Spoiler – A metal blade attached to the rear deck lid of the car. It helps restrict airflow over the rear of the car, providing down force and traction.

 

I believed our bodies were like the engines we ran. We were pressurized systems, except we had blood, instead of oil, pumping through our veins. Just like an engine, there had to be a safe way for us to relieve the pressure built up before it found its own way out. This was essential, because when an engine exploded, usually the connecting rod went through the engine block, producing a lot of smoke and steam, and the results were catastrophic, not to mention expensive.

Throughout my racing career, pressure was continually building until I eventually reached my breaking point. What I needed was a way to relieve this pressure before I exploded and released my own smoke and steam, like I did the time I was racing USAC, and Sway left for college.

While sitting inside my motor coach alone, I took a look at the NASCAR website, even when I knew I shouldn’t. Lately, all the articles focused on how out of control I was. They weren’t entirely wrong, but some upset me more than others because of the way they were written—portraying me like I was a childish rookie who let his violet temper tantrums control him.

The headlines would all read the same:

 

THE RISE AND FALL OF GREATNESS

A STORM BREWING IN BLACK AND RED

WHERE’S TORRES? ASK ROWDY RILEY

 

Reading through the lies and miscommunication between myself and the media, I couldn’t help but smile despite my rage. When I came across the one that read:

 

QUELL ON EDGE OF DESPERATION

 

I tossed my laptop across my motor coach. It didn’t make me feel any better. It just meant I needed to buy another, my third this month alone. I couldn’t believe the lies written and the believing ears waiting to read it.

I made my point known, too. Every report out there wanted to question me on Darrin and where he was. Guess what, I ignored them. That’s when the lies appeared. But the thing was, NASCAR made it that way. I couldn’t speak my mind for the simple fact that they would fine me.

It was no secret that NASCAR controlled our interactions with the media. When we were at the track, it was their stomping grounds. We needed to behave in a manner they felt appropriate. If they deemed your language during an interview as inappropriate, they “fined” you. Let’s just say I had a lot deeming going on these days. In turn, I declined interviews with just about everyone. By doing that, I had my sponsors deeming me, too.

They would say things like, “Jameson, we respect your aggression you show out there and the way you can make the car come to you. Even though you’re not on the track, you’re still representing us. Your fans, your sponsors, your team, all depend on you. If you can’t represent us in the manner we wish, we have a problem.”

It was suddenly like no one understood me anymore or why I felt this way. More importantly, it felt like no one knew me.

Even my family who supposedly knew me better than anyone else.

 “Jameson, you need to snap out of this shit!” Alley screamed in my face before the Dover race, her calico hair falling into her eyes as she brushed it back behind her ear, her face flushed with anger. “If I have to make another public statement as to why you accosted another NASCAR official, I’m going to kick your fucking ass!”

I knew the strain my recent argument with NASCAR was putting on my team but I snapped, once again. I slammed my fist down on the table inside the hauler, the water bottle that was balancing precariously on the edge fell to the floor.

“What the fuck do you want me to do?” I growled back, pulling at my hair, my head rested against the table.

Most race car drivers feared the unknown and we feared ourselves and what we could do to ourselves. It was almost like there was a shadow of fear following us around. It was fear, it was doubt, it was anxiety, it was everything, all the time. But, the thing was, we couldn’t let on we had this fear. If we did, people would see a side of us we weren’t willing to let them see.

Instead, we hoped that by winning more races they wouldn’t see that fear, doubt, and anxiety. But, still, it remained there for us almost like a shadow.

Some say you couldn’t outrun a shadow. So how did you leave it behind? How did you leave behind fear and move forward?

Alley looked down at me, her face relaxing.

“I don’t know... just... you’re being fined again.” She threw the paperwork at me. “You cannot throw your helmet at an official and not get fined. You can’t flip an official off, and you sure as shit can’t try to run one over with your car.” Her eyebrow arched. “I know damn well your foot didn’t slip off the brake.”

“Whatever,” I mumbled.

“Don’t whatever me,” she protested, punching my shoulder. “You need to take this seriously.”

“Don’t touch me, Alley!” I stormed out of the hauler before I said something I’d regret, or destroyed something. The metal door slammed behind me. I was tired of everyone telling me what I needed to do or how I should feel about all this.

“Jameson?” I heard someone call from behind.

