Chapter 34
Canaan
Kensie’s beautiful face covered my screen for the umpteenth time.
My hungry gaze devoured the sadness, frustration, hurt, and resolve during her confession.
Missing her had been one of the constant aches along with my broken ribs.
Stubbornness and fear kept me from reaching out, though I longed to hear her voice from the moment I opened my eyes until I shut them again at night.
Even before her confession, I recognized my fault in the ending of our relationship.
The abandonment of my mother left scars that loving Kensie revealed.
Career-oriented like my mother, I unconsciously dismissed Kensie whenever I sensed her career was more important than I was.
Witnessing Kensie’s glow of happiness when she received her award and seeing that she wanted me by her side awakened me to my blind spot.
She didn’t need to confess publicly to make me believe in her again, though I’d never been prouder that she’d decided to tell the truth on social media.
Whether my sponsors continued to rock with me because of our fake engagement didn’t matter; I found Kensie.
I still loved her, would always love her, and discerned from her unwavering support of me that she genuinely still loved me too.
In the three days since she released the video, I’d been silent, allowing my publicist to field all the calls and answer questions about my involvement with social media influencer and author Kensie Garrett.
Ironically, I’d never seen her in that light.
She’d become my Kens. My lover. My friend. My woman. My future wife.
If I’d only read that email when it was first sent, I could have addressed it with her.
By now, we would probably have moved on from the incident and might even be together.
As much as I wanted to continue to blame the accident and my heartbreak on her, the demise of our relationship was my fault too.
I initiated the sexual interlude in the restaurant that led to the video.
I ignored her evident love to focus on what I believed was her lie, and I closed the door on our relationship at the first sign of trouble, though she’d been there for me.
Ms. Murielle deservedly needed to scold me for the mess I was making of my life.
Pushing myself out of bed, I stretched my tired limbs as much as I could.
Three sessions of rehab already seemed to have helped me.
I would be strong enough to race again if I wanted to.
And I wanted to. Suddenly, the clouds that had lingered over me for the past five weeks disappeared.
I’d just had a subconscious thought about racing.
I strolled to the floor-length mirror in my bathroom and checked out the slowly fading scars on the impact side, my left.
The surgery repaired my broken bones, and the cast had come off two days after Kensie’s unexpected visit.
I finally stared at my face. My unkempt curls, overgrown mustache, and beard gave me a gruff appearance that I actually liked—made me less pretty.
Less model-ready. I flexed in the mirror and flinched from the residual pain of my cuts and bruises.
Heartbreak had kept me down longer than my injuries.
I survived an accident that should have been fatal with no lasting consequences.
In time, my body would be fully healed. My mind and heart would take longer if I didn’t atone for my mistakes.
First things first, I commanded the shower to run before I retrieved my phone to make a call.
Later that afternoon, I pulled up to the practice track in Waller County, near my alma mater, Prairie View, which Malcolm and I had constructed on land I had purchased.
Passing up the exit to the university evoked unbridled memories of Kensie and our time in college.
Thinking back, I liked our unfriendly banter, and that she hadn’t been easily impressed like the other women on campus.
Kensie never cared about my money then or now.
I’d allowed the fear of abandonment to eclipse what I’d known deep down that Kensie didn’t and wouldn’t compromise her dignity for fame or fortune.
Wearing a Ferrari Formula One baseball cap, Malcolm leaned against the back of my blue Mustang Generation with his arms folded.
He’d driven my car here at my request. His frown turned into a wide smile when I stepped out of my car.
The usually taciturn Malcolm grabbed me in a bear hug.
“I started to think I needed to find a new driver and a new best friend.”
“You wouldn’t know what to do without me.” I pushed off him playfully, touched by my friend’s rare show of emotion. “Squeezing too tight; still recovering, Mal.”
He backed up and ducked his head. “Was worried about you. Didn’t know if you were ever going to race again.”
“Me too.” I clenched and unclenched my jaw to temper my emotions.
Malcolm pushed his hands in his jeans. “So, you want to take it easy or go for it?”
“Think it’s time to get back out there since they expect me to be in Italy in about six weeks for some crazy reason. Do you know why Ferrari believes that?”
Malcolm’s dark eyes twinkled. “No fucking clue.”
