Chapter 19
ERICA
“Wow, you’re a real bitch, you know that? I never would’ve thought that, but damn, Rix . . . way to kick a man when he’s down.”
I whirl on Reed, who looks as shocked as I feel. “Excuse the fuck out of me, but what did you just say?” I’m hurt and confused, which translates to full-blown armor mode with spikes and verbal bombs at the ready.
Reed shakes his head disbelievingly. “I said, you’re a real bitch. I can’t believe you’re making me feel sorry for that asshole, but fuck, Rix.”
I blink, surprised at the venom in Reed’s voice. He never talks to me like this. “Stay out of it, Reed. Figured you’d be happy to see him go.” Shit, that sounds like there’s an opening for him now, and there most definitely is not.
“I asked around about him, you know. Figured if he was going to be hanging out with you, I wanted to check up on him, see if he’s the asshole I thought.
” He laughs mirthlessly. “He works on the Bennett Ranch, right? That’s the job you’re giving him shit for?
Ever heard of the Tannen Farm next door?
Or maybe you didn’t talk about that before you fucked?
Well, before you go climbing higher on that pedestal, Princess, you should know he’s right.
If anyone would understand your obsession with this place, it’d be him. ”
I have no idea what Reed is talking about. Brody said his Mom died, which is why he helped take care of Shayanne, and he’s talked about growing up around animals and ranching. But I’ve never heard him say one word about a Tannen Farm.
Reed flashes his teeth, victory in his feral grin. “Seems I know more about your boyfriend than you do. Of course, I was actually looking into his story, not just fucking him. Guess that’s the difference.”
Reed turns and stomps out, his car pulling out of the lot a hell of a lot faster than Brody’s truck did.
Has everyone lost their minds? What the hell just happened?
Manuel looks at me patiently and kindly asks, “What do you need me to do, Boss?” At least he’s rock steady. One of us has to be, and it’s certainly not me.
“I think I might’ve fucked up, Em.” I hold up a big bag from the grocery store, hearing the bottle of wine clank against the six-pack of beer. “Bad.”
“Oh, shit, get in here.” She heads straight for the kitchen to pull glasses down. I offer her the wine bottle before twisting off the cap on my first beer. I have a feeling I’m going to need all of them tonight.
I chug it down, starting the process of numbing myself from the pain. Because fuck, this hurts. A lot.
And it’s my own doing.
Emily shoves me toward the couch, and I flop to it in a heap, my legs crossing in front of me and my back curved inward around a pillow I hug tightly. But I can’t protect myself from this because it’s inside me.
“What the fuck did Brody do? Or should I just go kick his ass now?” Emily sounds like she might be willing to try it on my behalf.
“Nothing . . . well, something . . . but it was mostly me.” I grab for another beer but she holds it a few inches further than I can reach, and I’m too frustrated to lean forward and get it.
“Rix, I need something to go on here. Speak and then you’ll get the yummy treat.” She waves the bottle around by its stubby neck, taunting me with it.
I growl and lurch forward, snatching it from her. But I don’t open it, I just hold it. The label seems inordinately interesting all of a sudden, and I pick at the corner, wondering how I can put all of this.
“The long and short of it? I’m a bitch, apparently.” Beer number two opens and I toss the cap to the coffee table.
“Agreed. What else you got, because everyone knows that.” Emily sounds like that’s no big deal whatsoever, agreeing readily and easily.
I shove at her shoulder, careful not to spill on her couch. I might not deserve it, but I’m sure gonna drink this thing, not waste it by sacrificing it to her fluffy cushions. “Fuck you, you’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Does it help if I say that your bitchiness is one of the things we love most about you?” Her smile is placating, and I’m ashamed to say it works a little bit. “Get on with it. You came here for a reason, not just for me to stroke your ego, so tell me what happened.”
I sigh and swallow half of the second beer. “You asked for it, Em.” I look her in the eye, the anger still right beneath my surface. “He told me I’m a great mechanic, talented and brilliant.”
“That asshole! How dare he!” She couldn’t be more sarcastic if she tried, and she clearly thinks I’ve lost it. She’s basically right. I have.
I realize that I can’t tell her this story, not the truth of it, without telling her about racing. And I can’t do that. That’s the foundation of the whole problem to begin with. I thought Brody understood that, really got why I had to keep that secret.
