Chapter 31
Mack ran across the parking lot, weaving between the motor homes and campers that dotted the wide expanse of grass.
She had no plan, only knew that she couldn’t stay in that bullshit motor home for one more second.
She didn’t think about leaving Shaw, didn’t think about where she would go, didn’t realize she was heading back toward the track.
The spring air did nothing to cool her scorching skin.
Her sports bra was soaked with sweat and she wished she could take off her fire suit but she had nothing on underneath but underwear, and even in her panic she knew she shouldn’t run around half naked near campers grilling up hamburgers and hot dogs for dinner.
The PA system blared as another driver started his qualification run, and the signal flags that lined the back of the grandstands flapped in a light breeze.
It was the perfect weather for racing: warm but mild, not too windy, crystalline blue skies.
It should have been the perfect day for her to qualify.
Instead, she’d demolished her last shot at a lifelong dream and her dad had come in with a secondary hit and eliminated her home and job. Kelley finished her off.
When she reached the crushed cinder path that led into the track, she stopped fighting her gag reflex and vomited on the road.
A fog of terror and pain enveloped her mind and she couldn’t think of where to go or how to get there.
Her hand throbbed and she used it to press down on her thighs, wanting the clarity of the pain.
She’d left her phone in the RV and had no way to call a rideshare, and even if she could do that, where would she go?
She was hunched over, hands on knees, debating the merits of walking the five miles downtown to get her stuff from Laurie’s, when a golf cart stopped next to her. Probably some asshole who thought she was drunk. She waved them off.
“Mack?”
She must be in worse shape than she thought, because it made no sense that Leo Raisman—freshly showered and looking like a snack in vintage Ray-Bans, a black JJR polo and black jeans—would be on this dusty path after he’d qualified in the top five for the race.
She’d crashed out, lost her dignity, her home, her job, and maybe her daughter, and now she was vomiting outside Indianapolis Motor Speedway while Leo Raisman, top qualifier and guy she liked way too much, watched. Today’s blows seemed to have no end.
For once, she wanted someone else to figure out how to fix things, and Leo Raisman was the type of person who could probably fix anything.
But she’d treated him horribly and damaged his standing with Janet.
She forced herself to stand, not wanting to bring any more drama to him than she already had.
Her stomach lurched and she spat on the grass. She was not okay. She worried she’d never be okay again.
For the second time that day, Mack burst into tears in front of Leo.
Leo hopped out of the golf cart and put his arm around her. “We’ll go somewhere quiet. C’mon.”
She didn’t even have the self-respect to push him away. It felt so damn good to let someone else take her weight for a moment. He was sturdy and clean and everything she was not. He guided her toward the golf cart and she sat down heavily, already mourning the loss of his touch.
“Where were you going?” Where the hell was she going? She had no idea. Her sobs increased. Leo frowned. “Did Caruthers do something?”
She didn’t want to dump her baggage on Leo. He’d been kind to her, he’d made her remember that she was a woman as well as a mom, and he deserved so much more than the chaos she’d brought. She wanted to tell him that, but instead she blurted, “I don’t have a car.”
Leo nodded as if that was the logical next thing for her to say. “Do you need a car?”
Yes.
A car.
A car would get her the hell out of here. She nodded through her tears.
They rode quietly through the long, low tunnel beneath the track, under the short chute between turns three and four, and into the infield.
Leo turned toward the rows of luxury motor coaches where many drivers lived during the final week of May and parked alongside a shiny silver RV.
Mack rubbed her snotty face with the sleeves of her coveralls as Leo popped in and out of the bus, returning with a set of keys and a bottle of water.
She swished water through her mouth as she followed him to the backside of the coach, where a dark blue 1969 Pontiac GTO Judge sat glistening in the late afternoon sun.
“Whoa,” Mack rasped, her tears momentarily paused.
Leo beamed as he ran a hand lovingly over the car’s hood. “On my thirteenth birthday, my uncle brought me a rusted pile of what used to be a car. We restored it piece by piece and I drove it for the first time on my sixteenth birthday. I know you’ll take good care of it.”
He tossed her the keys, and she gasped when her attempt to catch them sent a throbbing ache up her right arm. She ignored Leo’s curious look as she plucked them off the ground with her left hand.
Impulsively, she dove into his arms. “Thank you, Leo.”
He pulled her close and Mack let herself enjoy the feeling of his warm palms on her back. “Keep the car as long as you need. One condition,” he said, releasing her enough to look her in the eye. “Take good care of yourself, too.”
She hugged him again before sliding into the dark blue leather upholstery and turning the key.