Chapter 37
THIRTY-SEVEN
“Oh my god, I’m not broken, Rome,” I whine as he carries me into his hotel room a few hours later.
I could have left the hospital much earlier, the ER deciding that there wasn’t much wrong other than some bruising on a rib and a mild concussion, but Rome insisted on them doing every test under the sun.
That’s how I found out my iron level was low, I’m thoroughly hydrated, and that I’m definitely not pregnant. Did any of these things have to do with the accident? Absolutely not, but it seemed to ease something for Rome, so I let it be.
After he was satisfied that I was as healthy as can be, we left with some mild pain relievers, an instruction to monitor any uncharacteristic sleepiness, and a prescription for iron supplements.
“I want to take care of you,” he murmurs, setting me into the bed almost reverently, a pile of pillows propping me up.
“And you are. You have been. But I’m okay,” she assures me. A flash of panic crosses his face for a moment, his eyes closing as he takes in a deep breath.
“I was so fucking worried, Lana. I saw the tire explode, saw you go down, and all I could think was that we fought the last time we talked.” I give him a soft, understanding smile as I lift my hand to cup his cheek when he sits on the edge of the bed.
“I’m okay now,” I say. “I’m fine. You were there when they cleared me all four times.” I smile, but he doesn’t.
“But it could have been different,” he breathes, pressing his lips to my temple.
“I was so scared.” His thumb grazes over a bandage on my cheek from where the edge of my helmet hit my cheekbone.
It’s barely a scrape, but Rome insisted it needed attending to.
I turn my head and press my lips to the center of his palm before his phone chimes with another text.
He’s been ignoring the device since I was discharged, but when he checks the screen this time, he lets out a groan.
“What’s wrong?”
“Another text from my dad. It seems the mess from today is already all over the papers.” I cringe, guilt eating at me.
“That can’t be great for your stay out of the cameras and out of trouble mission,” I say with a small smile.
“I would do it again.”
“Why did you do that? It was reckless.” He shrugs as if that doesn’t matter.
“Because you were hurt.”
“But you might get suspended, Rome. The officials told you to stay off the arena.” He brushes my hair back, shaking his head.
“They weren’t going to keep me from you, Lana.”
“Yes. But—” He stops what he’s doing, both of his hands moving to my jaw to hold my gaze on his, and I see it there.
The mask is gone.
Not just lifted, not slid back, but completely and totally gone.
Before me is Roman in his truest, deepest self, looking at me with nothing but pure adoration and concern on his face.
“None of it matters, Lana. None of it. Not racing, my image, the brand, or suspensions. None of it matters if I didn’t have you to celebrate it all with.
” My pulse picks up as he continues to look at me, to hold me enraptured in his gaze.
“That’s why I ran down to get you: until I got to you, until I could make sure you were okay and safe and still my Lana, none of it mattered. ”
“Rome,” I whisper.
“I’m so deeply, terribly, terrifyingly in love with you, Lana.
I’ve never felt this way for someone, never cared more about them than I do my career.
Until you, I never had anyone who so desperately wants me to be myself, who believes in me, who sees beyond the bullshit, and who calls me out for it.
So yes, I raced onto the field even though I most definitely will get a fine for it, even though it’s probably going to be plastered in the press and twisted into me being insolent, and maybe get me suspended from this, too.
But I’m okay with it, because racing isn’t all I want to live for anymore. ”
“Rome,” I repeat, his name seemingly all I can say right now.
“I want to live for you, too. And I’m sorry for our argument yesterday, for giving you a hard time about your plans for the future.
What I should have said was that you’re amazing at racing, that I could see you having a future here, but whatever you choose, I’ll support you.
If you want to be a Maven, if you want to be the Chameleon, or if you want to be Heartbreaker, I’ll support you because I’m in love with you and I just want you to be happy.
I’m an idiot, but I’d like to remind you I’m new at this boyfriend thing and I’m a recovering asshole. ”
“You’re my recovering asshole,” I say with a soft smile.
“I am,” he murmurs. “And I will be as long as you let me. I’m gonna fuck up and fall back into old patterns. But when I do, call me out just like you did. I can take it, I promise. I want to be better—not just for me, but for you, too.”
“You can’t make me cry, Rome. I have a concussion,” I sniff.
