Page 24 of Wrecking Boundaries (SteelTrack Racing #2)

The big fight. His words echo, and a shiver runs through me. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It’s what it sounds like. We’re putting it out there, every bit of the ugly. You can yell and call me names if you want; I can take it.” Jake reaches out like he wants to take my hand but doesn’t, so he rubs his hair instead. “Here’s the important part. No matter what happens, I’ll still be here. I’ll be standing right here with you.”

“Your feet are going to get tired because it’s a mighty long list,” I shout. If Jake can take it, then let him prove it.

“Then do your best,” he says. “Let’s get started.”

“Fine. If you want a list of your faults, then here it is. Sometimes I don’t know if you’re serious, and it’s frustrating,” I say. It’s a small thing because I’ve learned Jake’s smile can lead you astray, but it’s not deliberate on his part. It’s still annoying, and he said to let it out, so that’s what I’m doing. “It makes me wonder if you’re being genuine.”

“That’s fair. I can make things sound like a joke when they aren’t. I’ll work on it.” Jake’s eyes soften, and I almost believe him.

I blink back angry tears because I never cry. “Also, you flat-out admitted to using me for your career, and you accused me of selling you out to my brother. Is this what I should expect? You doubting me over every little rumor or thought. Will bad finishes or wrecks become my fault, too?”

“It’s no different from what you do with me,” he says. I want to scream all over again. Jake takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “It’s my turn now, and you should know I’m scared of your reaction. You were never supposed to find out, and now I realize it was a horrible idea. Incredibly awful.”

“Your name isn’t Jake Knowles,” I spit out. “You already have a wife. Two of them.” Why the hell not? In my anger, it almost sounds reasonable.

Jake glances past my shoulder and bites his lip. His comment about fearing my reaction was true, after all. “You do have a wife,” I say, even knowing it isn’t true. “Oh, god.”

“Martin doesn’t exist,” Jake says in a flat voice.

“What?” I’m confused.

“I made him up. He’s fake.”

I’m still confused. “What?”

“Do you remember Daytona?” he asks.

My laptop and paperwork were spread all over the hotel table. Jake’s innocent behavior that night confused me for days afterward. “What did you do?”

“I took several pictures when your back was turned, and I also took a picture of your laptop screen. We weren’t strangers, and you spelled everything out in your plans, so I invented the perfect hook to get you talking. I used him to get information from you.”

“I need to sit down.” I collapse into a chair instead and put my head in my lap.

Jake stands over me and keeps going. “It’s why I called asking for your help. You enjoyed it more than you would have any other job. I opened up about my family because you kept bringing up yours, even though I avoid discussing them. It’s also why there’s a fence at my house.”

This is too much. “You put in a fence, and I’m supposed to be flattered. ”

“No, you’re missing the point,” he says, and I glare. Jake falls to his knees, so I look down at him, and he places a hand on my knee. “You said the dream was a white picket fence. I had one put in.”

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard.”

“Yes, I felt foolish doing it, yet you noticed.”

I shove his hand away and stand, not wanting to be so close. Not yet. Emotions are coming all at once, and it isn’t easy to know which to acknowledge first. “So you made up a fake guy to manipulate me?”

“No, I used the available tools to win you back, and I’d do it again.”

“You’d lie to me all over again?”

“I’ve never lied,” he says, following me back into the kitchen.

“Are we really arguing technicalities?” I’m not thirsty or hungry, but staying still isn’t an option either. “You tricked me,” I say, and Jake shakes his head. “Were you laughing at me?”

“I’ve never done that, and you know it. Why don’t you ever believe me when I compliment you? I’m constantly telling you how amazing you are, and you shrug it off every time.”

I huff and wave a hand between the two of us.

“Did you tell Boone my company was going under?” Jake asks.

“This again?” Frustration returns, and it carries in my voice. After repeated denials, he’s still doubting me. “Gossip and rumors spread fast in this sport, Jake. He found out through the same gossip mill you did. If I was giving your secrets away, there are juicer bits than the parts everyone already knows.” There’s bitterness in my voice towards the end, but I can’t help it. I promised to keep Jake’s needs separate from my regular job, and I did it, even to my brother’s detriment, and in return, Jake accuses me of betrayal.

