“I’m full of surprises, Brady,” I mock back to her.
Usually, people think I’m into country music because of where I live and what I do. People can like what they want, but country music is just not my thing.
“How’d you get into metal?” I ask, curious.
She takes a beat before answering.
She takes a beat before answering.
“When my mom died…” She trails off. I notice her taking an extra breath to steady herself.
“We don’t have to talk about it, Regan, if you don’t want to,” I say. She glances over to me at the use of her first name. The last time I did that, we were in Chase’s backyard about ready to taste each other. Using her first name isn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
I know her mom passed away from cancer when she was young. It happened while Karsen was still racing, and he took some time off that season to deal with everything. I’m sure it was as hard for her as it was for him at the time. I know from personal experience that grief can hit you hard out of nowhere at times.
“No, it’s fine. It still hurts sometimes.” She sniffles a bit. I have the urge to reach out to her, but I refrain and keep my hands in my lap.
“I understand. I feel the same way about Daniel. Things are never the same, but you learn to deal with them.”
She snaps her head at me and then turns back to the road. “Daniel? The little boy from the hospital?” She seems frantic and concerned for the little boy.
“No, not the boy from the hospital.” Does she not know? I just assume everyone knows what happened to Daniel.
It was big news in the racing world. It implemented safety checks on all equipment before using it before every race. If nothing else, something good came out of his death in the end. “My brother, Daniel, passed away in a racing accident two years ago. He hit the wall at a weird angle and his HANS device failed. He was dead at the scene before any of the rescue team could get to him.”
A small gasp escapes her pink lips, like she just remembered all the headlines about it.
“That was your brother? I never put the two together. I’m sorry…I can’t imagine how hard that’s been,” she says apologetically.
I nod. “It is.” There’s nothing left to say about it. It was hard then, and it’s still hard two years later. I still feel guiltythat I wasn’t there. That I was states away racing and there was nothing I could do. A big brother’s job is to protect their younger siblings, and I couldn’t even do that.
Regan breaks the silence that has filled the cab of the truck. “I used music to help deal with my emotions, and metal just gets me. I know that doesn’t make sense.”
“No, it makes perfect sense. I used it at first to be different. Then I used it a lot to cope with losing Daniel.”
We both sit in the knowledge that we have more in common than I think either of us thought. Where I thought she was just a spoiled nepo baby, but there are more layers to Regan than I thought.
So much more.
SEVENTEEN
REGAN
It’s beena few hours on the road since I picked up Dean from his shop after he messaged me about his truck breaking down and needing a ride. I never thought I’d be alone in a vehicle with him, or alone with him anywhere. But it isn’t too bad. He’s actually pleasant to talk to.
Did I really just say that? Dean Dixon, pleasant to talk to? I must be getting tired on this drive.
I pull into a truck stop to get gas and park at a pump. Dean hops out and is about to tap his card at the pump before I stop him.
“No need,” I say, pulling out a credit card from the holder on the back of my phone case. “Company credit card.”
He steps aside to let me tap my card and punch in the code, albeit a bit begrudgingly. I’m about to pick up the handle on the pump when Dean steps in and places it into the gas tank, waiting as it begins to fill up the tank.
“I can do that. It’s my truck,” I say, placing my hands on my hips.
“Brady, let me pump the damn gas,” he says in a tone that says not to push back.
I release a sigh and head inside to use the restroom andget some snacks before heading back out on the road. I grab a Diet Coke and a bag of chips. I find Dean in another aisle, a Monster Energy drink in one hand, and he is trying to pick a snack. His green eyes scan the shelves of snacks before him, taking in each one. I can almost see the gears in his brain working as he weighs his options. I wonder if this is what he looks like behind the wheel. He grabs a Cosmic Brownie and turns to me.