“I don’t think that not crying is in the care instructions.”
“Well, it should be,” I say as he dabs at the tear that fell. “I love you too, you know.” I lift a hand, brushing my thumb over the spot I patched up on his eyebrow all those weeks ago. “I think I have for a while.”
“Assholes do it for you, huh?” I shake my head, smiling softly.
“No. Guys who want the world to think they’re assholes because they aren’t sure who they’re supposed to be, but are secretly softies, do it for me.
A man who confesses his fears rather than hides them does it for me.
A man who gets me Calico Critters because he wants to take care of the little girl version of me, too, does it for me.
A man who kisses my tears away and tells me that I can be a badass and be soft does it for me.
You do it for me, Rome.” He pulls me onto him then, sitting me in his lap and pressing his lips to mine until I give the barest wince when my rib aches.
“Shit, Lana, I shouldn’t—” he starts, trying to move me, but I shake my head.
“No, this is exactly what I need.” I snuggle deeper into his arms, taking a breath and letting it out, the lingering stress of the last day melting away as his hand gently moves up and down my back. “I just want this. I just need you.”
He sighs, then settles into the bed with me before his phone pings again, and he groans, making me smile. “You’re very popular,” I say.
“I wish they’d all leave me alone,” he grumbles, reaching over for his phone.
“Well, think about that next time you decide to run onto a field, risking life and limb. Everybody wants to yell at you.” His brow furrows at his phone, and I lift my head to check his confused face.
“Who is it?” I ask, nervous.
“Tyler,” he mutters, tapping at the screen.
“Tyler? What does he want?”
“He’s asking if I’m with you, probably wants to ask how you are. Everyone has been incredibly concerned for you.”
“Or he’s worried about you and wants an excuse to text you,” I say, giving him a look. He opens his mouth to argue on instinct, I think, to tell me that’s not the case or that I’m wrong, but then he hesitates.
“Did you see that Tyler tackled a guard for me?” I smile and shake my head. “He distracted him so I could get to you. The guard was rushing over to stop me.”
“I really hope someone caught that on tape. I’d love to see it. Why did he do that?”
“He tried to stop me first, to tell me to wait to get to you, told me not to fuck up my career.” My face feels soft.
“I told you he still cared about you.”
“I think that’s a stretch.”
“I don’t.” He looks over me, trying to read me, but then his gaze goes soft, as if giving in to what he already knows. There’s the tiniest hint of hope in his words.
“Maybe,” he says. “But I really don’t want to be talking about Tyler right now.
” I grin then, wide and free, before pressing my lips to his.
He hesitates for a moment, but unable to stop himself, his hand slides up into my hair, kissing me slow and sensually.
It’s not his normal kiss, all demanding and filled with a desperate need.
Instead, it’s sweeter, softer, though no less hot.
When my tongue slides over his, he groans and breaks the kiss before pressing his forehead to mine.
We’re both breathing a bit heavy, and I can tell he’s trying to rein it in, to keep his desires in check.
“You know, the doctor said that I was clear for activity,” I say, biting my lip.
“Lana, you are not getting in a truck for a good long while.” I blink at him, laughing before I shake my head.
“Okay, well, we can argue about that later, but I meant a… different kind of activity.”
“A different kind…” he starts, confused, before he grins at me. “Oh.” His face goes back to confused. “When the hell did you ask that?”
“When you went to talk to Phil in the hallway,” I say. He was gone barely five minutes, but I used it wisely. During that time, the doctor came in to check my vitals to approve my discharge, and even though it should have been the last thing on my mind, I asked about any other… restrictions.
“So you weren’t that mad at me, huh?”
“No, but even if I was, you ran into a literal car crash to check on me, throwing your safety, common sense, and career to the wayside. I figured if I were up for it, I’d definitely want to show you how grateful I am for that.”
“You would, huh?” he asks. I nod, then press mine to his before trailing my lips down his neck. Gently, he lifts my head and shakes his. “No, Lana.”
“Rome, really, I feel fine, I—” He shifts us, gently, until I’m on my back and he’s hovering over me, a smirk on his lips.
“I’m going to do all the work,” he says, sending a wave of heat through me.
His lips move to my neck, his hands going to the bottom of the T-shirt I’m wearing, and slowly trailing up.
