Page 2 of Battle Scars

“I think that’s great news, Candy,” I tell Dad’s current wife. I can’t think of her as my step-anything when she’s younger than I am by five years. She’s not a friend or a sister, but she’s also not my mom. We’re nothing more than relations of my dad’s.

“It could be a boy,” she says. “Don’t you think retiring now is a bit premature? You could have a real son to hand the company to in a few years.”

“I’m getting old, babe,” is all he murmurs, running a hand through his still dark hair that’s just a touch too long. He’s fifty-three, but he’s not old. My dad is in excellent shape and is still at the top of his game, so his earlier announcement about retiring was shocking, to say the least.

“So we run the company until he’s of age,” she suggests tugging me from my internal thoughts about how old my dad is and how old his wife is not.

Now that’s a little offensive, considering Dad’s big dog and pony show of a press conference we were all at his house for. But like I said before, she and I have never been close.

“I’m sure Adrienne or Bobby or both of them will find a place for this kid at DHR if that’s where they want to be when they grow old enough,” Dad says, and for the first time in my entire life, he sounds… tired.

“You’re not even listening!” she screams. The shrill tone has both Bobby and I both wincing. “You’re sacrificing the legacy of what could be your only son, because you think you’re getting old?”

“I’m tired, Candy. Just let it go,” he says.

“No. I’m not going to fucking let it go until you march back out there and tell them our good news and that you’ve changed your mind,” she argues. “Tell them you didn’t know we were expecting, but now you realize and you’ll wait to give your legacy to your son.”

“I have a twenty-eight-year-old daughter who’s more than capable, babe,” he says quietly. His soft-spoken praise for me warms my heart but also has the hair on the back of my neck rising. “In this day and age, women can do anything the boys can do.”

“What does she even do besides ride on Daddy’s coattails and spend his money?” she snipes.

“Adrienne works hard, trains hard, and races hard,” Dad replies through gritted teeth. “Which is more than I can say for you. Trust me, Candy, you don’t want to push me on this.”

“You can’t mean that,” she gasps.

“Woman, when have you known me to prevaricate? I mean everything I say.”

“So you’d toss your pregnant wife out into the cold?” she asks. “Just like that?”

“You, me, and the iron-clad prenup all know you wouldn’t leave penniless,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Don’t push me.”

This is like watching a pileup on the interstate, slowly creeping by to see what kind of wreckage is left behind. And if Candy pushes Dad too far, there is going to be wreckage, the kind that adds her name to the long list of record-holding race car driver Adrian Malone’s ex-wives.

The only one to make out like a bandit was my mom, because he loved her so much. She didn’t want to take anything with her, and she never played games, never used me like a pawn in their divorce. It wasn’t even messy. It was heartbreaking. Because everyone knew Adrian loved his wife, Abigail—even the women he slept with on the road. No one expects athletes, rock stars, and race car drivers to be faithful spouses, but there was something different about them. When he came home and admitted what happened, she was just done. She couldn’t trust him again.

Mom moved us to another house, and I spent every other weekend with my dad. When I was old enough, I began racing, and she never begrudged me. Mom knew oil ran through my veins, and she knows it now.

I look at Bobby, who seems to be just as uncomfortable watching this drama unfold as I am. I give him a wide-eyed look I hope conveys the we-need-to-get-out-of-here message, but he just shrugs in a so-what-can-you-do kind of way. I guess it’s going to be up to me.

“I, uh… I think I should probably go,” I stammer.

“You don’t have to leave,” Dad says. “This will always be your home.”

“I’ll call you later, Dad,” I reply, wrapping my arms around him in a hug.

When I turn to leave, Candy sneers in my ear, “Crown Jewel, my ass. I have no idea what your father sees in you.”

Bobby follows behind me, guiding me with his hand at the small of my back through the mansion and down to the front steps to where our cars are parked in the circle driveway. The press has been gone for over an hour, and I’m left feeling a little bit foggy. What just happened here?

“It’ll all work out,” he says as I beep the locks on my Dodge Challenger.

“Yeah.” I wish I sounded as confident as he does right now. I knew my dad wouldn’t race forever, but I didn’t think he’d be done so soon. I thought we had more time sharing a banner, much more time.

“You just wait and see.” Bobby pulls me in for a hug that lasts just a little too long and then lets me go.

I nod and climb in the Hellcat and listen to her growl when the engine turns over. I watch him in my rearview mirror as I pull out of the big circle drive, and as soon as he fades from view, I let out a relieved sigh.

Today was too much. Much too much.