“I should never have suspected you. You’re better than that, and I’m sorry,” he says, and I believe him. “Stop moving around; it’s difficult to have a conversation like this,” he says after I move back into the living area.

“I can’t just sit here and be calm.” Not when I’m melting down and on the verge of another freakout. I turn the thermostat down several degrees and welcome the blast of cold air on my skin.

I need to keep alcohol in my pantry: grain alcohol or something equally awful. The kind that gives you a hangover so bad that you concentrate on it more than your actual problems.

“Then scream,” Jake says.

“What?”

“Go on. Yell as loud as you can. It will make you feel better.”

His suggestion sucks some of the nervous energy out of me. “You invented a fake guy who stood me up. How long did you intend to pretend? Were you going to use him to find out what I want for Christmas or maybe find out my secret opinion about….” I can’t think of anything. “About whether hot dogs are sandwiches. It’s a controversial subject.” Jake dares to chuckle, so I stamp my foot. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing either, Princess. I invented a fake guy, yeah.” Jake raises a hand, extending his fingers like a wolf’s claws. “You told me to give you time, and you use it to go on a date. To a crappy restaurant, too.”

“Your fake guy is the one who suggested it, and you’re blaming me.”

“That was a clue he wasn’t the right man for you.”

This is ridiculous. “And that’s you? ”

“Yes!” Jake’s hand and voice both drop together. “Instead of speaking to me, you perform some strange test. If you have doubts or fears, then tell me. Hell, if you want to yell at someone, come to me for that, too. You bring them to me so we can work through it. That’s what being in a relationship is. It’s not texting some fucking guy to perform a strange experiment. It’s also not comparing our life to some fucking spreadsheet. Life isn’t an abstract pro and con list.” His voice grows louder the longer he speaks. Jake breathes, and his voice drops to its typical level. “It’s just us trying to figure it all out and knowing we can because we have each other. I can take anything you send my way. Anything at all, except you avoiding me. I won’t run, Sarah.”

He said my name, and my eyes wouldn’t stop blinking.

I will not cry. I do not cry. Ever.

“If that’s true, why don’t you like my brother? He’s a good man.”

Jake takes a step back. “I killed my father. Or I might as well have. He worked hard to make my career happen; it killed him.”

“He had a heart attack, Jake. Sometimes horrible things happen, and you were just a child.”

“Sixteen is old enough not to have that for an excuse.” He shakes his head. “I kept demanding more. More parts for a new engine, more for a new kart. All that costs money, money we didn’t have. I only found out after he died and wasn’t around to hide the late payment notices coming in the mail. The stress killed him.”

“His belief in you was strong enough that the risk was worth it. Look where you are, Jake. He was right.” I go silent. My brother had all that provided for him from the moment he could put his feet on a pedal. His determination is every bit as strong as Jake’s. “I suppose we grew up privileged.”

“You grew up without ever worrying if someone would turn off your electricity,” he says.

I don’t respond because his anger is directed at his past, a situation he had no control over, rather than at me. “Boone grew up being compared to our father. Tom Rivers is a legend in NASCAR, holding records that are still waiting to be broken. Boone has gone his whole life hearing that he isn’t as good as his father, feeling desperate to prove he has as much of a right to participate as you or anyone else. He runs Rivers Motorsports because of that same need. He’s responsible for the jobs of three hundred people, and he’s afraid he’s not good enough. You and Boone are more alike than you think, Jake.”

“I guess I never thought of it that way.”

I shake my head. “Both of you keep choosing to attack first, and I’m stuck in the middle.”

“No, we’re two people alike enough that it leads to clashes. It’s nothing to do with you at all.”

“Then why did you pick me?”

Jake starts. “Pick you? What in the fucking hell does that mean?”

“You targeted me last season, Jake. We flirted, and you said it was nothing special, and then you came back.”

