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Deep wood cabinetry lines the walls with drawers on the bottom half. A queen-size bed sits center in the room with a padded headboard and sage-colored bedding. Battle drops my suitcase on the bed. “You can use any of the drawers and cabinets to put your things away, and there are hangers in the closet if you need to hang anything.”
I almost laugh, willing to bet the closet is also bigger than mine at home. “Thank you,” I say, my eyes traveling to an open door with a bathroom. Our stay here should be equally as nice as a room at The Plaza.
Battle lounges on the bed while I spend a few minutes putting my things away. I like that his eyes follow me around the room, watching me. After I finish unpacking, I toss my suitcase into the closet and hop up on the bed next to him. I roll to my side and look right at him.
He strokes my cheek, and says, “You’re incredibly beautiful.”
My head lowers and I blush. Due to the early morning start, I didn’t apply any makeup. My hair is pulled back in a pony, and I’m wearing yoga pants and a Thor t-shirt. Wyatt would say I look like a slob, but Battle thinks I’m beautiful. I can hardly contain how happy that makes me feel.
“What should we do for five hours?”
His eyebrow lifts, and I’m pretty sure I know what his dirty mind is thinking. “Are you hungry?”
With his deadpan expression, it’s hard to tell if his question is an innuendo or asked sincerely, wondering if I would like to put food in my stomach. “What do you have in mind?” I ask playfully.
“Breakfast,” he laughs. “Why? What do you have in mind?”
“Oh, no. Not tellin’. You want breakfast,” I tease and stand up. “So, breakfast it is. Up you go.”
He groans and rolls off the bed, landing on his feet.
I help myself to a coffee crumb muffin while Battle pours us both a cup of coffee from the box of Starbucks. I add cream and sugar to mine.
We sit at the booth-style table opposite each other to eat, listening to Austin snore from the recliner. Battle still seems tense about our future travel partner. His gaze rests on the wall behind me.
“What happened with you and Tucker?” I ask.
With a heavy sigh, he leans back, his arms spread wide and resting on top of the booth’s padding. “He used to be like a brother to me, but he’s a cutthroat SOB who let the fame go to his head. The ride was no longer about beatin’ the bull. It was about beatin’ me. He pushed too hard, and lost.”
His anger confuses me. I’d be sad if I ever lost Ginger or Marty. “It must be hard to lose such a close friend.”
“I tried,” he shrugs and swallows down his remaining coffee. “After the accident, he refused to see me, and he left the circuit. Doctors say one fall could paralyze him, but the idiot wants to risk it.” His eyebrows come together as he turns his head.
There’s more to the story he clearly doesn’t want to talk about. “Okay, I’ll drop it.”
He snaps his head back to me. “You think there’s more?”
“Oh, I know there’s more.”
His hands move through his hair once. “You’re right. The accident was my fault.”
I tilt my head confused. “How so?”
“Like brothers, we were overly competitive. He had a tough draw, and I rode him pretty hard about it, tellin’ him how he didn’t stand a chance of movin’ past me in the standins’. He set out to prove me wrong. The fall cost him his career, and I lost his friendship.”
He blames himself, and in over a year, Tucker’s never spoken to him about it. I recall Tucker calling Battle out with similar statements publicly. “He blames you?”
“I think so. He hasn’t said it, but he doesn’t have to.”
“Battle, you didn’t do…”
His hand flies up. “Don’t. I acted like a dick, and I have to live with it, but please don’t tell me I didn’t do anything wrong. I did. When my granddaddy taught me to ride competitively, he taught me to do so with dignity. Something I’d forgotten.”
It’s hard not to argue when he speaks with such passion. He shouldn’t be living with guilt when Tucker is such a hypocrite. I respect Battle’s integrity to live with his wrongs, but it doesn’t seem right for him to bear such a heavy burden.
Austin springs upright in the chair, screaming, “I’m up … Fuck … I’m up!” Battle and I laugh. “Piss off,” he says, grabbing his head. He gets up and comes to the table, taking a seat across from me.
“You all right there?” I ask.
