Chapter 25 #2
The anger is gone from him in a moment, replaced by sorrow.
This expressiveness is discombobulating compared to the statuesque Jacob I’ve come to know.
“It was a monumental fuck up. I should have come clean. I was under so much pressure. I was worried about sponsorships, my place at Circuit Smack. Ampere was a smaller version of my heavyweight bot at the time and having a malfunction that big would be catastrophic.” His cheeks are flooded with color.
I want to reach out and touch the heat of them.
“The risk of losing everything overwhelmed me. Then it had gone on so long, and I couldn’t—I didn’t,” he scrubs his face with his hands and pauses for a moment.
He takes a deep breath, early spring air filling his lungs.
I watch it settle into him as he squares his shoulders.
“There’s no excuse. I fucked up, and I’m sorry. ”
“Jacob, you could have hurt someone.” My voice is little more than a whisper. The fear is still deeply ingrained.
He winces. “I know. I paid for all those new cameras for the Twin Cities events, including the driver cameras. I pushed for the new rule set that came a couple of years later. I quadruple-test my bots now and added another failsafe.” Those are all the things I would have done if I had the money and time.
Things I wanted done and requested during the appeals.
I quadruple-tested Zeta’s failsafe after our incident.
I should have done it before. We aren’t as different as I thought.
“I did everything to stop it from happening again and to atone, except for the most important part—admit the truth and apologize to you. Hurting you was a worse outcome than anything I would have lost from coming clean,” he says.
There is a spot in my mind where Jacob lives.
It’s a bigger spot than I care to admit or examine.
Each word he says scrapes away the rust inside it and around our memories.
The metal is dull and pockmarked, but maybe there is something salvageable.
Regardless, it can’t soften the sharpness of the hurt.
The jagged ache still presses against all the soft parts of me.
“And you thought I would forget because you bought me dinner and 3D-printed me some rings? You almost ruined my career. You cost me so much.” My voice cracks and tears well in my eyes.
“Jacob, you were my friend. You almost took this sport from me.” I look at the night sky, trying to stop the tears from falling.
The last thing I need is Jacob to see me with my mascara running.
Still, a drop spills. It’s scalding hot as it slides down my cheek, the shame scorching my skin.
I wipe it away quickly with the sleeve of my sweatshirt.
His voice is strained. “At first, I thought with time and distance, maybe we could both forget. Move on. I understood why you avoided me.” His genius hands twitch, and he tucks them under the table in his lap, like having them near me would be too much.
“When we got here, I thought, ‘It’s been enough time. She can’t still be mad.
No one still cares.’ I thought we could both pretend it never happened.
” The way he’s looking at me makes me want to run away and run into his arms all at once.
“That was foolish and cowardly. You don’t have to forgive me.
But I want to earn your trust, if you’ll let me. ”
I sniffle, embarrassingly. He couldn’t look more pained if I had punched him in the stomach. “Why? You’ve made it very clear for years that you want nothing to do with me until a couple of weeks ago.”
“At first, I was pushing you away, and then I was giving you space. Both things, I now realize, were really, really foolish.” Those big gray eyes roam over me for reasons unknown.
“Mari, you’re one of the best people in this sport, and I’m the reason you don’t have your own heavyweight bot.
I want to fight you in that Circuit Smack arena one day with a bot you can be proud of.
You deserve that opportunity and more.” His bittersweet expression is made more dramatic in the low light.
“We were friends. I know you can do it on your own, but you don’t have to.
I’m on your side. I have been since we were kids.
I never wanted to be your rival. I really, really fucked up and was too cowardly to fix it.
” He looks sincere, his own watery eyes full of admiration.
It stuns me like a zap from a poorly wired battery. “Let me help you.”
“I don’t want your pity.”
“Will you at least trust me when I say it’s anything but pity?
” He’s tired and disheveled. That perfect paint peeling under my scrutiny.
For once, he doesn’t seem like a towering figure to me.
He finally seems human. Flawed and confused like me.
There is shiny metal underneath the rot and decay of who we used to be.
I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t give this man an inch when he’s taken miles and miles from me.
But that pull—that maddening, unbearable pull towards him—tugs me towards him.
His confession lies over me like a blanket.
There are some holes in it that need to be patched, if there’s enough material left to even do so, but it’s warmer than it was.
I’m tired of being angry with him. It’s so much more energy than I have to spare.
“Okay.”
“Okay?” he asks tentatively.
“I trust it’s not pity. I don’t know if I can forgive you for lying, but …
” I’m tired. You’re in my head, and I need you out.
You’ve done more for me in a week and a half than anyone has done in years.
I’m afraid you’re wrong. I can’t do this on my own.
I’ve missed you since I was nineteen. “… I trust you. It’s not pity. ”
“That’s enough for me, Mari.” He sags with relief. “I’m more than happy with you knowing that.”
I think of Ava’s words and my own. It’s been so long, and I’m so tired of hurting.
“And I forgive you for being a general dickhead for almost a decade. We’re too old to hold grudges like that.
” A puff of laughter leaves me, floating into the night.
His jaw hangs with surprise before a tentative joy makes its way to the surface.
I take a deep breath, trying to sort my thoughts.
“I want to start over.” A week ago, I wanted to throttle him, but I need to focus on what’s important.
I’m tired of being angry in the arena, the place that gives me the freedom and power I want.
It’s been tainted enough, and I’m taking it back.
“Really?” The quiet awe in his voice makes me shiver. “Really?” he repeats like he doesn’t believe me.
I finally unwrap my arms and hold out my hand to him, “Hi. I’m Mari.” My purple ring splints are a deep, rich violet in the dark of the night.
He holds out a shaking hand. “Hi, I’m the coward known as Jacob.” When our hands touch, it’s an electric spark under my skin, warm and shocking. We both stare at our hands for a second before letting go in unison.
“Well, this was—well, it wasn’t fun,” I laugh tiredly, biding time to find the right word.
“Enlightening, I suppose. And exhausting.” I look at my watch; if I don’t hustle back to my room, I’ll be late for the team-building exercise we scheduled tonight.
“I have to get going.” I break loose from the picnic table’s grasp.
Threads of anger and sadness break and hang loose from me. Not quite gone but not as tightly worn.
He nods but doesn’t move. “I’m going to stay here for a bit. But Mari? Thank you,” he says shyly. “Thank you for hearing me out. I promise I’ll do anything not to hurt you again.”
I swallow the fear that what he said was a lie.
We were friends, and maybe we’re not as different as I thought we had become.
There’s still too much confusion wrapped around my feelings to figure out in my exhaustion.
I can’t let go of the unease still woven through me.
Jacob could be a powerful ally, or he could be my downfall once again.