Chapter 51 Regan
FIFTY-ONE
REGAN
Before leaving for Talladega, I make plans with Cindy. A little BFF time is needed as the pressure for this race starts to settle in.
My anxiety has me spiraling with a case of the what ifs. What if I win? What if Dean wins? And the one I really hate, what if Ian wins? There is no room for mistakes. Everything has to be perfect to claim that Cup Series spot.
“Reg!” Cindy’s voice jolts me out of my spiral. “You’re spacing on me.”
“Sorry. The pressure is a lot right now.”
Cindy gives me a wavering look, a glint of light from her living room lamps shining off her silver hoop nose ring.
She knows it’s more than just the race itself.
It’s everything. It’s this final race, Dean, and even with the information that Dad found from that night, there may not be any consequences for Ian at all.
“I mean, maybe I’m spacing a little,” I admit. This is why I don’t date. I need to be fully focused, and right now, I’m not. “Don’t look at me like that.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you told me what you’re actually feeling, Reg,” Cindy scolds.
I release a sigh. “I’m still working through it all. I feel things I never thought I would for Dean Dixon. It’s all so complicated.”
“Sometimes, the things worth fighting for are complicated,” she says, rubbing my back. “You like Dean—hell, you may even love him. That’s not a bad thing. Figuring everything else out may be complicated if either of you win or if Hicks does. That is something you can figure out together.”
I shift my gaze back to Cindy. She is going through every possibility that I have thought of, of what happens next.
The thought of figuring it out with Dean at my side scares me just as much as it excites me.
But do I really love him? Is this love? I thought I loved my ex, and look how that turned out.
I don’t think I can handle that kind of hurt again.
If I get into Cup, will people think he didn’t race me fairly or let me have it because of our relationship?
All the what ifs keep running rampant in my mind and leave me even more at a loss.
Maybe just ignoring the haters and trolls is the way to go.
I’ve been doing it for years with my dad being who he is, so then why is this so hard to let go of?
My phone lights up on Cindy’s coffee table.
Leslie
Check Insta
Me
Why?
Leslie
Just do it
I open the app, and the first thing that pops up is from the Brady Racing page. It’s the security video of Ian cornering me behind Leslie’s RV, Dean coming in, the punch, Ian walking away in one direction, and then Dean leading me in the other.
I’ve seen this video multiple times, but seeing it live for everyone to see is something else entirely.
Cindy is watching over my shoulder as the video plays again.
When Dean punches Ian, Cindy winces. “Damn, what a punch,” she says with a little bit of pride in her voice. “How did they get the footage?”
“I’m not sure, my dad has connections in a lot of places. Which seems to include the security department.”
“So, this proves that what Ian posted isn’t true, and that Dean technically didn’t do anything wrong.”
I nod, too stunned to say anything. Dad never told me what his plan was once he showed me this video. I never thought he’d post it.
At the track, everyone is buzzing about the video posted to the Brady Racing Instagram page. It’s been a barrage of questions from everyone, if I knew about it and what my comments are. I’ve been giving the same responses of yes, I knew about the video and no, I didn’t know it would be posted.
The worst part is I’ve been called to do a pre-race press conference by Ramon Vera himself, the president of the series. Given the circumstances, I’m not surprised, I just hate doing these. And with little to no time to prepare for it makes it worse.
In the middle of the infield is the press building where all the important conferences and interviews happen. I make my way inside and find the room where this is all being held.
To my surprise, Dean is sitting on a bench outside the room. I’m shocked that he’s here. I just assumed we would be having separate interviews.
He’s leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, looking at the floor. He must sense my presence because he looks up and smiles. My nerves instantly melt away as soon as his forest green eyes meet mine. We haven’t really talked since our date last week, both of us working toward this last race.
“Hey,” he says, standing. Fuck, he’s tall. How did I forget how damn tall he is? “I didn’t know this conference was for both of us.”
“I didn’t, either,” I reply with a shrug.
“How did your dad find that video?” he asks.
