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I used to wait around in the pits, hoping to see a glimpse of her, or go bother her at the office, pretending we had important shit to discuss.
But this past week, I stayed home unless I was running test laps, meeting up with Jim, or making appearances Neveah booked me for.
Let me just say it’s fucking miserable.
I’ve dealt with those I love leaving me alone to fight through life, the grief of losing my grandmother and Coach D so close together.
Whoa, did I just say people I love? WTF, do I love her?
No, it’s not possible. Love isn’t something I feel easily, hell if ever. But somehow with Neveah, everything just feelsdifferent.Her absence, the loneliness, it allhitsso differently with her.
The hole is bigger, the lonely nights lonelier, the frustration and disappointment with life stronger. Tothe pointwhere her being on my mind infuriates me. Why did she have to insert herself into my life and barrel through it like a damn train wreck? Why did I agree to the sex in the first place?
Because that first time you fucked her was the best sex of your life. Just fucking admit it already.
It’s fucking maddening. And the worst part? Diesel isn’t helping like she usually does.Alwaysthere waiting in the garage, ready whenever I need to mess around under the hood or take her for a spin. Now none of it does anything for me.
The enormous gaping hole is still there.Alongwith everythingelseNeveah made disappear. My grief, my stress… she eased it all.
But it can’t happen with her. We can’t go any further than we already have.
I’m not risking another heartbreak. It’ll fucking kill me. This ache is bad enough; I can only imagine what it would feel like if she broke me.
I’ll tell her it was a mistake, something I never should’ve agreed to. And I’ll hold up my promise to stay out of the headlines and keep my sponsors happy, my career successful.
It’s all I have left going for me.
Yes, that’s what I’ll do.
As soon as I get back, I’ll text Nev and ask her to meet. It’s only right to tell her in person. I’ll at least give her that, considering we need to keep our professional relationship intact.
The thought leaves with a lead weight in my stomach, and the hunger I felt earlier turns to nausea. I just gotta do it andbe donewith it.
I drive over an hour to visit the cemetery where my two favorite peopleare buried. A place I haven’t been to for over a year because I’ve been unable to face it. But this time, the guilt wins, and I go.
I spend the afternoon fixing up the areas around their tombstones, planting some flowers I picked up on my way.
It hurts yet feels good at the sametime, and at least it takes my mind off Neveah for a while.
A little while later, I steer Diesel back into the garage, dread making my head heavy.
This whole situation fucking sucks.
Once inside, I pour myself a glass of water, hoping it curbs my stomachache but no such luck. I pick up my phone and text her before I can talk myself out of it.
* * *
Armed with coffee and donuts,I wait outside Neveah’s door, hoping the gesture makes this conversation easier. Doubt it, but I’ll tryanyway.
What I’m most afraid is she might think I’m here for different reasons. To repair it, fuck her brains out. No, none of that’s happening.
Yeah, I’ll apologize like I should, but I’m not here to fix what we had. It’s over, done. Maybe she feels the same, and I have nothing to worry about. But a nagging feeling in the back of my head tells me otherwise.
The loud buzz of the door jolts me out of my thoughts, and I open it, then make my way up to hersecond-floorapartment. She’s already standing there waiting for me, and the sight of her leaves me feeling like I have no air.
Neveah is beautiful, makeup or not, nice clothes or simple pajamas, whatever. It doesn’t matter.
Her arms are crossedas she leans in the doorway. No trace of a smile, no hint of a smirk. Fuck, she’s angrier than I thought.