I glanced over my shoulder but kept walking and noticed Tate trying to catch up with me. “Jameson, hold up a minute.” He took a few large strides before he was beside me.

I drew in a deep breath, ran my hand through my hair, and turned to him.

“What’s up, man?” I was trying to act patient, but I’m pretty sure I wasn’t, considering I wasn’t even looking him in the eye. My attention was focused on my phone, checking my messages.

“You want to grab some dinner?” he asked, keeping pace with me.

“I need to go call Sway,” I told him, my voice full of forlornness. “But after that we can.”

“Sounds good... call me when you’re done.”

When I entered the motor coach, Spencer and Aiden were in there playing Xbox. One look from me and they were making up excuses as to why they needed to leave, which was fine by me.

I changed out of my race suit and then sat down on the couch.

I knew I was fucking up. I knew I needed to snap out of this bullshit, but I honestly had no clue how.

My thumb hovered over Sway’s number but, before I called, I needed to get my shit together. She didn’t need to speak with the out of control, reckless man I’d become these past few days. She needed the man she fell in love with.

I could see the sun on the horizon, dark to light, but nothing changed, though. For me, I remained rooted in the shadows of the aftermath, trying to make my way through rubble.

I pressed send and waited for Sway to answer. Her voice was soft and tranquil when she answered. “Hey, handsome,”

“Hey, yourself, beautiful.” I smiled to myself that just the tone of her voice could relax me. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m good. Feeling better every day,” she told me. “How was practice?” Her voice had a certain joviality that made me smile.

“Thanks for the sixty-three voicemails last night. I had no idea my phone could hold that many.”

“Now you know. Tommy was behind some of them. By the way, that shit head managed to get himself kicked out of here!”

“How the hell did he manage that?”

“Who knows? How was the race?”

She knew I was stalling.

“It was okay... I got fined, though.” I knew once Jimi heard about another fine, I would be in hot water once again, not to mention with Simplex.

“Why?”

“I kind of threw my helmet at an official when he black flagged me during practice.”

“Jameson!” Sway growled. “You need to knock that shit off.”

“It doesn’t fucking matter anyway,” I mumbled inertly.

“Why not?”

“It just doesn’t.” I began fumbling with the hem of my shirt. “The season has already gone to shit. I want it to be over with.”

“Jameson Anthony Riley, you need to stop this, and pull yourself together!”

“How?” I shouted back, instantly regretting the tone of my voice.

“Okay ...” Sway paused for a long moment, and I knew she was pissed. “I will put up with a lot of shit from you Jameson, but I will not sit back and watch you throw your career away because of that douche bag. I’ve been by your side, watching, waiting, and supporting you through it all. So for you to give up now, what does that say about us? What does that say to our son?” Sway’s rant stopped briefly as she sighed. “I can’t watch you do this... I won’t sit back and watch you do this to yourself. I get it... I really do. I feel the pain, as well. I know how this has left its mark on us, but I can’t let it destroy me. We can’t let it destroy us. If we do... if we let it destroy us, he’s won. They’ve won.”

The line was silent aside from the static from the cell phone reception, only our labored breathing filled the air.

I wasn’t entirely sure what to say. Sway had never gone off on a diatribe like that before, with me anyway. And, the worst part, I couldn’t blame her for doing it.

“I... uh—”

“Unless you are going to tell me that you’re sorry and that you’ll go out there and be the man I agreed to marry, save your bullshit for someone else.”

I crumbled fast.

“I’m sorry ...” My voice broke. “I really am, honey... I’m lost. I don’t know how to be that man for you right now. I just don’t know.” I drew in a shaky breath. “All I see is that video on an endless loop. I look at you and see the images... and I can’t make it stop. I want to, but—”

“I know, Jameson. I really do understand, but what I’m saying is that I fell in love with the arrogant, dirty heathen who knew what he wanted out of life. He knew exactly what his dreams were and was determined as hell to achieve them, no matter what. I fell in love with the strong-minded, eleven-year-old who thought he was the shit compared to men three times his age and, you know what? He was. You are.” Sway let out another sigh. “I want that man. That’s the man I agreed to spend the rest of my life with—the man who stood his ground when everyone said he couldn’t make it out east when he was eighteen. The man who showed the world that an eighteen-year-old kid could go to a track he’d never raced at before and break the track record first time out. I want him.”