You should tell your dad.
In the end, he thought he knew better than I did. Just like everyone else.
I’ve gone quiet, and Emily is searching my face for some kind of clue. She must find it because she quietly whispers, like someone other than the two of us might hear, “Does he not want you to race anymore?”
The room spins, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the beer and a half I’ve had. “What did you say?”
Emily shrugs. “I know you race, Rix. I figure Brody knows too. Did he ask you to stop? Or God forbid, tell you to stop?”
Laughter bursts past my lips, and I hope it sounds real, covering the horror bubbling up inside. “I don’t race anymore, you know that. Dad told us we couldn’t even go to the track anymore. I haven’t been there in years.”
Lies, lies, lies. I hate lying to her, but it’s for her own good.
Okay, if I’m being completely honest, it’s selfish too.
I do want to keep doing whatever the fuck I want to, but I don’t want to put that on Emily’s shoulders.
She shouldn’t have to lie for me, especially not to Dad, and I don’t know if she would, anyway.
One of Emily’s brows quirks, and she sets her wine glass down on the coffee table. She takes my beer from my hand despite my protests and sets it down too. Then she grabs my shoulders and shakes me . . . hard.
“Talk to me, dammit. I know you race, have known you raced through high school and picked it back up the same week you came back home from the Army. So quit lying and talk to me.” She’s loud, and now her whole building is more than aware that I’m racing.
I’ll probably have to swear them all to secrecy with promises of free oil changes.
Something about my brain bouncing around in the beer bath in my head makes her words click together like a puzzle. “You know. You know?” My eyes and mouth pop open wide at the same time. “Why didn’t you ever say anything? Oh, my God, Emily!”
So many things take shape . . . her occasionally stopping by to bring me dinner on random afternoons that always made me nervous because I had to leave to make the first race, her talking about the horsepower of every new model on the sales floor at the dealership, her never inviting me to Wine Wednesdays with her girlfriends, and when she told me about the new salvage yard a few towns over that was a treasure trove of goodies for my automotive heart.
Emily has the good graces to look sheepish, but she’s cut from the same cloth I am and that doesn’t last long before she bows back up.
Finger in my face, she bites out, “You should’ve told me.
I’ve given you every chance in the world to tell me, but you never did.
And I’m mad about it, have been for a while, in fact, and finally, I get to tell you . . . I’m mad at you.”
“Take a fucking number!”
I get up, pacing around the living room to deal with the shocks of electricity rushing through me. Emily knows.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
“Does Dad know?”
Emily is still sitting on the couch, looking perfectly comfortable. If anything, she looks more casual, as if getting that off her chest helped her. Well, it sure doesn’t help me.
Ugh, I am a selfish bitch, aren’t I?
She rolls her eyes. “Of course he doesn’t know. Did you think I’d narc on you?” I’m silent, not answering because yes, I absolutely assumed that she would. “You did!”
Emily’s repetition is quieter, filled with hurt. “You really thought I’d tell Dad?”
I throw my hands wide. “I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to put you in that position. I don’t want to hurt Dad, but yeah, I basically never quit. I just let him think I did.”
Emily shakes her head and pats the couch beside her.
“Okay, one problem at a time. We’ll come back to Dad.
And how mad I am at you for not telling me, because I’ve been holding on to that for quite some time, so you’d best buckle up for that shitshow because it’s coming.
” I sit, pulling the pillow back to my lap as she rants on.
“For now, tell me if I need to kill Brody. The broody, grunty asshole probably deserves it. He told you not to race too, didn’t he?
Don’t listen to him, Rix. He’s a Neanderthal, probably thinks you need a dick to push the gas pedal and only supports Danica Patrick when she’s in a bikini, lying on a car hood. ”
My brows knit together because that sounds especially personal and specific. “Uh, Em . . . what the hell are you talking about?”
She closes her eyes and breathes deeply, her fingertips and thumb pulling together in a yoga-esque motion.
“Sorry. That part was my issue, not yours. There’s a new guy at the dealership who’s pushing all my buttons.
He seems to think that because I have a vagina, I’m unqualified to sell sports cars and trucks.
Despite the fact that I put up the best numbers in the state last quarter.
” She waves her hand, refocusing on me, and though I’d love to go with the distraction she’s offering, I do need her help.
Especially if I can be honest and tell her what really happened, racing and all.