“He has connections with the security department, it seems, but I didn’t know he planned to post it.”
Silence falls between us. We still haven’t put any labels on what we even are. I know how he feels about me, and I think I feel the same. Do we label it here and now for an audience? This doesn’t seem like the right time to say something like that.
“What do we tell them about us? Someone is bound to ask,” he asks, as if reading my mind.
I hesitate, thinking. I can’t tell a whole room full of press that I have feelings for Dean. I can barely admit it to myself, let alone to him and a room full of strangers. “We tell them that we are friends and competitors.”
His face falls at that, but recovers fairly quickly. I can tell he’s trying to hide his disappointment. I’m just not ready.
“Okay.” He clears his throat. “Friends it is.”
The doors to the conference room open, and a PR staff member in a SCORS polo, a lanyard, and with a phone in her hand gestures for us to follow her.
Her brown braid sways along her back as we follow her inside.
The room is filled with reporters and photographers.
There is a buzz that fills the space as all the voices of the people around us start to quiet down as we are led to a table in the front of the room.
It is draped with a black tablecloth, with two folding chairs and two microphones.
There is a podium to the left of the table where Ramon Vera stands behind it.
He nods at each of us, but lingers a bit at me.
I have a history of not saying the correct thing at interviews like this, so I take the look for the warning it is.
Ramon Vera isn’t one to come out to the tracks; he usually sticks to the fancy events like the gala a few months ago.
The girl with the lanyard and braid instructs us to sit. The cameras are constantly flashing and the chatter among the reporters starts to quiet down as Ramon starts to speak. He is commanding this room, not just with his booming voice, but his suit says that he is in charge, and he knows it.
“In light of the video that Brady Racing released a few days ago, and meeting with other SCORS executives, Ian Hicks will be permitted to race this weekend and compete for the championship. However, he will not be eligible for the Cup Series spot should he win this weekend.”
Murmurs fill the room as everyone takes in what has just been said. After what he did, he’s still allowed to win the championship? What a bunch of bullshit! I can’t fucking believe it.
White hot rage floods my veins, taking a breath to keep my cool for the cameras, so I can’t be seen as the emotional woman; instead, my leg bounces under the table.
Thank god for this tablecloth. Dean’s hand rests on top of my knee, heat from his palm seeps through my jeans and into my skin, almost instantly dulling the rage that still sits inside me. He gives a reassuring squeeze.
He’s here for me, grounding me, keeping me from saying something I’ll regret later. My leg finally comes to a halt, and Dean hasn’t taken his hand away.
After a moment, reporters start shouting questions left and right, and it’s hard to hear what’s being said.
“One at a time, please,” Ramon says sternly. “We will answer as many questions as possible.” The noise dials down as Ramon calls on a reporter in the front row. She’s wearing a black pencil skirt, a pink blouse, and a black blazer with some mile high pink pumps to match.
“Amanda from New World Racing. Regan, Dean, how are you feeling about this news?” She has her notepad and pen in hand ready to record our answers. All eyes are back on us, waiting for our responses. Dean again gives my knee a squeeze and starts to respond.
“Well, we are hearing this for the first time just like y’all are,” he says, turning to Ramon with a slight glare of annoyance.
“It isn’t the decision I would make.” Amanda nods, taking down Dean’s answer with fervor, then turns to me, waiting for my response.
I don’t know what to say. I know what I want to say, but I need to say it more delicately than what I’m thinking.
I don’t think that is fucking stupid and he should be banned from the series is the way to go.
“Umm—like what Dean said.” I turn to him, and he gives me a nod to keep going. “It isn’t the decision I would have made, either. I think SCORS should take matters like this more seriously than they currently are.” Dean double squeezes my thigh, signaling he agrees with me.
Ramon calls on a different reporter and they stand to ask their question. He seems much younger than most of the reporters here, fresh out of college, it seems.
“Ryan from In The Tread. Are you and Dean together as a couple at this time? There have been rumors that you have been secretly dating all season.”