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I stare at my left hand, watching the diamond sparkle in the dim light of the room. “No, you never told me.”
He smiles, casting a faraway look on his face. “She told me she’d never met anyone like me before.” His eyes meet mine and I can see the sadness there. “She was like an angel, Monterey. She was my very own angel.”
I want that sort of happiness more than anything too. But, I know the only thing that will make me happy right now is having Dylan by my side. I don’t let myself think about anything too hard as I smile back at my father. “Thank you.”
“Now, we have a race to win.”
We go over a few strategies and last minute race day accommodations until it’s late and I decide to head home.
“You can always stay here,” my father says. “You did suck down that drink.”
I smile. “Ok, sure.” I head upstairs and am ready for this night to be over with.
I need Dylan to know how I feel about him, even if it pushes him further away. I want him to know how much I care about him.
I think about the book, the man who raised Dylan and everything it all means. Dylan’s right, that movie shouldn’t be made.
No one should give the man who ruined his life a voice. Even though it made Dylan into the man he is today, it’s still too much. I can’t believe how entrapped I was with the book. In the beginning, when I first started reading it, I thought it was action-packed and fun. Now, I can truly understand the mind of his father.
He’s sick.
But, it’s not Dylan’s fault.
My phone rings on the nightstand and I grab it, not recognizing the number flashing across the screen.
“Hello,” I say into the phone.
“Is this Monterey Grander?”
The voice sounds familiar and my mind works overtime trying to place the voice to a name. “Yes.”
“It’s Ricky Moore.”
“I have nothing to say to you.” I’m about to hang up, but he tells me to wait, and I pause.
“Meet me tomorrow, before the race. It’s definitely worth it.”
Chapter 39
Danger
Race day. Normally on race days, I’m as calm as can be, but not today. Today there’s a different type of energy floating through the air. It’s thick, suffocating me just a bit. My head needs to be in the game, and I try to eradicate every thought I’m having that isn’t related to racing.
Especially Monterey.
She deserves better. And I’m not that guy.
“You ready for today?” Mike asks me as I step into the garage.
“I’m fine.” I sound like a woman. Saying the word fine but really meaning you have a million things running through your head that are entirely not fine.
“Listen, you haven’t had the easiest past few weeks. If we need to sub in a driver, we can do that.”
I shake my head, looking into Mike’s worried eyes. “No, I’m fine.”
“Okay, buddy.” He pats me on the shoulder as he walks by.
“I just need some time alone.”
He nods and leaves the garage, leaving me alone with my Indy race car. I run my hands over the glossy red paint, feeling the energy the car gives off. Sure, you may think I’m crazy, but I believe cars represent the energy of life.
They each have something special to give as they burn through their fuel. Just working as hard as they can to get through the next curve life throws their way. Or in their case, the track. I study the frame of the car, trying my best to get my head into the right mindset for today’s race. I haven’t seen Monterey yet today, but I know she’s here. I can almost feel her in my bones.
There’s a slight breeze that glides through the air from the open garage. It’s noisy and I can hear all the fans getting ready to watch the race. The speedway is getting packed, and I close my eyes, trying to remember why I’m doing this.
I want a new life. I want something different for me. I don’t want to be known as a freak. Dylan Wheeler, son of a serial killer.
That’s not who I am. And it’s not what I want for my life moving forward. I breathe in deep, smelling the grease and fuel mixed in with all the wonders race day can have. The engines out on the track, getting ready for the race, sound off, and I remember why I love this as much as I do.
I really do love it.
I take another deep breath, letting my mind clear of all the craziness over the past few days. Who cares if people know where I come from?
I should be proud of the fact I survived.
I trace the car over, letting my mind get ready for this race. Monterey pops into my head, and I can’t let go of the image of her the other day. When she wanted more. More. I don’t know if I’m capable of giving her more.