“That’s still me, Sway,” I told her, defeated. “I’m still that man.”

“No, right now you’re not. I see that man, but I also see him slipping away. Champions aren’t made, Jameson. They’re born. You were born to do this.”

Shadows of fear could be suffocating if you let them. At some point, you’d get tired of running from it. At some point, you’d have to turn on the light and see first-hand what you never wanted to.

“We can’t waste our time trying to get back what he took from us. We’ll miss out on what’s right in front of us,” she said softly before she hung up.

As always, she knew exactly what to say. She was right. We had a chance here to overcome this and stop running from the looming shadows.

 

I will say that being away from Sway gave me time to calm down and think. I wasn’t reminded every second of the goddamn day of what Darrin did to her by staring at the bruises that still lingered. But I still thought of them, I was still reminded every second of the goddamn day that they were there because those images had been seared into my brain.

I tried to keep focused, but it was a constant battle within me.

“I’ll get the smoked chicken and a Jack ‘n’ coke.” I handed the menu back to the waitress over my shoulder.

“I’ll have the same, please.” Tate smiled politely at the waitress.

Tate and I were having dinner together the night before the Dover race. It’d been a long time since we’d actually done anything together, and it was nice.

From the time I graduated high school, and decided to pursue this dream, it seemed like my free time wasn’t really my free time. Sure, I had days off, but lately those days off were spent with Sway—which I would never complain about, but I never had time for my other friends. I rarely saw Tommy, Justin, or Tyler. It’d been a while since I saw Ryder and Cody.

Bobby and Tate were becoming good friends but still, outside of the track, we rarely got to spend time being normal people and not professional race car drivers with time constraints limiting our personal lives.

There came a point in your career as a race car driver that your life was no longer your life and your friends, well, they were there, but they never got the attention they deserved. They get what was left over after the lifestyle took nearly everything you had. It really could destroy you if you let it.

“I hear you threw your helmet at old Huey.”

“That fucker deserved it. He black-flagged me in practice,” I clipped with a sour edge. “Practice. Who does that shit?”

“Uh.” His eyebrows rose. “I was out there with you,” he said sardonically. “You were driving like an asshole. Do you realize you pushed me into Paul like five fucking times.” He shook his head with a laugh. “You’re such a shit sometimes.”

“Sorry.”

He hesitated for a brief second before speaking, “I heard Kyle punched Gordon. I would have liked to have witnessed that.”

“You and me both. He showed me the video surveillance.”

“I heard... that’s why I would have liked to have seen Kyle give the asshole what he deserved.”

I stared back at him with a tortured expression, reliving the images once again. “Yeah.”

“You know... I shouldn’t have brought that up. I’m sorry.” His probing eyes examined me.

“No.” I waved him off. “It’s fine. I don’t know what would have possessed him to show me.”

He laughed one hard laugh. “He was always on his side. Gordon thought Darrin was the best driver out there and what the sport needed. Then you came along.”

Conversation drifted as the commotion around us picked up as a few fans stopped by for autographs and pictures.

“How’s Sway feeling?” Tate asked once the waitress brought our drinks out, the fans leaving us to our meals.

“She seems good.” I took a slow drink, feeling the burn of the alcohol. “She yelled at me.”

Tate laughed. “Been there before. The woman rules.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I smiled ruefully at him, hoping he didn’t see the sadness I felt. “They definitely have a way.”

He once again examined my face for a moment and then nodded with a genial smile, seeming to notice my inner battle. “Anything you want to talk about there, kid?”

I inhaled a deep breath, running my hand over my jaw. Leaning back in my chair I thought once again about what Sway told me. “She thinks I’m letting go of what I want.”

“She’s right, you are.” Tate shifted forward, his elbows resting against the table, his hand scraped along the rough stubble of his jaw. “When I first met you, I thought to myself... there’s a kid who’s either going to be a champion or kill himself trying. I’ve never seen another driver with your determination, your desire to be the best. That, combined with the raw talent you possess... you’re inexorable on the track, you dominate,” he told me with a shake of his head. “I’ve been racing since I was a kid, just like you. But I’ll never compare to the talent you have behind the wheel. No one on the series can.” He smiled before speaking again. “Do you know why I raced you the way I did in Richmond?”

