Chapter 10
Cash
“Hey, buddy, how are you? Miss you.”
“Miss you, Daddy.” My chest tightens hearing Cullen’s voice, the strain of sadness weaving through it. “When do I see you?”
He’s the first one I called after coming off the track, straight in here, hoping to catch him. “Tomorrow. I can’t wait.”
“Do I get ice cream?”
“Yep. What flavor?”
He giggles, filling the holes the time apart has left inside my heart. “Bubblegum.”
“It’s good, right?” I walk to the back of the room, leaning my head against the wall with the phone cradled in my hand. It’s not that I need a five-year-old’s approval, but I want to keep the connection with him, hoping he understands why I leave so often during the season. “How’d I race today?”
“You had a race?”
Forget the media mess this morning, the questions asked about Marina and me, despite the excitement in my son’s voice, I’m gutted by those four words alone.
She’s broken our agreement before, but hearing that my kid didn’t even know I was racing .
. . I should expect this from her, but that doesn’t ease the blow that he didn’t know.
“Yeah.” I struggle to sound positive, but I do it for him. “Came in sixth.”
“You got points.”
“I did. Hey, so have your stuff ready tomorrow when I pick you up. I’ll be there at two o’clock, okay?”
“Okay.”
Normally, I’d touch base with Terpidy, but I’m too angry to stay calm, and anything above a whisper pisses her off, so I let it lie for now. “I love you, Cully.”
“Love you, Daddy.”
I hang up and stay in the peace of the room for a moment longer. “I did it.” I fucking did it, putting points on the board for my team. After the disappointment I could see in their eyes, if I’m being generous, I hope this can redeem me in light of the situation with their sister.
Marina has been on my mind too much—the softness of her skin, the curve of her hips, the pink of her lips that I couldn’t resist. Fuck, I can’t do this.
Off-limits.
I’ve been warned . . .
Since I’m still in my racing suit, I push off the wall and start stripping it off, anxious to get out of here. But if I’m going to face cameras on the way out, I need to take a shower.
“You did it.” I recognize the voice as two hands clap down on my shoulders. I had gotten so close to escaping the track without another lecture.
“I made a deal.” I laugh as Noah comes to walk beside me as I exit the paddock.
“You kept it. It’s unheard of,” he says, looking up at the sky behind his sunglasses, “to do this well as a new team.”
We keep walking, but I sense there’s more he’s not saying. I stop and cross my arms over my chest. “What is it?”
He stops, shifting a bit. “You did great with the post-race press, but we need to steer clear of any questions regarding my sister. If they ask you about last night or her, tell them it’s not something you’re commenting on. It’s better to leave it vague than to give them something to feed off.”
We look around, noticing eyes that wouldn’t typically be on us as other teams tilt their ears to eavesdrop. P1 racing has the biggest bunch of gossips. Always has.
Walking again, Noah keeps his eyes ahead. “We talked with Marina earlier. She regrets dragging you into her predicament.”
“She doesn’t need to regret anything.”
“My sister has . . .” I glance at him, wondering if he’s going to throw her under the bus.
Other than my mom, there’s no one in my family I choose to speak to anymore.
I’ve had photos from my childhood sold to high bidders, stories that I thought were once great memories tainted as I read about them in the press.
I feel like the Westcotts are genuine in protecting their own, but there’s money on the line, so you never know. Money changes everyone, everybody I’ve known.
The harsh lines of his expression stagger into sympathy when he looks back at me.
“She had expectations placed on her that I never had to deal with growing up. She’s in the spotlight now, but she always was at parties and school.
It’s not of my family’s doing. The world took notice of Marina Westcott early on.
” He pauses again as if searching for the right words.
“She can hold her own, but she shouldn’t have to all the time. ”
I appreciate hearing the respect he has for her. I know they’re close, but I like that they’re friends. “Can I be honest with you?” he asks.
“I hope you’re always honest with me, Noah.”
He nods. “I worry about her. She’s pulled away the last few months, which is unlike her. Did she talk to you about anything that might be going on?”
Her ex.
The cheating.
Going out seeking revenge.
“You should probably ask your sister,” I say, walking ahead.
He stops. “Does that mean you know something?”
Turning back, I keep walking but throw my arms out. “Not getting involved in Westcott family business except as a driver. Have a good one.”
“Yeah, have a good one.”