“That’s not fair,” he says, and I hear the first twinge of anger during the entire fight. “You said we can’t be serious; we were having fun. That was your choice, and I was dumb enough to agree. You put those conditions on us from the beginning. My mistake was thinking you’d change your mind, and I’ve regretted it ever since. You were wrong, and the proof is right here with us having this argument.”

I finally sit. All the confused energy is gone, replaced with misery and a worn-out body. Jake said we were having a big fight, and we probably are. He thinks it will solve all our problems, while my skin feels like someone took a scouring pad to it .

“Don’t you remember what you said in Daytona?” I ask.

He shrugs with confusion. “That was the beginning of the season. I barely even remember the race.”

He crashed six laps in, but I don’t bring that up. “You called us a competition and said you would win it, too, like you always do.”

Jake smiles his familiar cocky smile. “Yeah, that sounds like something I would say.”

“You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

I jerk a hand towards him. “Acting like it’s funny.”

Jake takes a deep breath and gets back on his knees before me. We’re in the same position we started in.

“You don’t easily trust, which I didn’t get before.” He puts his hand back on my knee, and I don’t shove it away this time. “The thing is, I know all your secret dreams, the ones you’ve never told anyone. Eventually, you’ll have to trust someone, even if that someone isn’t me.”

“I do trust you.”

“I’m not done,” he starts, and I start blinking again. “You trust me, and I think some part of you still worries I’m using you to advance my career. The thing is, you know my secrets, and that means you can ruin mine. I’m putting my trust in you. Do you know how easy that is for me?”

I only nod because my throat closes up.

“You have reasons to doubt, and I get it, but like I said, you have to trust someone. Eventually. You deserve your perfect future; you deserve all of it, but it can only happen if you trust the person doing it with you. That won’t change, even if you decide to do it all with someone else.

“Do you know what else? After everything we said, I’m still on my knees with you. I still love you. I’m still in love with you. I still want to marry you.”

Everyone knows about the world’s significant discoveries, like gravity or electricity. My discovery isn’t big like those, but it matters just as much.

I accused Jake of wrecking my boundaries, and that was wrong. He’s been trying to show me he’s different from Joey Fisher and all the others that came before. He’s sticking, no matter what, and I refused to see it.

I refused to believe it.

The blinking fails, and the tears run. Jake catches one, and I wipe the other with my hand. They keep going. “I love you too. I tried to ignore it, but I couldn’t. I’ve been in love with you since last season when we-”

“When we split a slice of tiramisu on our first date?”

I laugh, but it comes out as a blubbering snort. “Since then.”

“Do you feel better?”

I wipe my cheeks, grateful the tears dried up, and nod. My makeup probably frightens him. “Is that what the big fight is?”

“Not sure. I made up the term because it sounded important.”

I caress his cheek, and Jake twists to kiss my palm. His blond hair is a mess, but it always is. His blue eyes shine, and I wonder if he’s holding back his own tears.

“What do we do next?”

“That depends on whether you’re still angry.”

I close my eyes and take several deep breaths. All the thrumming under my skin is gone, along with the horrible barrage of emotions. “I’m not angry. I am still an emotional mess.”

“That’s progress. The next time your instinct to withdraw kicks in, come to me first. I can take whatever it is, except not being here with you.”

“I will. I’ll come to you.”

“Then the answer to your earlier question is I make you some dinner, assuming you have food in your kitchen, and then take you to bed.” He goes to the kitchen and returns seconds later. “There’s no food in your kitchen.”

I think hard. “There’s instant oatmeal.”

“It’s a good thing I enjoy oatmeal,” Jake says. It’s easy, closer to his usual good humor, with no mocking or cockiness. “Let’s hope it’s brown sugar and cinnamon.”

We eat, and Jake grabs me before I finish washing our dishes.

“I’m heavy.”

“Believe me, you’re not.” He sets me down in the bedroom. “Where do you keep your pajamas? Those cute tank top ones with the pink bunny on it.”

Did he notice? I point at a dresser drawer.

I change while he strips to his boxer briefs before we climb into bed.

We lay together in silence, both of us wrung out.

I drift into a dreamless sleep with his warm body wrapped around mine.