“Because that’s how we race.” I shrugged. “All or nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s partially right, but I knew that if you were to get inside the top five in points, we didn’t stand a chance at winning a repeat championship.”

I smiled half-heartedly, taking another drink, but didn’t answer.

“Sway’s just looking out for you, Jameson. She knows you, and she knows what you can do.” His expression changed, tensed. “I was in my fourth year of the Cup Series when Darrin was a rookie. I hated him from the beginning. I mean, if I thought you were cocky, he was ten times worse, but he didn’t have any reason to be. There are plenty of other drivers out there he could have targeted rather than you and Kasey. But he did that because you two were competition for him, you more so than Kasey. I don’t blame you for going after him ...” He shook his head. “I would have done the same thing.” Tate smiled, holding his drink up. “Here’s to him never coming back.”

“I’ll drink to that,” I said with a wicked smile. Even with unspoken words, most around the garage figured Darrin’s abrupt disappearance had something to do with me but, then again, they never questioned it as I would have never questioned any of them in my shoes. It was just an unspoken code of conduct between us.

It was silent for a few moments as the waitress delivered the food and brought out new drinks.

Tate was one of the main reasons I got this chance to live this dream, and I knew blowing it was also letting him down. As much as it hurt to hear Sway tell me how I was acting, it hurt worse actually seeing it in Tate’s eyes.

 I saw it with Sway, but Tate gave me this chance with Simplex. If I walked away from it all, that would be like a slap in his face.

“Keep your head on, kid, I mean that.” He leaned forward, taking another sip of his drink before running his fingertips over the condensation forming around the glass. With his eyes still focused on the glass, he began to speak, “Be the kid I witnessed come out to the Chili Bowl at nineteen competing against men who’d been racing twice as long as he had. Be the kid who broke the track record that same week because the other drivers wouldn’t take him seriously.” Tate tipped his head in my direction. “And, to this day, three years later, still holds the track record for the fastest lap ever made at Chili Bowl Nationals, and your first lap ever made there. Jameson, that right there should tell you what kind of talent you possess.” His body relaxed in his chair, crossing his leg over his left knee. “I shouldn’t say that to you, because I know damn well if you can pull yourself together and get that drive, that determination in you back, I don’t stand a chance for a repeat championship.”

I snorted; the corners of my mouth twitched into a smile.

“Thanks... for everything, Tate,” I said with conviction. “It’s nice to have a friend like you.”

“Thank me when you win the championship.” He sounded utterly convinced I could do it. “You could give me the trophy, you know.”

“Ah, well, I don’t really care about the trophy, so yeah, you can have it.”

He laughed. “You’ll change your mind when you’re holdin’ it.”

The last words he said to me that night were probably the most memorable.

“There is a lesson in everything we do. It’s about seeing past the speed and looking for an opening you didn’t see before.”

I wasn’t sure if he was talking about racing or life, but decided it didn’t matter; it applied to both.

Sometimes I felt like the past was something you just couldn’t let go of, but I also felt like sometimes the past was something we would do anything to forget.

I didn’t think we should ever forget our past completely because it taught us what not to do or what not to repeat. But you needed to move forward with the future—move forward with your dreams and use it as a lesson.

I needed to be that man for Sway. I needed to be that man for my son. I needed to let go of the past. Yeah, Darrin got a piece of me, but he didn’t get the whole thing, and no one ever would. I could do that. At least I thought I could after a few drinks.

The only dream I could ever remember wanting was to be a race car driver. Some kids changed their minds as they grew older; I never did. I saw the passion my dad had for the sport, and I knew I wanted that, too. I also remembered the sacrifices he made to do so. He wasn’t home on our birthdays, Father’s Day, Mother’s Day; and, right after Christmas, he was usually gone again. If we wanted to see him, we traveled with him. Even with all that, he taught me one important trait: determination.

My dad had been racing in the World of Outlaws for twenty-four years, winning fourteen championships and was well on his way to his fifteenth. He’d won five hundred and forty-three races. In my eyes, he was greatness. He was a legend. I wanted my son to be able to look at me with the same idolatry I did to Jimi. I wanted him to look at me and see greatness, someone he could admire. I didn’t want him to see the man I’d become these last few weeks. Even I hardly recognized the man I’d become.