Slipping through the rest of the paddock and avoiding any press hanging around, I weave to the back where I see the car waiting for me.
My bag is already loaded into the back when I slip inside the vehicle with Duncan, my trainer, behind the wheel.
As soon as I put my seat belt on because he’s a stickler for safety, he drives toward the exit.
“You earned that spot today,” he says with eyes on the road ahead. “You should be proud.”
“I feel . . .” Accomplished. Redeemed. Proud. “I feel good about my performance.”
“The work we’ve been doing physically and the focus you have with your mental game are paying off.” He glances at me. “How are you holding up after the grilling?”
Chuckling, I reply, “It wasn’t bad. Only a few questions about last night. I think once I stayed quiet on the subject, they realized they needed to get something from me. I can talk racing all day long.”
“Figured you were hearing about the incident enough, but I need to know where your head is at or if we need to make some adjustments.”
“It’s not an incident, so no adjustments are needed. My head is in the race. Twenty-four seven.”
“Okay. I’m trying to help you avoid what happened last time.”
My anger rises, and I scrub my hands over my face. I shoot him a look, unable to hold back anymore. “Fucking hell. Nothing happened, Duncan. The woman needed help. That’s it.”
“I laid off you this morning. Got you through your warm-up without a fucking word, Cash. You may have been over there with the owners, but I didn’t give you a hard time.”
We’re friends. Real friends. Been through hell and back together in this career. I need to remember that. He’s always had my back and helped me crawl out of my lowest point ever a few years back. Duncan is one of the reasons I’m back on the track.
“Sorry.” I take a deep breath and exhale slowly. “Last night has been made into a bigger deal than it was. If I would have known this is how it would play out, I would have fucked her.” I feel shitty the second the words leave my mouth.
Rubbing my brow, I say, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why?” His eyes dart over to me quickly before giving me the space I prefer.
“Because she doesn’t deserve to be spoken about like that.” What am I doing? Making it worse? I can tell him anything, and he won’t hold it against me, but he can also see right through me. Fuck.
“It’s okay to be into someone. We just need to make the appropriate mental adjustments.”
The car stops at the hotel, and I pop open the door.
With one foot already out, I look at him.
“I’m not dating anyone. I’m not fucking anyone.
I don’t need any mental adjustments.” I get out but duck my head back in.
“If you’re going to be on the jet, be ready in one hour.
I’ll meet you in the lobby.” I shut the door and walk into the hotel.
I don’t know what’s happening, but everyone seems to have lost their minds in Miami, including me. It must be the heat and sunshine. New York is calling.
As soon as I drop my bag on the floor at the door, I toss my wallet and phone on the coffee table and flop into a chair. Studying the hotel room, I see most of my stuff has already been shoved in my suitcase by the door, but a few odds and ends remain.
Getting up, I start gathering the rest of my belongings.
I’m ready to get back. It’s only a few days, but I’ll take the much-needed break.
Bonus: I get to see my son. I retrieve my toiletries to shove in my smaller case when my phone vibrates against the glass table.
I hurry back to see a familiar number on the screen, and it creases into my cheeks.
Fuck me.
A grin is the last thing I should be doing when I see that number. I pick it up and answer, “Hello?” With a shrug popping my shoulders, I move to the windows with an endless Miami beach view.
“Hi. This is . . .” She sounds like she’s taking a breath to brace herself. “This is Marina. Marina Westcott.”
“I know. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have answered.”
“Oh,” she starts, a lilt lifting the word. “Thank you. I didn’t know how you’d react to me calling. I was . . .” This is not the woman I met in the paddock, the woman who set the place on fire, refusing to let me get away with an obvious stunt. The fight in her has subsided.
When she pauses at a seemingly silent impasse, I ask, “How are you?”
“I’ve been better. You?” A gasp is heard. “Oh my God, you came in sixth. Congratulations! It was an awesome race.”
I find myself grinning for real this time around. “You watched?”
“It was on a TV nearby,” she deadpans. I recognize that snark.
Chuckling, I ask, ready to list a thousand places. P1 racing is a top sport in the world, so I’m not surprised it was on somewhere in her vicinity. I am surprised she stopped to watch, though. “Oh yeah, a restaurant? Sports bar? Lobby of your hotel?”
“Um, uh.” She’s quieter than a mouse. “My apartmmm.”
