Page 92 of Fast & Reckless
“Let’s get something sorted. I never blamed you. Not once. And I wasn’t angry with you. That bastard Brody, yes. That was a kind of rage I’ve never felt before, and I let it get the better of me. It had nothing to do with you.”
“Dad, it had everything to do with me.”
“My actions were my own, and so were the consequences. And if I seemed mistrustful … Well, I’ve been worried, that’s all. I didn’t want the same thing happening to you again. And now it has—”
With a forceful shake of her head, she cut him off. “This is not the same at all. I’m a grown adult, Dad. I chose Will. And I’m not sorry about that. Not even a little bit. You might have your doubts about him right now, but I don’t. He’s the best man I know. And now you’re the one making him pay for something that’s not his fault.”
Paul sighed and shook his head. “What’s the right thing to do here, Mira? I’m lost. I thought I did the right thing seven years ago by sending you home with your mother, but clearly it wasn’t. But Will being here on the team is going to cause you—us—problems.”
“Don’t kick Will off the team. He’s not the problem.”
He gave her a stern look. “Neither are you, so don’t you dare suggest it.”
“No, maybe not, but I am the solution.” All her pain and anger from the past twenty-four hours—from the past seven years—was finally beginning to coalesce in her head into something new. A resolution. Something she could do that finally felt good, felt strong.
“What do you mean?”
“Seven years ago, I didn’t handle this right. I let Brody’s lies about me stand as the truth, and it’s been an anchor around my neck ever since. I’ve been trying to live down a story someone else told about me. I’m not doing that this time. I’m telling the truth. I’m sorry for you and for Lennox if it makes things more difficult than they already are, but I have to do this. If you need me to leave the team, I understand, Dad. I really do.”
Her father looked at her as if he hadn’t been properly seeing her in a very long time, which might have been true. They’d both been seeing all the wrong things. He sighed deeply. “You’re not going anywhere, Mira, and neither is Will.”
The relief left her nearly weak in the knees. “Thank you, Dad.”
He pulled her into his arms for a fierce and all-encompassing hug, and Mira felt some small, wounded part of herself—a piece that had been hiding in the dark for seven long years—finally start to heal.
40
After that long-overdue conversation with her father, Mira went in search of Violet. The race was underway, but Mira didn’t have time to watch.
Violet was outside the press center, scowling at her iPad as she flipped through news sites.
“Violet, I need another favor.”
“Am I bringing matches or a shovel?” Violet replied without glancing up.
“Neither, I hope. I have a story to tell and I need the right person to tell it to.”
She paused and looked up. “This sounds serious.”
“It is. And I’m going a little rogue here, so you might not want to help me. It’s okay if you decide to steer clear.”
Violet leaned against the side of the press center. “Maybe you’d better tell me this story first and let me decide.”
Mira took a deep breath and swallowed hard. “That might require a drink. Are they serving alcohol in the press center?”
Violet snorted. “This is Italy.”
Violet ducked inside and emerged a few minutes later brandishing a bottle of wine. “Nicked it from a crate in the back.Sorry, no glasses. We’ll have to rough it. Come on. Let’s sit back here. The last thing we need right now is other people.”
Perching on a set of shallow metal steps along the back side of the press center, Violet took a hefty swig of the wine straight from the bottle. “One perk about Italy is that even the crappy free wine is still pretty good.”
She passed the bottle to Mira, and she took a long drink of her own.
“So,” Violet began. “I’ve already sorted the main points of this little tale, but I’m guessing I don’t have the whole story, do I?”
Mira took another drink. “Nope.” Then, for only the second time in her life, she confided in someone, telling Violet everything, from the start to the bitter end.
“Goddammit,” Violet muttered when she’d finished and they’d downed half the wine. “I’m going to castrate that motherfucker.”
