Chapter 16 Dean
SIXTEEN
DEAN
A few weeks have passed since my almost kiss with Brady at the party.
It’s all I can think about. How she relaxed into me when I grabbed her waist and let me guide her hand to throw the cornhole bag.
What her perfume smelled like, something floral mixed with her familiar vanilla that always follows her.
I especially can’t get over how she looked at me while we were so close together. She looked at me like I was something to consume, and if we weren’t interrupted…My mind has already been through every possibility. I’ve jerked off to every single one of those fantasies since.
My cock stirs at the thought of Regan underneath me, taking all of me. Shit, I have to get a fucking grip. I cannot like Regan Brady. It’s not something even remotely possible.
Or is it? No. No. It’s not.
I can’t bring myself to talk to her at the tracks since that night or talk about what happened—what almost happened.
Once, I did get the courage to go over, but she turned away like she didn’t see me.
I took that as a sign that she didn’t want to talk, because I know she saw me.
It’s not like I can just call her to talk about it.
I don’t have my rival's number to just give her a call for a chat. Maybe I could go by her race shop again like I did a few weeks ago. Would that be too suspicious, showing up at her shop again? But it seems she doesn’t want to talk about it, so maybe I just need to let all these thoughts of Regan go.
That’s what I’ll do.
These last few races have not been kind to us, either. Which still hasn’t kept thoughts of Regan at bay. One race, we got spun around and couldn’t repair it enough to continue. A DNF—Did Not Finish—is never what you want to happen when you’re contending for a championship.
All the other races consisted of ill-handling cars and pit road penalties that put us too far behind to catch up again for a decent finish. We were lucky to finish some of those races at all.
It’s been frustrating, not just for me, but for the whole team.
I feel fully responsible for all of it. My mind isn’t fully in the game.
This is why I stick with grid girls and one night stands.
No muss, no fuss, and no feelings. I can tell the team knows there is something off with me, but I can’t tell anyone the actual reason.
These are the moments that I wish Daniel were still here. He would’ve known exactly what to do. He may have been younger, but he always knew better when it came to women.
I should just forget about what happened in that backyard. I should stick with grid girls and keep Regan Brady as my rival only. Even that doesn’t feel the same. Having a new woman with me every race always boosted my ego. Now, I feel…I don’t know how I feel.
Maybe empty is the right word. Grid girls filled that void of loneliness that always seems to follow me. Even that doesn’t scratch the itch anymore.
It’s become bad enough that the owner, Tom, has called a meeting.
I got the email last night and have been slightly panicking ever since.
I wait patiently with everyone for the meeting to begin in the large conference room.
Everyone is here, not just my crew, but people who work behind the scenes, too.
The conference room door opens and Tom enters, commanding the attention of everyone in the room.
“Good morning, everyone,” Tom begins. “I know this meeting is last minute, but I wanted to thank all of you for taking the time to come in today,” he says in his booming voice. Tom is a friendly guy. He just looks intimidating in his suit, tie, and slicked back, blonde hair.
“First thing is, it’s been announced by SCORS that there will be a charity gala coming up that all teams and crews are invited to.
So start looking for your best outfits for you and your significant others, or whomever you decide to bring as your plus one.
” The room murmurs with excitement as he glances down at me at that statement.
My cheeks heat a little bit under his gaze.
“Now, to bring it back to the main reason for this meeting.” The murmuring stops.
“We are trying to get Dean and hopefully all of you into the Cup Series for next season. As you all know, the doors of Sampson Racing are closing at the end of this season. This is a way for everyone to ensure jobs for next season. We need to regroup and focus to make this happen. I know we can do it, we just have to keep our heads in the game,” he says, scanning the room and his eyes locking on mine.
Busted.
Tom is known for knowing almost everyone’s business in the shop, down to the cleaning crew that comes in at night.
It’s scary, actually.
“Next week is Watkins Glen. This isn’t our first road course this year, and we usually do well with them.
” There are murmurs of agreement around the room.
“Remember to keep an eye out for the drivers who only show up for these races. Rehearse your pit stops, as pit road is backwards at this track.” Everyone nods but says nothing, waiting for Tom to continue.
“That’s all I have. Everyone knows their job, and keep up the good work.
” He finishes and everyone, including myself, scurries out of the room with Tom right now, knowing what is on the line for everyone.
“Dixon, hold up a minute,” Tom says.
Fuck. Well, it was nice knowing you.
“You okay? You’ve seemed…distracted.” He knows everything with my personal life and has helped me through all of it. If I can talk to anyone, it’s him. I just can’t bring myself to tell him that it’s Brady who has me distracted. I’m not sure how he’d react to that.
I’m still coming to terms with having these non-hatred thoughts toward Regan Brady.
“I’m fine. Just been thinking about Daniel.” It’s not a total lie, but also not the full truth. “It’s just a rough patch.”
He looks at me with narrowed eyes, like he’s trying to determine if I’m lying or not.
“Alright. If you ever need to talk, I’m here, Dean. Try to refocus. We got this.” He clamps a hand down on my shoulder, and I smile at him.
“I know, Tom. Thanks.” I hope he believes it, because I sure as hell don’t.