“I missed that. Where again?” I grip the phone to my ear just in case the connection is bad.
“My apartment, Ryan.” Ryan? There’s my girl .
. . Wait, not my girl. She is not my girl.
I look back like Duncan might have overheard me because I’m fucking paranoid.
He’s not even here. Fuck. I run a hand through my hair.
No adjustments to be made in my life to accommodate a girlfriend.
Been there. Done that. Not ever going back while I’m racing on the track.
“So what you’re saying is that you purposely watched me race today?”
A huff covers the distance, reaching my ears before she adds, “Happy now?”
“I am actually.” Though I know better, laughing after all the drama today still feels good. Looking down, I shift my feet, then move to sit on the couch. “So . . .?”
“So I called even though I was told not to—”
“Who told you not to?” Images of punching someone in the face for that bad advice come to mind.
“Everyone.”
“Ah. Sounds familiar.” I lean back on the couch, setting my feet up on the edge of the table. “I heard the same.”
Lighter laughter trickles from the other end. “I wanted to tell you that I’m sorry for involving you. I should have known better with all the paparazzi there. Those photos didn’t age well in the light of day.”
“At least they got my good side.”
“I don’t think you have a bad side.”
My brows shoot up. Thinking I misheard her again, I laugh. “You buttering me up, sweetheart?”
“Maybe.”
I turn on the speaker and set the phone down next to me. Staring out the windows again, it’s nothing but blue skies from where I’m sitting, but I’m still cautious. I have to be. “So the call had a purpose?”
“I wanted to thank you for the phone.”
“Okay.” I kind of wish I had a photo of her that wasn’t shared with the world, one just for me. I’d be looking at it right now instead of the blank screen. “Go ahead.”
A burst of laughter comes with a reply, “Thank you, Cash, for the phone.”
“You’re welcome.”
“It will be a constant reminder of how I was right, and you were wrong.” Her giggle populates like champagne bubbles through our connection.
“I bought the phone so you could see the mess we made online like I have to.”
“It’s quite the mess.” As our laughter dies down, she adds, “I’ve been banned from the track.” Her tone is softer, her words more forgiving.
The punch comes with the admission. I’m not surprised, but it’s bullshit. “Forever?”
“For now.”
I nod, though she can’t see me. Sitting up, I say, “Good thing we don’t exist in each other’s worlds.” Nothing about that feels genuine. Even I don’t believe the lies I’m spewing.
“Yeah . . . good thing.” A quick pause is cut short. “I should let you go.”
“You don’t have to.” No adjustments. Life is smooth right now. Don’t wreak havoc on your career over a woman. “I didn’t mean it how it came out.”
“How did you mean it, Cash?”
“You’re there, and I’m here, and . . . we’ve just not run into each other before.”
I can’t see her, but I’m nodding like this makes sense. It doesn’t, not to me. I’m pretty fucking sure it doesn’t to her either. I lower my voice. “Look, Marina, I’m not upset about last night. I let myself down in other ways, but I don’t regret the time with you.”
“Do you mean that?” Her breathy and quiet voice matches mine.
“I mean it. Fortunately, it didn’t fuck up my race. That’d be a different story.”
“You did better today.”
The truth should probably sting, but it doesn’t. Smiling again, I ask, “Are you taking credit?”
“Never, but ifffff I had anything to do with it, you’d tell me, right?”
I chuckle. “I’ll tell you, babe.” A knock on the door gets me back to my feet. “I need to go. I have a flight to catch.”
“Thanks again for the phone.”
“No problem.” If a conversation could be dragged out, this one fits the definition. I’m not eager to hang up either, though. I put the phone to my ear again and walk toward the door, but before I answer it, I say, “Hey.”
“Yes?”
“You have my number, Marina. You can call me anytime.”
Her emotions feed into her voice, and she lets a laugh escape. “Like a secret only we share.”
“Anytime you feel the urge.”
“Same goes for you,” she adds. “Take care, Cash.”
“You, too.”
We hang up, and it’s impossible to wipe the stupid grin from my face. I open the door and immediately walk away so Duncan can’t see me. “Almost done packing.”
“Need some help?”
“Need? No. But I’m happy to let you grab my suitcase.” I chuckle, feeling lighter than I have in a while. He doesn’t need to know the real reason.
No one does.
It will be a secret only Marina and I share.
No adjustments needed.