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Monterey

I don’t really know what to say. The two men look at me, waiting for me to explain Danger’s actions to them, but I really have nothing to tell them.

I stand, running a hand down to smooth my suit jacket. “I kind of agree with him.” I race out the door, hoping I can catch up to Danger.

I spot him walking along the sidewalk just outside the building. “Danger, wait up.”

He doesn’t turn around.

“Dylan,” I call out.

He turns, his eyes piercing straight through me.

“Can we talk?”

He smiles, but it isn’t one of happiness. I can see all the pain and hurt he’s had to deal with for years. “Want to grab some coffee?” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to a coffee shop not more than a block away.

I nod and fall in step beside him.

We get to the coffee shop and find a booth hidden in a corner at the back of the place. We order from the server, and just utter a few nonchalant pleasantries to each other.

I pour a little cream into my mug, stirring with the thin black stick, waiting for Danger to speak first.

He does the same, fixing his coffee the way he likes it. Two sugars, no cream. He sucks in a deep breath, his eyes glancing up to meet mine. “I don’t like the pity. I see it there sometimes when people know the truth. It makes me feel like I should have figured out what my father was before. It makes me feel like I should have protected my mother more. Like I’m a walking disaster.”

Tears well in my eyes, my heart cracking a little more for this man before me.

His father failed at his attempt to bend his beautiful spirit, and now he’s standing in front of me defending himself. And at the same time he looks so vulnerable.

“You’re not a failure, Dylan. You were just a kid.”

He shakes his head, like I could never understand his past. And yes, I’ll never fully understand what it was like to grow up the way he did, doesn’t mean I won’t be here for him. “I plan on racing. So you and your dad can calm down.”

“Dylan, that’s not even anything I’m worried about right now. I want to help you. I want to be the person to help you deal with all this pain.”

“Pain? What do you know about pain?”

“More than you think.” I grab his hand from across the table. “Sure, maybe I don’t know about your pain. I lost my mother, too. And I know what that void feels like.”

His eyes don’t meet mine. “Monterey, you’re too good for me.”

“What?” I almost laugh at his statement. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t try to understand my pain, because you never will. Each person in this world has their own pain to bear. And I don’t need you to help me bear mine.”

He needs to understand this is what a real couple is all about. Leaning on each other to find support, compassion, and above all, love.

“Well, I’d still like to try.”

He laughs, but there’s no humor there. “I don’t think you can.”

“Dylan, you don’t owe me anything. But I kind of thought what we had was real.”

He laughs again. One short burst of laughter with absolutely no humor underneath. “Real? Of course it wasn’t real, Monterey.”

Tears threaten to fall, but I lift my chin up, not wanting him to see me cry. I’m the silly girl who fell for him, who trusted him. He doesn’t think what we had was real, but I sure do. Every touch. Every kiss. Every word whispered in the dark, all of it,was real to me.

It still is.

I love him.

“Well, I want it to be.”

He shakes his head, his eyes, for the first time since we sat down, meet mine. There’s so much pain there, so much sadness. “Well, I don’t.” He stands, tossing some bills from his wallet onto the table and then I watch him as he walks away.

And I’m rooted to my spot. I don’t chase after him, although every cell in my entire body wants me to rush out the glass doors and call to him. Beg him to love me.

But, I know that’s not how life works.

I won’t beg someone to love me if they don’t.

That’s not real. I just have to face the fact that we aren’t meant to be with each other, even though I think we’re a perfect fit.

Even though I can’t imagine my life with anyone else.

I don’t know how long I sit in the booth, but night falls over the city like a blanket, covering me from the sadness I feel deep in my bones.

“More coffee?” the waitress asks, holding the pot of black coffee over my mug.

“I think I’ve had enough.” I get up, and leave the diner, unsure what to do next. Before I even make it home, my father sends me a text, asking me to meet him at his house.

When I arrive, it’s late.

“What happened?” he asks me the second he sees me.

I step through his front door, moving right into his study, over to the liquor cabinet, and make myself a strong drink.

I suck down the amber liquid, letting it burn my throat all the way down. “Danger.”

He smiles, wheeling up beside me to make his own drink. He drops a few ice cubes, and they clank inside his glass. “I see the way you two stare at each other. You’ve fallen for him, right?”

I sit on the sofa, taking another hefty sip of my scotch on the rocks. I nod. “Yes, I have. But, he doesn’t feel the same way.”

My father finishes making his drink and studies its contents before speaking. “I think he does feel the same. Maybe he’s scared.”

I shake my head. “No, he isn’t scared.”

“Monterey, Danger’s just had his life turned upside down. Things he wanted to keep hidden are now public knowledge. I’m sure that can’t be easy for him. I’m sure he’s not thinking clearly.”

I stare at my drink, thinking about how selfish I’m being. I’m sitting here expecting Dylan to come to terms with how he feels about me when his whole world is currently crashing down around him.

I feel like an idiot.

“I know you didn’t call me here to talk about Danger.”

My father smiles. “I’ve made up my mind, the engine is in motion. I’m retiring after the season’s over, the team will be yours to take over.”

My chest floods with a warmth of pride and joy. “This is the best gift ever, Dad, it’s unbelievable.” I smile, setting my drink down. I walk over to my father and lean over to give him a hug. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Once I’m settled back down on the couch he swirls the ice cubes in his glass around. “I’ve always trusted you. I know how much you want this. I know how important this team is to you.”

I nod. “It is.”

“And I can see your dedication to the sport and the drivers.”

I take another sip of my drink, letting it warm me up. Ever since Dylan walked out on me, I’ve had this chill in my bones no amount of alcohol or coffee could possibly warm. “Thank you, Dad.”

“I just want you to be happy.” He stares at my mother’s ring on my finger. “Did I ever tell you how happy she was when I put that on her finger.”

I stare at my left hand, watching the diamond sparkle in the dim light of the room. “No, you never told me.”

He smiles, casting a faraway look on his face. “She told me she’d never met anyone like me before.” His eyes meet mine and I can see the sadness there. “She was like an angel, Monterey. She was my very own angel.”

I want that sort of happiness more than anything too. But, I know the only thing that will make me happy right now is having Dylan by my side. I don’t let myself think about anything too hard as I smile back at my father. “Thank you.”

“Now, we have a race to win.”

We go over a few strategies and last minute race day accommodations until it’s late and I decide to head home.

“You can always stay here,” my father says. “You did suck down that drink.”

I smile. “Ok, sure.” I head upstairs and am ready for this night to be over with.

I need Dylan to know how I feel about him, even if it pushes him further away. I want him to know how much I care about him.

I think about the book, the man who raised Dylan and everything it all means. Dylan’s right, that movie shouldn’t be made.

No one should give the man who ruined his life a voice. Even though it made Dylan into the man he is today, it’s still too much. I can’t believe how entrapped I was with the book. In the beginning, when I first started reading it, I thought it was action-packed and fun. Now, I can truly understand the mind of his father.

He’s sick.

But, it’s not Dylan’s fault.

My phone rings on the nightstand and I grab it, not recognizing the number flashing across the screen.

“Hello,” I say into the phone.

“Is this Monterey Grander?”

The voice sounds familiar and my mind works overtime trying to place the voice to a name. “Yes.”

“It’s Ricky Moore.”

“I have nothing to say to you.” I’m about to hang up, but he tells me to wait, and I pause.

“Meet me tomorrow, before the race. It’s definitely worth it.”