Page 50 of Drive To Survive

He isn’t wrong.

“Nico,” I sighed.

He raised his hands in an “okay, okay” gesture. “I hear you. A deal’s a deal. Still, a man can hope, Everly.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “I love having you both here, though. You… you’ve brought hope into my life. I hadn’t realized how unhappy and lonely I was until I met you.”

An ache in the center of my chest bloomed, spreading outward. “I’ve also brought chaos to your orderly existence,” I said, feeling the need to lighten a mood that’d turned heavy in seconds.

He twisted his lips to one side. “Yeah, true. You’re a messy chick, for sure.”

He winked, then stood. As he turned and walked away, I dropped my gaze to his ass.

“I know you’re checking out my fine arse.” He added an extra wiggle for my benefit, then shot me a final grin over his shoulder.

I flicked my wrist, laughing. “Get out of here.”

I treated myself to one final stretch, then threw back the covers. After a quick shower, I went to wake Rhett. He was in a buoyant mood—unsurprising given the fabulous weekend we’d had—which meant I escaped the usual Monday morning moans and groans about going to school.

Driving Rhett to class all the way from Nico’s place took an extra forty-five minutes than from my home, but it was worth it to see how happy and settled Rhett was. When I thought back to the sullen little boy who’d started at Nico’s racing school two months ago to the one singing to himself in the back of my truck, I could hardly believe they were the same child. I’d even given up worrying about affording therapy. From my perspective, the only therapy Rhett needed was racing, and Nico.

Despite his reassurances yesterday, I still couldn’t help feeling on edge. I kept thinking the rug would be pulled from beneath my feet at any moment, and I’d find myself flat on my ass. Good things didn’t happen to women like me, especially those as good as Nico. I hadn’t mentioned anything to him, but I couldn’t shake this sense of unease, and that was the main reason I kept insisting our time at his home was temporary. I wanted nothing more than to give in to the growing feelings between us, but an invisible force held me back. Maybe the closure Paul’s disappearance robbed me of was preying on my mind.

As I walked Rhett to the school gates, Mr. Wilson approached me, his arm around his son’s shoulders. I stiffened. Keep walking. The last thing I felt in the mood for was a pointless argument about Brad and Rhett’s troubles. Surprisingly, Mr. Wilson gave me a curt nod, then shoved Brad in our direction.

“Boy’s got something to say,” he said.

Brad nibbled his lip and toed the ground. “Sorry for punching you and for saying that mean stuff about your dad,” he said to Rhett.

Where is this coming from?

I managed to curtail my burgeoning surprise and nudged Rhett into a response.

“S’okay,” Rhett said.

Brad rifled through his pockets, producing a candy bar. “Want to share this with me?”

“Sure.” Rhett’s wavering smile grew, and he waved at me. “See you later, Mommy.”

The two boys ran off, looking to all outsiders like the best of friends. I stared after them, my jaw slack. What the heck just happened?

“Tell your man I’m sorry for taking a swing at him when he only wanted to talk,” Mr. Wilson said, not quite looking me in the eye. “Things have been tough on the home front. No excuse, though. And no excuse for Brad either. Your boy won’t have any more trouble with him.”

He thrust out his large hand, and I took it, more than a little stunned at the turn of events.

“I appreciate that, Mr. Wilson,” I said.

He nodded, mumbled something vague under his breath, then left. I gaped at his retreating back. Okay. Wow. Did not see that coming.

I returned to my truck, and as I closed the door behind me, I burst out laughing. For months, Rhett and Brad had been at each other’s throats, and then, just like that, the problem went away. No more worrying about him getting expelled from school or feeling that knot of anxiety in my stomach as I waited for him after class, my eyes seeking out Miss Carmichael. I wondered if I’d rubbed a Blarney stone by mistake. This kind of good fortune couldn’t last, surely.

After checking my blind spot, I pulled out into a space in the traffic and set off for home. Mine, not Nico’s. I needed my laptop, plus a few extra bits and pieces to last us until Friday. Whatever happened, I’d decided that Rhett and I were coming home then, if only to give Nico a break. For a man not used to having kids around, an exuberant six-year-old must feel exhausting at times. The break would also provide us both with some time to think. Everything was moving so fast. Spending a little time apart might give me the answers I sought as to what I wanted from the future and from my relationship with Nico.

It felt strange parking outside my tiny little house after living at Nico’s enormous sea-view mansion, and I worried I’d feel resentful having to come back here, but as I walked through the door, I smiled. The first thing I laid eyes on was one of Rhett’s trucks lying on its side in the middle of the living room. Whatever happened in the future between Nico and me, this home would always be where Rhett had spent his first few years, where he took his first steps and uttered his first word. This living room carpet was the one I’d paced for hours when he was teething, tunelessly singing to him. There were bad memories, too, but I preferred to focus on the good ones.

I went into my bedroom and pulled down a suitcase from the top shelf in my closet. I packed a few things, adding some of Rhett’s, too, as well as a few extra toys, including the truck. My laptop was on the kitchen table, still plugged into the wall. At least it’d be fully charged. After missing more than a week of work, I was massively behind and had a lot to do. First thing on the agenda was to contact my clients and let them know I’d been sick and that I’d get right back on track as soon as I could.

Now that I thought about it, it made more sense to stay here for the day and press on with work rather than go back to Nico’s now and then have to make the long drive over here to fetch Rhett after school. This way I’d save an hour and a half in travel time alone, not to mention Nico’s swimming pool was far too tempting on a warm day like today, and I couldn’t afford to get distracted.

I wrote down the names of all my clients in order of work schedule dates, and then, one by one, I rang each of them explaining what had happened, why I’d disappeared off the grid for so long, and a plan of how I intended to make up the time. I offered a small discount for the inconvenience—I couldn’t afford much—but secretly hoped they’d take pity on me and refuse the gesture. I might have put the idea of therapy sessions for Rhett on hold, but money was still damned tight, and every cent earned needed careful allocation.

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