Page 92 of When I Had You

“Patient?” She straightens her back. “You are. You’re healing, which is necessary for a full recovery.” When she yanks her gaze away, I can see frustration ripple through her body language. Her arms cross over her chest when she finally sets her sights on something in the distance. “It’s like you’re being difficult just to be difficult.” A hard glare lands on me. “What’s so hard about recovering when everything in your life is taken care of?”

An idea dawns in her eyes before I can explain. She asks, “Is this about racing?” Returning to the end of my lounger, she sits and rests her hand on my leg. “It’s only a few races, Cash.”

“Only?” The word sets me off, her hand jerking back in reaction. “A few races means I’m replaced, Marina. I get that you don’t know shit about Principle One Racing and were given ownership as a fucking present for your twenty-fifth birthday, but this is my fucking life. If some eighteen-year-old fills my seat on the track and gets on that damn podium, my career is dead.” I try to weather the storm inside me and temper my anger, but my hands shake and my side is fucking killing me, so I fail. “Get it now?”

She stands, her expression void of any emotion other than a fire burning in her eyes. I know it well, and I'm reminded of the first time we met. “I get it.”

As if she’s the judge and jury, I plead my case. “Why can’t you understand I should have never had this chance? And I’m blowing it.”

“You’re injured. That’s not the same thing.”

Bolting to my feet, I reach my boiling point. “It is to me. Fuck this.” I push the chair out of the way and walk a wide berth, leaving her standing there. I grab the door and slide it open.

“You’re willing to kill yourself for a trophy,” she says to my back, “and expect everybody to sit by and be okay with it. I’m not okay with that. I’m not okay that for thirty minutes, I sat in a room with your five-year-old son, isolating him from something horrific. That for thirty minutes, I had to hold myself together for him because I thought you were dead.” I turn back to see tears streaming down her face. “So no, I’m not okay with it.”

“That’s too bad, sweetheart.” I stand there in my contempt for the circumstances that have nothing to do with her. I boldly cross my arms over my chest as she stares at me like a stranger. I even move out of the way when she comes toward me.

Only a few inches away, she stops briefly to look me in the eyes. “You’re right, babe. That is too bad. Heartbreaking actually.” Marina enters the living room.

I watch as she grabs her purse from the counter, her phone from the coffee table, and drags the suitcase that never made it to the bedroom toward the door.

My heart starts thumping in my chest, but my pride is too wounded to say the right thing. “So that’s it? The fun’s over, so you walk away?” I move inside behind her. “You give me an ultimatum to make yourself feel better? It’s all or nothing with you?”

I see her shoulders rise and then fall slowly back into place. She looks back at me with the fire extinguished, and says, “I never gave you an ultimatum, Cash. That’s all in your head, but if it makes you feel better and helps you sleep at night, you can blame me. And then when I’m just a memory, you’ll convince yourself that you did the right thing.” She grabs the doorknob and pulls the door open. “To help that along, I choose nothing over the all I’m being given.”

I stand a good ten minutes in my righteous indignation, thinking there’s a chance she’ll walk back into my life.

She doesn’t, though.

When I finally turn around, I don’t need the disappointment I see in my mom’s eyes to know that I fucked up. I feel the absence of my soul reminding me of what I’ve done.

I should have never let Marina go.

28

Marina

I rush back to my trailer, swinging the door wide open, and scramble to find the remote.

Clicking the TV on, I search the channels until I find P1 racing. I have no idea if I’ve missed Cash qualifying or if he stayed off the track this week like he should have.

“Dumonte. Pace Set. Rogue Automotive.” I gasp when I see Westcott on the track. “Who’s in the driver’s seat? Come on. Come on.”

“Had their reserve at the paddock this week . . .” The announcer rambles blah blah . . . “Quite the accident . . . lucky to be alive. Back in the saddle. He was cleared, but we’re about to see if he’s recovered.”

I don’t know why my heart sinks other than knowing Cash shouldn’t be out there. What are my brothers thinking?

I sit on the couch with my legs tucked under me, clasping my hands together nervously. He was so worried about sitting out a race, but one mistake could cost him his career.

“This is the end,” Corbin says, taking a seat on the top step.

“We’ve been long over.” I turn my eyes back to the TV. I don’t have the will to fight with him. I think I’d need to care to garner the strength, and I just don’t. Not now that I’ve had a taste of what real love is.

“I meant the movie. One more day of shoots and then it’s finally come to an end.”

“Thank God.”

“I think it’s kind of sad.” He watches with me as Cash does his qualifying lap. I appreciate the silence. My stomach is already twisted. I’ve been so worried about Cash and dealing with my own emotions during the breakup.

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