Page 40 of Homecoming

“Ian,” I tried to say something. I didn’t know what. But I didn’t like the fact that we had been home barely twenty minutes, and already he was asked to give money to someone.

“No, baby,” he tried to look at me, but could barely meet my eyes. “I owe him that, and so much more.”

“I don’t understand, why do you owe him?” I pushed but regretted doing it the moment I saw the pain flash in his eyes.

He looked at me right then, and at this look of pure, undulated torture and shame, all breath left me.

“Ian,” I whispered, reaching for him with my other hand, but he shook his head minutely. “I’ll tell you later. I can’t do this now. Not here.”

“Okay, honey,” I agreed without putting up a fight. From the moment I first saw him all those weeks ago, I’d known life had done something to him.

I’d known he kept secrets from me.

Secrets that had the potential to break us.

But seeing him like this, I couldn’t bring myself to ask anything anymore.

He needed time.

So I was going to give him time.

It's what you did for someone you loved.

Still, I wished I hadn’t done it.

Maybe everything would have turned out differently then.

“Ian, I can't keep watching you like this,” I said.

He was detached and completely shutting me out. It was Saturday, the qualifying rounds were over, and he had come back after the meeting with the team. It was decided how the race would go beforehand. If Ian was in the lead, which was a very real possibility, he would be forced to take a pit stop when he clearly didn’t need it, at a point in the race it was way too soon for him, just so that Max would get a chance at the win.

A chance he would take, no doubt.

It was disgusting, but his teammate had no qualms about taking something he didn’t deserve.

I was seeing a whole new side of the sport, a side I didn’t much like.

It was clear that it was costing Ian to do this, but he told me that drivers were supposed to do anything that was asked of them while driving, even giving up the shot for a championship.

It was clear what the owner was trying to do. I didn’t know much about how it all worked, but somehow, those two both had a shot at winning the whole thing.

I also got a glimpse into how much it all was costing Ian. Not just forfeiting the race, but being here.

After the tryouts on the track on Friday, he’d wrapped up what he had to and left with Tim Kendrick without saying anything.

They were in a heated discussion by the time I reached them, and when Ian got a glimpse at me, he clammed up, and offered me a weak smile before taking off.

He was gone so long, I was worried something had happened to him.

When he finally showed up, it was the middle of the night, and he just got into bed with me, murmured “Sleep, Lola,” and turned away.

So he knew I was awake. He knew I was worried. And he did nothing to let me in.

Fuck him.

In the morning, I had every intention to talk to him, but before I got the chance, he shut himself in the bathroom, then promptly got out and left.

I was half expecting not to see him until tomorrow after the race, but he came back, and in a flat tone recounted what went down.