Page 50 of Beneath the Hood

After my father’s death, there was this well of hopelessness that opened up in the center of my chest, allowing me to sink into its darkness without knowing its depth. By the time I realized how far I had fallen, it was too late, my feet slipping off the grimy walls of grief whenever I’d try to climb my way out.

But my mom needed me to be the man of the house, to be her pillar of support when she couldn’t stand on her own, and people treat you different when you don’t paste on a smile. So, I hid behind a mask of charm, not wanting anyone to see the monster of despair grabbing my ankles and pinning me down, threatening to eat me alive any time I tried to leap away.

And that’s how I’ve always been known. Jackson Rhoades. The easygoing charmer. No one ever cared to look a little deeper, happy to accept me at face value. And I liked that they didn’t try.

I’ve worked hard at building ladders to climb out of that hole, and Ineverwant to be back there again—buried so deep it takes years to see the light. So, I need to figure my shit out before the whispers of sadness grow limbs and wrap around me, dragging me back down.

Starting with the fact that I have feelings for two women at once. Like my heart grew in Blakely’s presence, allowing her to sneak in and fill up all the cracks. Now that she’s there, everything I feel for Lee is dulled. A ghost haunting the corridors of my memories, hovering between this life and the next.

I still feel her though, like raised flesh on old wounds. Scars don’t disappear just because the cuts begin to heal.

The past few nights, I’ve gone back to the beach, sat in the same spot, and expected memories of Lee to take every thought.My sweetheart.I’ve been surprised to find it’s Blakely that floods through my mind instead.

I wonder if she’s doing okay. Worry about whether she has someone real with her, or if she’s surrounded by the ones who keep her strapped down with “flaws” and “episodes”, because they know people who don’t believe in themselves are easier to control.

Then I think of how different our lives really are, but how I understand,so well,the need to show someone a different face than the one your soul wears.

I think of how it feels to be the person who draws out her candor, who she lets in to wade through her darkness.

A heavy feeling swims in my gut—a shark circling its prey—waiting for realization to hit.

And then it does.

I don’t want Lee.

Because even when I’ve loved her, have pined for her, it’s never felt like this.

This soul deep connection, pure in its honesty and raw in its need.

Shocking how quickly it formed. Or maybe it was there all along and my acceptance is what makes it flare so bright. All I know is suddenly it’s taking over every waking moment and diving into my dreams, until all I can see, think, taste, touch,feelis the need to be with Blakely.

But even with all of these emotions that rage inside of me and spark off my skin, it doesn’t take away the pain of my best friend, the one I’ve loved for years, treating me like a second choice.

The pain morphs at that realization, going from a longing agony to a stabbing ache, my eyes clearing of the fog.

All the things I’ve been finding in Lee, are things that fall short of what I deserve. But I didn’t know there was more to want.

Blakely, she looks at me like I’m the center of her everything. She listens like I’m the most important person in her world. She trusts like she can see into my soul.

So, no. I don’twantLee. Because the way I feel for Blakely? It’s pounding through my bloodstream and shocking every cell, showing me all the ways life could be if I experienced it with her.

* * *

Footsteps clackalong the concrete floors of the garage, making me look up from where I’m sketching out the design for the 1967 Shelby GT500.

James Donahue strolls between the lifts, glancing at the shells to what will become his biggest production of the year. My heart rams against my chest, stomach tensing into knots, hoping he’s here for business. Afraid that he can see inside my brain and pull out all the ways I’ve been daydreaming of doing filthy things to his daughter.

He stops next to my desk, peering over my shoulder, the smell of cigars and wealth wafting through the air and mixing with the silence, making my gut churn.

“Hmm.” His hand comes down on my shoulder, patting once before he backs away, leaning against the body of the Cadillac El Dorado. I bite my tongue to keep from asking him to move to a different spot.

“I see the new cars came in.” He glances around.

Tossing my pencil down, I turn to face him. “Yep. Can’t wait to get started.” Excitement spins in the center of my chest like a pinwheel. “This is why I took this gig.”

His lips twitch. “Well that makes two of us. The reason I sought you out was forthisproduction.”

“Oh, really?”

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