Finally, I get the energy to roll off him, and I attempt to getup as his release starts to drip out of me and onto my thighs. I try to stand, but Dean stops me, telling me to stay seated, though I may have ruined his futon already. Dean returns with a warm washcloth and stands me up as he drops to his knees and cleans his release from me.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I say.
“I clean up the messes I make, Regan,” he says knowingly. Understanding hits me, this whole situation we’ve found ourselves in, not just whatever this is between us, his suspension, Ian’s post—all of it.
After getting dressed, we finish off the pizza and play some more video games before I decide I need to head home. As much as I want to stay, I need to talk with Dad about everything, even if I still don’t want to. If I’m going to get out of this in one piece, I know I’m going to need his help.
When I walk back into the house an hour later, Dad is sitting at the kitchen table on his laptop. I’m all in my head about how I’m going to start this conversation. By now, I’m sure Dad has heard about most of it.
Dad looks up from his computer as I sit across from him at the table. “What’s up, kiddo?”
“I have something to tell you. I’m sure you’ve heard about some of it already. I wanted to tell you everything myself. I’m also probably going to need your help to get out of it,” I say all in one breath.
Closing the laptop and pushing it aside, he says, “Whatever it is Regan, you can talk to me about it.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. This is going to be harder than I thought. I clear my throat, hoping it’ll help. “I’ve been sort of seeing Dean.” I wait a beat before continuing, thinking he’ll interject, but he doesn’t. “I’m sure by now you’ve seen what Hicks posted on Instagram and what he's claiming. None of it is true.”
Blowing a breath out, I continue, Dad still intently listening, waiting for me to finish before he says anything. “Hickswas drunk at Leslie’s party. He pulled me away and cornered me. I tried to get away, but I wasn’t able to, and he was starting to get aggressive. If Dean hadn’t shown up when he did…” My voice cracks, thinking of all the possible outcomes of that night. Dad stands and pulls me in for a hug, holding me tight, letting me get my emotions out.
“We will find a way to prove what happened,” he says, still holding me tight.
“I don’t know if it’s too late or not, they already suspended Dean from the next race.”
“It’s not too late, kiddo.” He pauses and it seems like something has clicked in his brain, like an actual lightbulb went off above him, as if he was a cartoon character. “Do you remember where Leslie’s RV was parked in that field?”
“Why would you need to know that?” It’s such a weird question, and I’m wracking my brain to try to remember where she was parked.
“Just humor me, Reg.”
“Umm, I think at the end of row C.”
“Perfect.” A smile crinkles the corners of his eyes. “I have some calls to make.”
Grabbing his laptop, he walks out of the kitchen and down the hall to his office. I’m not sure what he has up his sleeve; I just hope it’ll help both Dean and I.
FORTY-NINE
REGAN
The photo Ianposted last week has gone viral, and it’s the only thing anyone can talk about. It has been nonstop since arriving for qualifying and practice. Everything really hit the fan at the news that Dean was suspended for this race, and everyone has been asking me about it.
My responses have all beenno comment. Mainly so I don’t make things worse than they already are. There have been even more questions about what our relationship is now to one another. Are we still rivals? Are we friends? More than friends? I don’t know the answer to that myself. Dean and I haven’t discussed labels. I know I like him, and I don’t see him as my rival anymore. We just haven’t discussed what to call us.
Before opening ceremonies are due to start, Katarina finds me for another attempt to get information out of me. She is relentless with this.
“Regan, we all know about the photo posted and what Ian Hicks says happened that night.” I resist the urge to roll my eyes at her. “What actually happened for Ian to post that picture and to get Dean suspended?” She juts her microphone at me for a response.
“I’m not able to talk about it at this time. But I’m ready for today’s race,” I say in an attempt to change the subject.
“Was it over you? Is there a love triangle?” she asks. She just won’t fucking quit. My blood is beginning to boil with this line of questioning, so I take a breath to keep my cool.
“There’s no love triangle,” I say, keeping my smile plastered to my face. “If you have any questions about today’s race instead of my personal life, I’d be happy to answerthosequestions.”
“Okay…How do you feel Dean’s suspension will affect the race for the championship?” Shit, that’s a reasonable question.
“It sucks for him and his team, but I’m glad to have the advantage today.” Finally satisfied with my answer, she leaves to annoy someone else.
Ian strides up to me, his hair styled in its typical dickish way. Though it doesn’t hide the blue and green patches around his eye, and split lip from Dean punching him. My hackles rise as he comes closer.