“You just lie there and enjoy. Though fair warning, I’m going to keep it light and sweet.
Nothing too crazy.” I glower at him, and his smile goes wide.
Any remaining hesitation he had is gone, and it frees my heart.
“As soon as you’re cleared, I’ll spank you hard and fuck you against a wall, okay, heartbreaker?
” My center tightens at his promise, lips parting to let out a panted breath before I nod. “Okay, good, now—”
His hand is moving to my center, about to cup me over my shorts, when there’s a knock at the door.
“Ignore it,” I whisper, hips arching until his palm meets my core. A low sound leaves my lips, and his eyes close, reveling in it. “Please, just—”
The knocking happens again, this time followed by the unmistakable sound of the door opening. My heart pounds as Rome stands, moving toward the door right as I hear a familiar voice. “I’m coming in!”
“Jesus Christ,” Rome says, shoulders drooping with a hint of relief as he runs a hand through his hair. He sits on the edge of the bed, and I toss him a pillow for his still deflating hard-on with a smirk. He rolls his eyes, but takes it, putting it over himself.
“Are you two dressed?” Demi asks, barging in without even waiting for our response.
“How did you get in?” I ask, though I know the answer.
“Made myself a universal key. Oh, good, you both have all your clothes on.”
“What if we didn’t?” Rome asks, his lips tipping up in challenge. The two of them have been bickering like siblings ever since we brought Rome on, and it’s kind of sweet to see.
“Then I’d be scared for life, having to see your ass.”
“It’s a great ass, trust me. Demi. Just ask Lana.”
“Okay, okay,” I start, breaking it up before it gets any worse. “It’s obvious that we weren’t doing anything—I just got into an accident.” Demi shrugs as if she rightfully doesn’t believe me.
“Your vagina wasn’t hurt.” My eyes go comically wide.
“Oh, my god. Demi, please. Are you here for anything important, or are you just here to make me miserable?” She grins widely, but when I glare at her, she sighs in annoyance.
“I just got the reports from the accident. Your tire was brand new, but on the inside, there was a slice that was pretty much invisible: bursting like that was only a matter of time. Both back tires were cut, so we can see the slice on the intact tire.” My brow furrows.
“But yours were the only ones tampered with.”
“Why would they mess with mine?” I ask, confused and a bit offended. “What do I have to do with all of this?”
“I don’t know for sure, of course, but my gut says it was less about you and more about Rome.
Interfering with the race and leaving your truck against the rules of the officials will result in an immediate suspension, and if something happened to you, there was a good chance loose cannon Rome would bolt.
You guys have been in the limelight, and it’s obvious he cares about you.
The chances of him throwing common sense aside when he saw you get hurt weren’t zero. ”
“And I fell right into their plan,” Rome murmurs, looking frustrated with himself, even if Phil has already assured him he won’t be suspended due to extenuating circumstances.
“When would they have had the chance? Everything is being so heavily monitored right now.” Demi looks from me to Rome, and I know then she has not just a theory, but something backed by proof.
“Remember when we added those cameras to the trailers?” I nod, and Rome’s eyes widen, which is when I remember I didn’t actually tell him about those.
“I thought all info was transmitting to my computer and I had it set up for motion detection. But when I went to look at your trailer, something must have happened to the feed, and it wasn’t sending to me.
” That happens occasionally, of course, because nothing is foolproof.
With all the moving parts, I know there was no way we could have known ahead of time.
Demi is currently monitoring dozens of feeds at once, plus constantly trying to access new ones.
Despite that, there’s deep guilt in Demi’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry, Lana. I should have been double-checking. I just thought that—”
“Demi, it’s all good. I’m fine.” I pinch Rome’s leg before he can say a word. “Was there anything on the physical drive?” She smiles then, the guilt evaporating.
“Yes,” she says with an excited nod. “I was able to access it while you were waiting to be released from the hospital, and I’ve been combing through.
It seems yesterday morning, someone opened the trailer and slit your two rear tires just deep enough not to impact your tire pressure, but deep enough that on impact, it would be an issue. ”
“Okay, and did you happen to catch who?” Demi nods, then grins wide.
“I got a lot, actually. You’ll never believe—”
But before she can spill, there’s another knock on the door.