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I smacked the little ad pamphlets facedown on the countertop and pushed them way over to the edge of my sight, so Ialmostcouldn’t see them. I didn’t want any kind of visual reminder of the breathtakingly handsome guy, with his black-brown hair and piercing dark-brown eyes, who’d stomped all over my heart then raced off into the sunset.
I didn’t need a anyreminders. As my heart galloped, I remembered everything about him just fine. And that was the problem.
Three
Axel
My fingers tapped on the steering wheel of my rental that was about fifteen notches down from what I usually drove. I swore the guy at the rental place had recognized my name and given me the smallest, lowest power vehicle they’d had in stock. No need for a restrictor plate on this engine. It wasn’t going over sixty-five no matter how hard I pressed the gas.
Maybe, I should look at my long drive from the airport as a blessing. I wasn’t in a huge hurry to face the music in the little town where I’d grown up. Still, while I hadn’t been there in a bit, I still called the place home. It was. Far more so than where Pendleton Motorsports was headquartered in Charlotte, North Carolina.
However, the painful truth was, I’d avoided Cherish Cove, the little town I loved, for the past six years. I’d pretended I was too busy to visit. I’d even gotten my parents and brothers to come see me in whatever place I’d been racing or vacationing. I mean, who doesn’t appreciate a tropical vacation in the dead of winter?
Of course, I felt guilty about that, too, since my mom had been battling life-threatening cancer. But hey, warmth, relaxation and sunlight were good for her. We all knew that.
Claiming to be busy wasn’t a complete lie, either. I was. Being a NASCAR driver, climbing through the ranks and wooing sponsors took plenty of time. Sure, I’d signed onto my uncle’s team and a bunch of the vetting of sponsors fell to people above me, but I was still the face of the #57 team. I still had to keep an iron grip on my spot driving that car, as well. Nepotism wasn’t the reason Darius had signed me. I was damn good, and he knew it. Still, one slip and I was out.
So I smiled, schmoozed, trained, and drove. That was all. I didn’t have time for going home.
But despite my time away, I knew I’d be welcomed to my old town. Not by everyone. Specifically one person. My biggest regret. She wouldn’t be thrilled to see me.
Worry gnawed at my insides. Pissed didn’t begin to cover how angry Bristol would be when I told her the secrets I’d been keeping. She didn’t know I’d been given the ultimatum by my uncle—a career and all my mom’s medical bills paid in exchange for giving up the girl I loved. And as a caveat, he’d made me promise no one would know about the deal. Worse, way worse, I had a marriage certificate hidden in my things that could blow up everything.
I caused Bristol a lot of pain when I’d left. Now, six years later, I felt fathomless shame over my decision, too. On the surface, a lot of people probably thought I was an asshole. I’d been a dick and hurt the most important person in my life for what appeared to be self-serving purposes. Everyone in Cherish Cove believed I’d picked driving over Bristol.
Andthat, not busyness, was what had kept me away from the small lakeshore community that had always been my home.
Did I feel like a Grade-A heel? Yes.
Did I have regrets? Yeah…hundreds of them.
Did I know I’d chosen correctly? Most days…yes. Some days, I thought I should have given up my dreams and stayed with Bristol, not taken the proffered golden ticket. But then, my family would have suffered. My mom might have even died without the treatments she needed.
And one thing I knew above all things: Uncle Darius didn’t bluff. Family and sentimentality meant nothing to him. He put on an act, making it seem as if his team, Pendleton Motorsports, was family, but he’d just as much sell my grandma up the river if he could get ahead.
I understood that now, maturity opening my eyes wide. He’d seen me as his guaranteed ride to a championship and a ton of money. Either I performed and complied to his rules or I was out. And when it came to his ultimatums, there was zero wiggle room.
As if summoned by my dark ruminations, the screen on the car’s dashboard lit up to alert me to an incoming call—from none other than the man in my current thoughts.
“Uncle Darius,” I answered.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” he growled. Frankly, I was surprised he’d taken this long to contact me about the so-called video of me. Apparently, siccing Marta on me wasn’t enough.
“I was thinking of bunking down in my motorhome. I don’t know who’s in that video, but it sure as fuck isn’t me.”
“Watch your language.”
Oh sure…Hello, Pot? It’s fucking kettle.
“It wasn’t me,” I repeated through my teeth.
“That’s what you said the last time. And the time before that.”
The last time, two women had been snapped supposedly stumbling out of my alleged hotel room. The images had been blasted all over gossip sites.
Did anyone want to verify if I was there or not? No. It could have been any nondescript hotel room in America. No one cared about that. Nope, it was just more fodder for Axel’s bad boy antics. Laughable. If anyone knew the exact amount of sex I’d had since joining the circuit, they’d be shocked and my new nickname would be The Monk. I just wasn’t interested in pit lizards. Or anyone else.
Plus, unlike Bristol, I knew I was married. And I wasn’t a cheater. I wasn’t screwing around with the multitude of women who came on to me. I could. But I didn’t.
