Chapter 19 #2
“He told me I’m a good mechanic. He actually said I do miracles of engineering, and he used the words ‘brilliant’ and ‘amazing’ about me.”
“And . . . I’m not seeing how that leads to a Beerfest Bonanza on my couch.”
“He said I should tell Dad about the racing. That it would be a nice thing for him to know that he inspired me, that he’d be proud.” It feels uncomfortable to talk about myself like this, but I’m trying to give Emily the full picture.
“He’s right.” At my horrified expression, Emily adds, “Dad made this sweeping decree when he was hurting after Big John’s accident.
Oh, he meant it, every word of it, but he loves you, and if he knew you’d been keeping this from him, he’d be devastated.
What is your big plan there, anyway? To just keep hiding it forever? ”
“Uh . . . yeah, abso-fucking-lutely.” Duh, that’s obvious.
“Continue. Get to the bad part, where he says something mean or does something stupid because so far, I’m not getting it.”
My face turns hot and fiery. “He didn’t. I did. I think.” I talk into the pillow. “I don’t know. Reed said I was a bitch.”
At that, Emily’s eyes jump wide. “Holy shit, what did you say? Reed is like the quintessential sweetheart who would never . . . but he did. What did you say?”
She’s on the verge of shaking me again so I spill it all.
How Brody’s kind words had made me feel warm and fuzzy, and that had scared the shit out of me.
How his encouragement to tell Dad everything had felt like another decree from someone else who thought they knew better than I do about my own life.
How in my anger, I’d lashed out in the one way I’d known would hurt him the most.
Emily stays quiet, letting me get it all out.
When I reach the end, she shakes her head.
“So, let me get this straight. You, a known secret-keeper, let him in on your secret, which he’s kept.
And he, an apparently quiet and non-sharing sort, showed you his soft belly about his family and his big hopes and dreams. And at the first sign of his not letting you walk all over him, which let’s be honest here .
. . you like to test people that way . .
. you went straight for his jugular and threw it all back in his face. That about sum it up?”
I nod sullenly. “Reed said I don’t know the half of it, though, said something about a Tannen Farm, but Brody’s never mentioned it. I don’t know . . . I feel like I don’t know anything.”
“Do you know that you have feelings for him?” Emily asks bluntly.
“We said casual. I’ve got the garage and racing and . . . I don’t have time. I can’t—”
Emily snaps her fingers in my face, cutting me off. “Excuses. You’ll notice that I didn’t ask if you have feelings for Brody. I asked if you know, because everyone else does. You’re the one sitting on the starting line well after the checkered flag dropped.” She grins. “That was good, yeah?”
I groan at the analogy that sounds like something Dad would say once upon a time. “It’s not NASCAR. It’s drag racing and you know it.”
“You know what you need to do?” Emily asks, leading me where she wants me. I’m so messed up that I even let her.
“Apologize?”
She laughs . . . hard. “Apologize? Oh, God, Rix, you are so clueless sometimes. I swear all the time with bros has done you no favors at all. Think . . . what do you need to do?” I blink, not following this time.
With a sigh, she tells me. “Grovel. Girl, you need to apologize, grovel, and tell him that you freaked out because you have big, scary feelings for him that make you want to spend forever in his arms, have his beautiful babies, and watch sunsets on the porch when you’re both old and gray. ”
Cringe. Massively uncomfortable cringe that makes my whole body shiver from head to toe.
“That’s maybe more than where I’m at right now? And telling him even a bit of that sounds awful. And Brody’s not really that kind of guy either. I don’t think that’s . . .”
At Emily’s harsh glare, I taper off. Not many people can shut me up with a look. She’s one of them.
“I’m gonna be honest here, so listen up and let Girly Ol’ Emily tell you something you don’t know about guys.
Their masculinity is fragile sometimes, especially a guy like Brody who’s probably used to being the biggest swinging dick in the room.
Not literally, but figuratively . . . oh, except maybe literally?
” Her brow quirks, her hands moving through the air, measuring big to small, asking about his dick, apparently.
I do not answer. “Later for that convo, then . . . where was I?”
“Something I don’t know about guys?” I prompt dryly. Because I’m so ignorant about men.
“Right. A guy like Brody is tough, with this hard exterior and stoic facade. And you, you’re like a sledgehammer, coming in and banging away .
. . see what I did there?” She looks pleased with herself but shakes her head, hopefully focusing.
“He let himself be vulnerable with you, which is probably a big fucking deal to him, and you punished him for it because of issues you have, ones that have nothing to do with him.” She holds up one finger.
“You need to let him know it’s okay to share with you and that you want to share with him.
” A second finger comes up. “You need to tell him that you have feelings that are scaring the shit out of you and that you overreacted because you’re a lucky bitch who doesn’t know what she’s got when it’s right in front of her. ”
“Harsh much?” She’s right, I know she is, but each of her words is another painful reminder of how badly I fucked this up.
“Holding someone’s heart is a big responsibility, one you just showed him you can’t be trusted with. So yeah, apologize, but more importantly, be worthy and hope he gives you another shot.”
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
“So, how do I do that?”
“That part’s up to you, Rix. You’ll figure it out. Might I suggest a ballpeen hammer style rather than another sledgehammer approach, though? And also, I just said peen and somehow was not talking about penises . . . penis-i? I would like karmic good girl credit for that.”
“Penises,” I correct.
She nods, grabbing her wine. “Okay, so now tell me all about racing . . . finally.”
I pick up my beer and tell her about everything I’m doing, from racing my Mustang to designing entire systems for the other racers at the track. Somewhere around nitrous oxide percentage ratios, I lose her, but she still nods along, and I realize how much I wanted to share this with her all along.
And maybe how I should share it with Dad too.