The following day, I’m packing up my truck-bed RV for the trip up to Watkins Glen. It’s one of the farthest places we travel to. I wanted to leave earlier, but I got caught up in other things and it just didn’t happen.
I’m finally packed and ready to go, and I try to start my tuck, but it won’t turn over. I try again. All it does is click until I hear a loud clunk-like noise.
Well, that can’t be good.
I open the hood, and a bunch of black smoke pours out of it.
Fuck. Now how am I supposed to get there?
I dig out my phone and start calling everyone I can think of. Due to my later start, everyone is on the road, too far away to let me ride with them.
There is one other person that I can think of to ask. I don’t think they will agree, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I don’t have their number, so I decided to message them on Instagram and hope they see it. In a few moments, my phone pings with a response.
Regan
Here’s my number. Call me.
I blink at my phone in shock. She answered and gave me her number. I dial and she quickly picks up.
“Hey, what do you mean you need a ride to the track?” she asks, skipping all the pleasantries.
“My truck just broke down and everyone else has left. You haven’t left yet, have you?” I sound so fucking desperate—because I am, but I never thought it would be in front of Brady.
“I’m about to leave now. Where are you?”
“At the shop. I’ll text you the address.”
“Be there soon.”
The call ends and I quickly text her the address. This is a new low. Having to rely on Brady to get me to the track after I made this whole deal about not needing help, specifically her help. I grab everything I’ll need for the weekend and wait for Brady to come pick me up.
This is going to be super awkward.
Brady pulls up in her truck. I open the passenger door and climb in with my duffle bag. I take in the truck’s cabin. There’s not a lot of trash or anything, so clearly she takes care of her vehicles.
“You can put your bag in the back.” I do as I’m told, and as soon as my seatbelt is clicked in, we are headed toward the highway.
“I appreciate the ride, Brady. You’re a lifesaver," I say as we merge onto the highway.
“It’s not a big deal.” She switches lanes and takes off. A speed demon on and off the track, it seems. “Just one rule. I control the music. Got that?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I say with a salute. She just rolls her eyes at me, but a small smile quirks at the side of her mouth.
At cruising speed, she leans forward to her phone that sits in a dashboard mount and opens her music app.
She selects a playlist, hits play, and without any warning, heavy metal begins to play through the speakers.
I turn to her, and I guess the shock on my face is clear.
She does a double take of my reaction before focusing again on the road.
“What?” she exclaims.
I stifle a laugh. “I never pegged you for a metal fan is all.”
“You into pegging, Dixon?” That gets my attention, but she just laughs harder. “I’m full of surprises. You don’t like Slipknot?” she asks sarcastically.
“Like?” I pause for dramatic effect. “Love them.”
Who would have guessed that Regan and I like the same music? Now it’s her turn to be surprised.
“I’m full of surprises, Brady,” I mock back to her.
Usually, people think I’m into country music because of where I live and what I do. People can like what they want, but country music is just not my thing.
“How’d you get into metal?” I ask, curious.
She takes a beat before answering.
She takes a beat before answering.
“When my mom died…” She trails off. I notice her taking an extra breath to steady herself.
“We don’t have to talk about it, Regan, if you don’t want to,” I say. She glances over to me at the use of her first name. The last time I did that, we were in Chase’s backyard about ready to taste each other. Using her first name isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
I know her mom passed away from cancer when she was young.
It happened while Karsen was still racing, and he took some time off that season to deal with everything.
I’m sure it was as hard for her as it was for him at the time.
I know from personal experience that grief can hit you hard out of nowhere at times.
“No, it’s fine. It still hurts sometimes.” She sniffles a bit. I have the urge to reach out to her, but I refrain and keep my hands in my lap.
“I understand. I feel the same way about Daniel. Things are never the same, but you learn to deal with them.”
She snaps her head at me and then turns back to the road. “Daniel? The little boy from the hospital?” She seems frantic and concerned for the little boy.
“No, not the boy from the hospital.” Does she not know? I just assume everyone knows what happened to Daniel.
It was big news in the racing world. It implemented safety checks on all equipment before using it before every race.
If nothing else, something good came out of his death in the end.
“My brother, Daniel, passed away in a racing accident two years ago. He hit the wall at a weird angle and his HANS device failed. He was dead at the scene before any of the rescue team could get to him.”
A small gasp escapes her pink lips, like she just remembered all the headlines about it.
“That was your brother? I never put the two together. I’m sorry…I can’t imagine how hard that’s been,” she says apologetically.
I nod. “It is.” There’s nothing left to say about it.
It was hard then, and it’s still hard two years later.
I still feel guilty that I wasn’t there.
That I was states away racing and there was nothing I could do.
A big brother’s job is to protect their younger siblings, and I couldn’t even do that.
Regan breaks the silence that has filled the cab of the truck. “I used music to help deal with my emotions, and metal just gets me. I know that doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it makes perfect sense. I used it at first to be different. Then I used it a lot to cope with losing Daniel.”
We both sit in the knowledge that we have more in common than I think either of us thought. Where I thought she was just a spoiled nepo baby, but there are more layers to Regan than I thought.
So much more.