Page 9 of I'm Sorry

My mind jumps back to the time he first called me the name. Benny and I had broken up for reasons that were none of Trace’s business, but seeing as they are best friends, Trace took it upon himself to say that it was because we had been together over a year and I hadn’t slept with him.

I was younger and Benny wouldn’t take me until I was eighteen, since he was so much older than me. When Trace found out that we split up, he said it was probably because my pussy was locked up tighter than Fort Knox, making a play on the shortened version of my name that everyone else calls me. I hate him because it has stuck. He only uses it when he’s thoroughly pissed off because it even makes Benny mad.

My back teeth grind, and I watch Trace’s eyes flick to the motion. One side of his lips pulls up into a smirk.Fucker. I could castrate him most days and not even think twice about it.

“Trace.” Benny’s authority rings through. He may be the pretty boy with tattoos now, the one who has done a one-eighty since his gang days, but that roughness will never go away. I try not to flinch when he uses that tone. “I love you, brother, but I’ve had about enough of you speaking to her like that. How about you take some time to cool off?”

Trace scoffs. “Tell her to learn how to fucking drive.”

“If you’ve got a problem, then take it out on the track. Not in person. You’re causing a scene that neither of you can afford,” Benny demands, and if I weren’t so pissed off, I’d love how he’s sticking up for me. But right now, I’m so mad that I can’t even appreciate it.

Trace’s jaw jumps with derision, but I don’t miss the way his eyes travel over my body with something akin to heat in his eyes. I’m not sure he knows he’s doing it. My traitorous frame flares with desire, and I huff a breath. The man is too sexy for his own good, which annoys me to no end. I don’t need him looking at me like that.

Benny backs away from me to place a palm on Trace’s shoulder, but his best friend jerks away. “Fuck off, both of you.”

“T, don’t be like that. C’mon,” Benny protests, anguish filling his features. After the death of their parents, Dank carted them to West City so they could start fresh, away from here. Dank joined the Devils and never looked back. Then eventually, Benny found a home with the gang as well. Until he lost Elias. He had to leave because he couldn’t handle West City without him. Losing Elias has created an innate fear in him of losing anyone else and he’ll do anything to keep the people in his life happy to keep from losing them. It doesn’t help that Trace and I never see eye to eye.

“Nah, fuck this. I don’t have to put up with this. I get that you’re whipped, bro, but if you can’t see what she did on that track…” When I saw him in catering this morning, I could tell he was upset but I didn’t think he would take it out on me over practice.

“What I did on the track?” My words come out as more of a shriek. I was just racing. Benny holds up a hand to keep me quiet, but I know he isn’t upset with me.

Clearly Benny saw the clean run I made, and it’s just Trace going through something. He becomes very insecure when he isn’t able to snag a win either in practice, qualifying, or on race day. In his eyes, everything he does is never good enough, and it makes me sad for him because he truly is my only competition. I feel for the guy. Growing up like the way he did had to be difficult. We come from similar backgrounds, but my parents loved and nurtured me while his dad turned him into a self-loathing machine to carry on the family name.

I almost look up to stop his departure and apologize, but Benny’s silence makes it clear to keep my mouth shut. My talking would only make it worse right now. The bottle of water Trace holds goes catapulting through the air and I flinch, feeling like a total dick. It crashes into a banner on the side of the canopy my dad has set up to keep my bike under.

Instead of talking the situation down and figuring out how I could make him feel better, I added fuel to his fire. Normally, that isn’t me but with him, I just can’t help myself. From now on, though, I need to be the bigger person when he’s like this.

“T. Johnson, do not walk away from me.” Trace flips Benny off so my boyfriend kisses me on the cheek and congratulates me again then promises me that he’ll be right back. I nod and offer a solemn smile because I know it hurts him to see his friend like this. He takes off in Trace’s direction.

“Don’t follow me, B. Gibbs. I need a fucking minute.” I crack a smile at the ridiculous way they alter one another’s names and make my way toward my trailer, opting to give them the time they need to sort their shit out before I apologize.

“No can do, brother. A minute is all it takes for you to start drinking.” Trace throws a scathing look over his shoulder, one that could kill if possible.

Scaling the steps, I open the door to my trailer. A hint of Benny’s cologne wafts out around me and I smile, soaking it in. It’s not something I’m used to smelling here. I’m gonna have to keep a bottle of it so I can spray it all around because that mixed with race fuel has my body doing some naughty thinking.

“I’m at the track. I’m not gonna drink. Fuck off with that bullshit.” Benny lets out the world’s longest groan and shakes his head.

“Trace, please, just let’s take a walk or something. Yeah?”

“No.”

“For the love of God,” Benny mumbles. I step through the threshold, wishing Benny all the best in calming his best friend down.

CHAPTERSIX

BENNY

“What the ever-loving-fuck was that about?”I whip open the door to Trace’s trailer, not giving a shit if he wants me here or not. I’m never at the track, so I don’t know his rituals or routine, but I gave him about thirty minutes to cool off after he slammed the door in my face. For all I know, he’s in the shower or asleep. Don’t know, don’t care. After the way shit just got heated with Lennox, I know something is up. They bicker like an old married couple, but they rarely fight like that, especially at the track. Their competition is generally healthy.

A deep moan reaches my ears, and I tug the door to the bathroom after stomping through his empty trailer. Through the clear shower curtain, Trace has his cock engulfed in his hand, spewing cum everywhere, his head tossed back against the shower wall.

“Thinking of my girl while you fuck your hand?” I always pick on Trace, saying that he loves my girl because nothing gets him irritated more.

He glares at me through hooded lids as his chest heaves with his release. I force myself to keep my eyes on his face and not notice his ripped body. As an athlete, he has always looked good, but I’m also not into him like that. I’m bi, sure, but I would never go there with him. Ruining our relationship isn’t something I’d be able to handle if we went there. Plus, he’s straight, so there’s that.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“I’ll be waiting because we’re talking this shit out.” I don’t close the door because it isn’t like I haven’t seen Trace naked before. What I won’t do is let him retreat into himself and shut down. He’s promised he doesn’t drink while he’s at the track, but he has that look in his eye.

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