 

After Sway told me the way it would be, and Tate made me feel like a complete failure, I did some thinking that night before the Dover race. Alone in my motor coach was something I needed.

Cal stopped by for a minute to see if I needed anything before he headed back to the hotel. “Any requests for tomorrow?” He did all the cooking on the road these days.

“Same as always: orange juice, egg whites, and bacon.”

He smiled near the door, one foot out and one foot in. “You all right, kid?”

I smiled despite my shitty attitude. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well,” he seemed to contemplate staying before he finally said, “see you tomorrow.”

I had some serious decisions to make and that started and ended with me. I couldn’t be that kid who broke down when his rock left him for college. Resorting to drinking and combining pain pills wasn’t an option for me now. I had to face reality.

As Grandpa Casten would say, eventually you have to get off the bench and decide which team you’re batting for—self-pity or self-resilience?

“You ready for this, Riley?” Bobby asked, taking in my appearance that morning after the team meeting. We stood on pit road, waiting for the National Anthem to begin, and then the race.

Leaning against the side of my car, I smiled as Tate and Paul Leighty, his teammate, approached me.

Bobby’s head tipped sideways. “Hmm.” A grin appeared. “... I’ve seen that smile before... Rowdy Riley’s back, huh?”

I offered another smile, pulling my hat down to shadow my face.

“Good luck, boys.” Patting Tate and Bobby on the back, I stepped past them. I was batting for self-resilience.

When I thought about how out of control I had become these last few weeks, I realized I was some kind of wild animal. I also tended to think there was an animal instinct in everyone, whether you wanted to admit it or not. You want to think of yourself as controlled and rational, but when your world fell apart, it was apparent that we were really no different from animals.

We felt caged, we ran. We felt danger, we ran. We wanted comfort, and we wanted to feel safe.

What really set us apart from animals was our ability to adapt and evolve to situations. A grizzly bear wasn’t going to say suddenly, “Hey, I think I’ll not attack this human.”

That bear ran on instinct and always would when it felt threatened.

Sure, we, as in myself, might react when faced with danger, but we also had the ability to say we were sorry, something an animal couldn’t do. And though I wouldn’t blame them, thankfully, no one was going to shoot me with a tranquilizer for acting this way. That grizzly, well, he probably didn’t fare as well.

But I had an opportunity, a chance to beg for forgiveness and show others I was worth it, even with my animal instincts.

I poured my begging for forgiveness into my natural ability—the only way I knew how to show them just how much I appreciated them not giving up on me. I won the race.

As I pulled into victory lane, I was only thinking of Sway. I wanted her here with me to share this, to experience this, and see how much I appreciated her. So much of my success and my determination came from her. It was because of her that I wanted to be a better man and forget those animal instincts, communication issues, and deadly sins. Determination and desire could take you a long way if you wanted it badly enough.

Combine those two traits, determination and desire, and you could be a relentless, unstoppable son of a bitch. That was me. Nothing was holding me back now. I was on a mission—a mission to forget those animal instincts to run when faced with fear. I respected one important instinct I had—determination when my prey was in sight. I had my prey in sight. A championship.

Sway was right, champions weren’t made; they were born. It took ambition, determination, and sacrifice. A lot of sacrifice. But after all the blown engines, DNFs, brushes with concrete, late nights, early rises, and time away from my family was washed away by the champagne and beer spraying me in the face, something changed. I realized that dream I dreamt about as a four-year-old kid sitting in my dad’s sprint car was within reach, and this was worth it.

As my team hollered and screamed around me, I looked up into the sky, and for the first time in years, I prayed. With my body drenched in sweat, I rested my head against the roof of my car and gave in.

I prayed that it would be okay. I prayed I’d find the strength to be the man I needed to be for my family and, most of all, I prayed for having the opportunity to do so. Not many people got the chance to follow their dreams, but here I was, living mine.

Through all this, Sway would have never asked me to quit, for the simple fact that she knew I would for her, and I was thankful she didn’t.

Just like that animal that saw his prey in sight, I wouldn’t give up, and she knew it.

 

After Dover, the seconds were turning into minutes as the minutes turned into hours. Days turned to nights as the nights turned to weeks. All time seemed to be blurring together.