I quirked a brow.
“I mean . . .” He chuckled. “You wouldn’t have wanted me to answer any other way.”
“Facts.” I bumped his fist in solidarity. “We got our work cut out. I know I have to shake the fear first. Thinking about getting a sports psychologist or something.”
“Whatever you need to do. We got this.” Malcolm tossed me the keys.
I pocketed the keys and stumped the toe of my Nike, gathering my words. “Listen, about Kensie . . .”
He held his hand up. “I saw the post. You don’t have to explain.
I just wish you had told me; then I wouldn’t have been so hard on you and Kensie.
I couldn’t wrap my brain around your insistence that she be around for everything when, in the past, you didn’t want any woman near you while you worked. ”
“Some of that was for the facade, but most was because I fell in love and hated being apart from her. I didn’t want to tell anyone that our engagement was fake because I wanted us to be real.
” I pressed my back against the car and crossed my ankles.
“I blamed her and allowed you to blame her, and she didn’t do anything wrong except love me. ”
Malcolm nodded. “I was hard on her after the crash. After watching her confession, I called and apologized. She told me she understood my anger, and she didn’t hold my actions against me.” He glanced at me. “Kensie ain’t no punk, I’ll tell you that much. She holds her own, and she rides for you.”
“She does if she got you to apologize.” I smiled, missing her more and more.
He nudged my shoulder. “Give her a call. A good woman who has your back is hard to find. You better hold on to her.”
“I plan to ask for forgiveness. Beg and plead if I have to. Wanted to get this part of my life back on track, first, no pun intended.”
We both laughed and fist bumped again.
“What about you? You seeing anyone?”
“No one important. Too busy.” Malcolm stomped the tip of his Nike on the ground and looked past my shoulders. “Right about now, love would have to find me because I sure ain’t looking for it.”
A sleek Jaguar approached from a distance before I could retort that love found me when I wasn’t looking.
Malcolm squinted. “Is that your father?”
Pride swelled my chest. “He said he wanted to see me drive.”
“Hell must have frozen over,” Malcolm wryly said.
“Indeed.” I laughed as my father exited his car wearing a red tracksuit, his attempt at casual wear. “Dad, I think after we finish up here, we’ll take a trip to the Galleria and get you some new gear.”
My father pulled on his hoodie. “It’s Nike. Isn’t that what people wear?”
“The hoodie is Nike, and the bottom is Adidas. I don’t know quite how you ended up wearing a mismatched jogging suit.”
“Aw, Canaan, leave him alone. No one cares about that,” scoffed Malcolm.
“I do,” I insisted. “I can’t have my father out here bad.”
Mr. Jackson seemed to beam at the pride he could hear in my voice.
“We can head to the Galleria and grab dinner afterward. Got to represent my son right.” He squeezed my shoulder before pulling me into a hug.
It had to be the most awkward hug I’ve ever had, and I would welcome it again and again. “I’ll try harder.”
“Me too,” I promised.
Warmth spread across my chest as I watched my father give Malcolm a handshake and a hug. “We miss you around the office.”
“No disrespect, sir, but I don’t miss the office. I was meant to use my skills for this.” Malcolm grinned.
Mr. Jackson rubbed his hands together. “Then show me what the two of you did with those expensive degrees and my money.”
“Our money,” I corrected, tempering my old irritation with humor.
My father and I still had a way to go in establishing the kind of relationship I already had with Pops.
But today was just the start. “I’m not in racing gear, although I’ll wear my helmet because I’m giving you a taste, and I need to take it easy. ”
My father frowned. “You don’t have to do anything today. I’ll be at your next race.”
I shook my head. “Um . . . You’re here right now. I’ve been waiting a long time to show you.” I bumped fists with Malcolm. “One mind. One heart. One soul.”
“One mind. One heart. One soul,” he repeated.
I grabbed my helmet off the hood of my Mustang.
When I slipped inside the car, I closed my eyes.
An image of Kensie on the balcony in Miami flashed before my eyes.
Instead of hurt or anger, the joy of love spread through me, and a peace I’d only experienced during the flow settled over me.
I opened my eyes to clarity and pressed the ignition. Soon, I was one with the wind again.