
“You’re my purpose, Trin. You and Mirabelle.” He lowers his head so he meets my eyes, holding them, like he wants me to really hear him, feel him.
“I’d been chasing a high that never felt fulfilled.
Never fully complete. My situation had become a racetrack metaphor, Trin.
I’d been chasing taillights, going round in circles, but feeling like I’d never catch up to whatever I was following.
Even crossing a finish line hadn’t made me feel like a winner.
Not in a long time. You’re my win, Forever. You and Mirabelle.”
“Then what did Max want?” I ask, my voice cracking as I’m still trying to process how I’m enough for him. How Mirabelle is enough.
Dart shrugs. “I have no idea. As soon as my wife ran off, I chased her.”
“You didn’t have to do that.” I lower my voice and drop my gaze.
“Yeah, I did. Because I’m always going to chase you, Trin.
I’m sorry I took a detour. A bump in the road, but I love you.
You are my dream, Forever. You and Mirabelle.
I love you more than any track or car or whatever else you want to compare.
” He tips his forehead to mine. “There is no comparison.”
“I don’t want to hold you back,” I admit on a sob, fighting to swallow it back.
Dart lifts his head. “Trin, you have never held me back. Not once. You let me go, and then you took me back. I’ll always be so .
. . grateful. Did I want you there? Of course.
But did I maybe need to do it alone? I think I did.
And look where it brought me, right back to where I should have been all along. Beside you.”
“But what if you grow bored? What if you tire of diapers and bottles and taking care of Mirabelle? What if you feel restless again? What if I’m not enough again?” I make a fist, clutching it to my chest, because he’s always worried that he wasn’t enough, but what if I’m not?
“You are enough.” He chuckles, like it’s the most absurd thought he’s ever heard. “You were always enough, baby. Racing was about me, but now . . . I’m done. It was thrilling but risky, and I don’t want to risk missing out on us. On our family. Watching Mirabelle grow up. Loving you.”
“Our family,” I whisper-choke. Because he is part of our family. We are three. Mirabelle, me, and Dart.
“Am I somehow failing her?” he chokes. “Failing you? Right now. Right here. No what ifs.”
I shake my head. He’s been so present. More than I ever imagined because I never imagined Mirabelle. I never imagined this second chance with him.
“Sure, some days are tiring, maybe even stagnating, but it doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I have a new purpose.
” Dart stands taller. “I love Mirabelle. She’s my purpose.
We are my priority.” He waves between us.
“And I want to be here for all of it. The good, the bad, and the boring.” He chuckles, the sound soggy, as he removes his hands from my neck.
“I am here for us,” he chokes, swallowing hard.
Dart Rivers, who I have never seen cry in my life, has tears in his eyes.
“This is home, Trin.” He points at the floor. “You and Mirabelle are home. You’re all I need. All I’ve ever wanted.”
He swallows thickly, licking his lips. “I know we haven’t talked about it.
Not directly, but I want to be Mirabelle’s dad.
I didn’t bring it up before because the adoption felt fragile.
Unreal until it was real. But with Marissa coming to visit you and Max’s return, I just want it settled.
I want you to know where I stand. What I really want. I want her as mine too.”
“Dart.” His name is tremulous and wet, matching the tears that don’t seem to stop flowing.
He pinches the corners of his eyes. “I’ve been eternally grateful for the second chance you gave me, Trinity. Forever grateful. So, don’t ever run off on me again. Okay? Don’t shut me out. Please.”
His voice cracks, and I lunge for him, erasing the distance between us and clinging to him. His arms circle around me, binding me to him as well.
“I love you so much, Trinity,” he chokes again.
“I love you, too, baby.” I pull back and kiss him.
Through the salt on our lips and the blur in our eyes, we kiss like we can’t get close enough.
Dart pulls back first, setting his forehead against mine again. “Thank you.” He whispers. “Thank you so much, Trin.”
I stroke my fingers through the hair on the back of his head.
“Are you wearing my shirt?” he suddenly asks, breaking the tearful tension. “You know how I feel about you wearing my stuff.”
I do know how he feels, and I know how I feel putting on his things.
Like he’s mine.
“Now.” He pulls back, still looking at his shirt draping over my body. “Speaking of speed, let’s see how fast I can get you out of those clothes.”
I chuckle despite my wet cheeks. “Dart Rivers, you are so ridiculous.”
“And that’s why you love me?”
He kisses my cheek. Then the other cheek.
“One of many reasons,” I admit as he moves to my neck.
“Hey, Trin,” he whispers.
“Yeah?” I swallow as he moves toward the spot that will bring me to my knees.
“Honey.” He whispers against the juncture of my neck and shoulder. “I’m home.”
Then he nips me, and as my knees go weak, he scoops me up, taking me to our bedroom, where we can celebrate that he’s home.
Forever.