I fill her in on everything, just as if she were physically here, and as weird as it sounds, I know that she’s listening. “What do I do? How do I fix this? Can I be with Dean and have my dream of being in Cup?” I wait for her response to hit me, and take in a breath and thank her. Always knowing what to say. I think I know what I have to do, what I should do. I climb back into the passenger seat and click my seatbelt.
“Looks like you and Mom had a lot to talk about,” Dad says, looking proud. I know he’s glad I came back here with him. I am, too.
“We did. It was nice. I feel like she was here today.”
Dad places a hand on my shoulder. “Me too, kiddo.”
We leave the cemetery, and for the first time in a long time, thinking about Mom doesn’t bring on the sadness it usually does. It makes me remember her love, her laugh, her smile, her hugs. Everything about her that made her the best mom. I’d rather remember her for the happy times than the reason she’s not with us anymore.
FORTY-SEVEN
DEAN
Back at my apartment,I’m still trying to wrack my brain as to what to do with this Instagram post. I’m no closer to a solution than when I left the track. I’m making the final trip out to my truck to finish unpacking when I see Tom approaching me.
This can’t be good.
“Hey, Tom, what’s u—?” I don’t even have time to finish my question before Tom starts speaking.
“Office! Now!” His voice is stern and not welcoming, which is unusual for him. Even when angry, Tom is still a bit nice. It seems that’s not the case right now.
I follow him into the team office building that’s next to the shop, my heart hammering in my chest every step that I take. The only time I’ve ever been this nervous was when I originally signed onto the team.
There isn’t much in his office, just a few pictures of him with his wife and two daughters, a laptop, and a monitor. My mind is reeling. I know this has to be about Ian’s post. I’m just not sure how exactly this will all play out.
“Close the door and take a seat, Dean,” he instructs. I do what I’m told, trying to keep as calm as possible, but my legis bouncing as soon as I sit down. “By now, you’ve seen the photo that Ian Hicks posted on his Instagram.” He steeples his fingers and leans forward, placing his forearms on his desk.
I nod, and I do my best to force out, “Yes, sir.” Sounding a bit shakier than I planned.
“I want to know what happened. I don’t care what Hicks said happened. I need to hear it from you.”
I take a breath and push it out to clear the knot in my throat. “I did punch him.” I pick my next words carefully, not wanting to drag Regan further in with me. I would much rather take most of the heat than have her chances in this series or the next ruined because of a decision I made. “But, it isn’t for the reason he stated in the post. He was being inappropriate with another driver, and I stepped in when he didn’t get the hint to leave.”
Tom sits back in the chair, the creak the only sound in the room except my racing heartbeat. I still can’t read his face about what he’s thinking or what he might say.
“Did this involve Regan Brady at all?” he asks.
“It’s not my place to say, sir,” I say plainly.
He nods like he knows what I’m trying to say. “I see. Well, until this is resolved, I have to suspend you next week. I’m sorry, Dixon.” The look on his face tells me he doesn’t want to, but he has to. Not taking action would look worse for the team.
I don’t even remember walking out of his office. The warm air of the evening hits me, and that’s when the reality of what Tom said truly sinks in. I’m suspended from the second to last race of the season. That means no points and putting my chances for the Cup right into Regan or Ian’s hands. The thought of Ian getting a chance at this makes me want to scream, and my only hope is that Regan can keep her lead.
At the beginning of the season, the thought of anyone, butespecially Regan, getting that championship and the Cup Series spot would have made my blood boil. That was before everything that’s happened this season, before my growing feelings for her. Thinking about Regan winning makes me happy for her. Proud, even. She’s worthy of that spot, and if nothing else, I hope she keeps it out of Hicks’ grumpy hands.
I shove my hands into my pockets as I get to the stairs that lead to my apartment. A figure steps out of the shadows, and I’m startled for a moment until I realize who it is.
“Regan? Why are you here?” I ask. She’s here. My stomach twists with excitement, just seeing her, knowing that she’s here for me…us.
“I needed to see you. I needed to be sure you were okay after everything.” She strides over to me and takes my hand, lacing our fingers together. My face must not convey how happy I am to see her, because her brows knit together. “Did something happen?”
“I’m…suspended for the next race. Tom just told me,” I say in almost a whisper.
“What? That’s bullshit. You didn’t do anything wrong,” she bellows. She squeezes my hand, making me look up at her. “I know you’ll probably say no, but I’m going to ask anyway. Do you want me to talk to my dad to see if he can help with the suspension?”
I shake my head. There’s nothing anyone can do. It’s no one else’s fault but mine, and I don’t think even Karsen Brady can swoop in and save the day.
“No, but thank you for trying to help.”
