The garage is dark and empty, since everyone else is home, so I leave my Royce outside and walk through the locker room, grabbing a set of keys as I go. They just so happen to be Mackie’s. His car is locked away, but it doesn’t take me long to get it on the track, and when the lights shine on the cement, my heart finally slows.
The inside of a car has always provided an escape from my family who I will never be good enough for and fans who forgot about me as soon as I was gone. Everything always disappears behind the wheel, as it does now.
The passenger door suddenly opens, and I whip around as Mackie climbs in and fastens his belt. “What are you doing?” I ask.
He looks from me to the track with pursed lips. “I was coming to practice and noticed my car was gone.”
“Get out,” I mutter. I’m not in the mood tonight, and besides, it’s awkward between us.
“It’s my car.” He grins, unbothered by my cold voice and expression. “Well? Are we going or what? Or have you forgotten how to drive?” His scent wraps around me until I’m hard and throbbing, and my eyes drop to his lips, remembering how they felt. “Need me to teach you, boss?”
“I thought you were avoiding me,” I remind him, my voice strained. My desire makes me forget my anger and irritation, washing them away when I’m faced with him.
He shrugs as he leans back. “Hard to avoid you when you’re in my car. Either get moving or get out, old man.”
“Old man?” My mouth drops open as I gape at him. “I’ll fucking show you old.”
I know that’s why he did it. Mackie can read me better than anyone. It’s unnerving how well he can play me, but I don’t mind when he smiles at me as I rev the engine. I’m not alone, and I like it. Now, all I can think about is him.
I take off faster than he usually does. There is a reason I’m undefeated.
Mackie slams into his seat, but his smile is wide, and when I take the first corner, he whoops as I glide around it. Grinning, I change gears, old habits coming back. The move is as familiar as walking, and I lap the course, once, then twice, my smile turning real until I pull to a stop on the fourth lap. The engine purrs as my heart slows from the race.
Turning my head, I met Mackie’s happy gaze.
“Feel better?” he asks.
My nod is automatic. I do feel better. He doesn’t ask what is wrong, but for once, I wish he would. I want to tell him everything. I want him to understand, but I can’t, and he doesn’t.
His smile drops the more I stare, and the silence becomes thick with all the unspoken words and ignored desire.
I want Mackie, have since the moment I met him, when he was too young to be lusting after someone like me. We both wanted each other. I just hid it better than he did.
“You know, I used to watch you race,” he admits.
“I know.” He told me once when we were drunk.
He nods as he looks out at the track. “You’ve still got it. I used to dream of sitting in the passenger seat, seeing you race up close. I guess I got my wish.”
“And was it worth it?” We both know what I’m talking about, and he looks at me, his features sad and tired, and my heart aches.
“Some wishes should stay that way, just wishes. Sometimes it’s better not knowing because then at least you still have hope.” He undoes his belt and climbs from the car. “See you tomorrow, boss.” Just like that, he’s gone, locked down, enforcing the lines I drew.
Boss and employee.
I hate it.
TWENTY
“Mack!”
I stop, but I don’t turn, even when I hear the car door slam shut before his boots head my way. He doesn’t stop until I feel the heat of his body against my back, and I shiver despite my determination.
It was so stupid to get in that car with him. I should have walked away and pretended I never saw him, but he looked so lost, I couldn’t. Even if I wanted to move on, my heart wouldn’t let me.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry that I can’t be what you want.” His words are breathless and rushed, and I freeze. He usually ignores this thing between us. He knows how I feel, but he pretends not to notice, as if ignoring it will make it go away, but in fact, all it does is make me feel stupid and hurt.
The fact that he’s acknowledging it gives me enough bravery to face him. He looks nervous, his eyes darting around as he shifts from foot to foot, and I know I need to find out how he feels. Why can’t he let himself feel for me? He wants me. I know he does.
