Page 36 of Octane

“Now I don’t even have that anymore.”

“What do you mean?” Jackson’s eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Because of my racing schedule, I asked if I could go from three days a week to one day a week at the office. That way I could still maintain some of my own income if this racing thing doesn’t go anywhere.”

Jackson looks at me like I’m nuts.

“You’re going somewhere, Sawyer. You need to believe in yourself.”

Ignoring Jackson, I continue.

“Anyway, after what happened at the track yesterday, he arranged for my termination.”

“I’m so sorry, Sawyer,” Jackson closes his eyes, but I don’t miss the look of pity in them before they shut.

I hate that he pities me. I don’t want to be pitied.

“What exactly happened yesterday? I heard the noise when Daniel hit the garage door, but I don’t know what happened leading up to that.”

“He tried to use the negativity that the guys have toward me to his advantage. Embarrassing me in front of them so badly, that I wouldn’t want to show my face anymore. Make me want to quit.”

Jackson looks at me with fury in his eyes. I can see the muscle in his jaw tic as his anger rises. He looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t, so I continue.

“He said they don’t want me on their team because I’m no good. They know what he knows: that I’m not cut out for racing, and it’s time I put my silly pipe dream to rest. But I told him no. That I wasn’t quitting. That made him mad, and he backed me up into the garage door. Nate stepped in and asked me if I was okay. That’s when he hit the door and yelled at Nate.”

“And that’s when I showed up.”

I nod, because I don’t know if I can say any more.

“Why don’t you leave him?”

My eyes meet his, but I don’t answer him. Not because I can’t, but because I know my answer isn’t good enough. It’s ridiculous to hold on to the memory of someone who disappeared a long time ago.

If I’m smart enough to know that, why am I not smart enough to get out?

“I know that it can feel impossible to get out from underneath someone like Daniel, but I’ve got to know, do youwantto leave him?”

It’s as if he can read my mind, and his question brings another wave of tears.

“Yes,” I answer softly.

The moment the word floats from my lips, I feel lighter. I’ve never admitted it out loud before. I feel a sense of relief, a sense of power. It’s liberating to finally say the words.

“I want to help you in any way I can.”

The sincerity in his stare saddens me and makes me feel bitter that I’m not the one who will end up with someone as genuine and wonderful as him.

“I don’t want to involve you, Jackson,” I tell him.

“You’re not involving me; I’m asking you to let me help you. Will you please let me know if I can be of assistance?”

“Okay,” I nod.

Relief washes over his face. He doesn’t need to know that I won’t take him up on it, but I don’t want to insult his kindness.

“I’m really sorry to hear about what you went through growing up,” I say, changing the subject. “Did your mom ever get out?”

Jackson looks down at the floor for a minute. I give him the time he needs to answer my question, but the longer he takes to respond, the clearer my answer becomes. When he looks up, his damp, red-rimmed eyes answer my question.

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