Page 5 of Battle Scars

A year later, my dad slept with a race groupie on the road. When he came home, he came clean to my mom, and she and I promptly moved out of Dad’s Coronado mansion. I had no idea why. I knew my mom was upset. I also knew my dad was sad. I just didn’t know why. It wasn’t until ten years later, when I read the news online on a tabloid website. I was so upset I jumped into my car, a brand-new Camaro my parents gifted me for my birthday, and drove to my dad’s house.

I confronted him, and he immediately admitted to the transgression with a sad look on his face. By then, he was married to wife number three. She came into the room to hear me railing at him for hurting my mom and breaking up what had been a happy home. When she realized what I was so upset about, she laughed at me and said, “Oh that old news? Who cares?”

I cared—that was who.

So I jumped in my car and drove home as tears only a teenage drama queen could produce streamed down my face. My mom met me on the front porch and pulled me inside. Dad had called her while I was driving home. She led me to the sofa and pulled me down into her arms where she quietly told me the truth of how my family imploded. She told me how my father regretted it immediately, because he was so in love with her. She told me how much she loved him and still did to that very day. And she told me that no matter what he said, what he did, she could still smell perfume on his skin and see her lipstick on his collar. Ultimately, she couldn’t move on. But most importantly, she said I had come from love and still did. But everything from that point on changed.

As a seventeen-year-old girl, I had googled myself often. After that, I no longer found fascination with the pastime.

Over the years, Bobby became more than a friend. He was my brother in every sense but blood. We’ve seen each other through difficult times, side by side, like best friends do. So the fact that Dad has thrown us all for a loop is mind-boggling. I can’t for the life of me come up with any rational explanation for why he would pit us against each other. He loves me, but he also loves Bobby, so it doesn’t make any sense.

I pull in another shaky breath and pop the drain on the tub. My bottle of wine is long gone, and the water has long since cooled. I towel off and pull on panties and a pair of drawstring pajama pants and a matching camisole. I leave the empty bottle and wine glass on the bathmat for tomorrow. I wash my face quickly, but only because I’d slathered on the copious amounts of makeup required for a press conference and photo op and sleeping in it always makes me feel awful. This still isn’t the double cleanse my skin deserves but I don’t have it in me to do more. After brushing my teeth, I climb into bed. Only, sleep doesn’t claim me.

“I’ve decided to retire.”

Images of today rotate through my brain like a slideshow of old vacation photos.

I never know what my dad is going to do next. He’s always been larger than life, as far back as I can remember, and it’s not a persona. It’s who he is down to his bones, so by the time I pulled into the circle driveway in front of his home, I had no idea why we’d been summoned.

My stiletto heels quietly click-clacked as I made my way up the stone steps and through the large oak front door.

“They’re all waiting in your father’s study,” Garrison, Dad’s righthand man, said when I walked into the great room.

“Thanks, Garrison.”

I made my way down the hall to the study, where my dad, his wife, and Bobby were all seated around the room.

“Hey, darlin’,” Dad greeted me, and I walked right into his arms with a genuine smile on my face just for him. Not long after I discovered why my family split up, I realized we were still a unit—Mom, Dad, and me. We may not have lived together, but they were my parents, and they loved me. They would always have my back. Since then, his wives and girlfriends have come and gone, but he’s always been my dad.

Butterflies flitted about through my belly as I walked out onto the patio of my dad’s home. We were all called there, because Dad had some huge announcement. I bet he bought another racing team. It wouldn’t have surprised me in the least if expanding DHR was his next big goal. He already held the record for most wins. What could’ve possibly been left?

We fanned out across the brick patio. The media was spread out on the lawn below us. Dad and Candy in the middle, Bobby and me flanking them on either side. Dad was dressed a lot like Bobby, in jeans and a T-shirt with his DHR jacket over it, but his wife looked like she could slide down a stripper pole at any moment, yet who was I to judge?

“I’m sure you’ve all wondered why I’ve called you here today,” Dad said. “Even my family is going to be surprised, because I’ve kept the news from them too.”

I let my winning smile spread across my face, because that was so my dad. He had such a huge personality and loved surprises; he always has. One year he bought me a horse for Christmas. My mom laughed until she cried.

Who knew what was about to come out of his mouth, but it would probably be just as over the top as the man himself.

“I’ve decided to retire.”

“What?” his wife gasped. I was about to say the same thing, but she beat me to the punch. “You can’t be serious.”

What would happen to the company without him? What would happen to Dark Horse?

“Serious as a heart attack, darlin’.”

I had to bite my tongue. My dad’s the nicest guy in the world, but no one, and I mean no one, second guesses his decisions where Dark Horse Racing is concerned. Dad is the top dog, and he always will be—or at least I thought so.

Now, I’m not so sure.

“When will you retire?” someone called out then.

“At the end of the season,” he replied.

“And what’s going to become of DHR?” Wasn’t that the million-dollar question?

“It’s going to continue to grow and thrive,” Dad answered. “Long after I’m gone, even when my grandchildren are running it, DHR will be top-tier.”