Half the time I didn’t know what track I was at... just that I wasn’t where I really wanted to be. But I also knew I needed this. I needed to prove myself. I needed to know those sacrifices were worth it. So, in turn, I was relentless and wouldn’t stand for anyone getting in my way. That flavor that swirled in my mouth at the beginning of this was now consuming my entire body. It pulsed through my veins, begging for the pressure release, bubbling to the surface, and I was left with the burning desire.

Every night I sat in my motor coach or another hotel room wishing I had time to see Sway, but with the season winding down, time wasn’t possible. And every night the news reports painted the picture of what I was becoming. Only now, the headlines read:

 

THE FIRE WITHIN WILL RISE AGAIN

Charlotte, NC – Brad Hayes

He lives on pure instinct, just like his racing. He’s strong and lithe, always anticipating their next move.

Tragedy attempted to end his chances at the series title, but this dominant, beleaguered rookie, Rowdy Riley, has his own unrefined fight brewing.

 

For some reason, and I’m sure you could understand why, those were easier to stomach than the shit they wrote about Darrin and me. It wasn’t like they still didn’t question the disappearance, but they didn’t as often. It may have had something to do with the fact that I never replied.

Before Martinsville, I checked on how the road trip was going, fearing Sway would have killed one of them by now, and by one of them, I meant my sister. I didn’t want my pregnant, soon-to-be-wife going to jail for murder.

“Hey, Van, how’s the trip going?” I waited in the hauler for Spencer to return so we could fly out to Martinsville. I had a shitload of press to do there so we had to leave straight from California to Virginia. Lately, to get seat time, I’d been racing triple headers.

“Now that Ms. Sway and I drugged Emma with Nyquil, it’s a more peaceful trip.”

I laughed, putting my shoes on and balancing the phone on my shoulder as I tied them.

“How’s Sway doing?” Sway and I spoke often and many times throughout the day, not to mention we’d been texting like high school girls in the back of biology class, but I wanted to know Van’s thoughts; I knew how observant he was.

“I assure you she’s fine, Jameson,” Van told me with a laugh. “You know I take her safety seriously, right?”

I sunk into the couch, contemplating what he said.

“I do, Van,” I replied. “I think you, in particular, can understand how much she means to me and how imperative it is to me that she’s kept safe.”

“I do,” he assured me. There was a pause before he added, “We should be in Elma by Wednesday as planned if we can keep Emma under control.”

“Good luck with that.” I laughed freely. “And people wonder why I tried to auction her off at the zoo when she was five.”

“Hell, man, I would have done it a lot sooner than that.”

As my luck would have it, I got caught up in appearances and press interviews so I had to postpone my trip to Elma to see Sway, which had me one grumpy bastard by the time I actually made it to Martinsville. Not only had I missed her being released from the hospital, but now I wouldn’t get to see her for another few weeks. Grumpy bastard might actually be an understatement.

Each week, I couldn’t flee the hounding media and fans who hovered over every turn, waiting to take those last remaining pieces.

“Jameson! Look this way!”

“Jameson! Do you have a second?”

“Jameson! Can you sign this?”

“Jameson! Can I get a picture with you?”

“Jameson! Do you think you have a chance at the championship?”

“Jameson! How’s Sway doing?”

Those were the constant, enthusiastic questions surrounding me. But what they didn’t realize was, instead of taking the remaining pieces, they were being glued together again with the fact that this was almost the end. That’s what I tried to tell myself, at least.

With the late afternoon sun blinding, I was leaning against this side of my hauler as a throng of fans encircled me. I remained silent and smiled for the pictures they were taking. There was screaming and flashing all around—it was hard to even sign my name with all the distractions. But I remained focused as the end was near.

I continued to stand there, my hand cramping every so often and sweat pouring out of me. I hadn’t even had a chance to change since the race, and the Virginia sun was roasting.

Where Alley was to contain this was what I wanted to know.

Apparently, she’d had enough of my shit. When she caught a glimpse of what was happening out here, she merely smiled and walked inside the hauler with Lane, leaving me to deal with this myself.

Publicist, my ass.

“Thanks a lot, Alley!” I yelled after her.

My dad was here that weekend, which made everyone a little edgier but, more importantly, he was breathing down my neck at this moment looking for an answer.

I could feel his piercing eyes watching me, as a few fans realized who he was and asked for his autograph. He leaned against the hauler beside me. Reaching for another poster to sign, my stare flickered to his.

“What are you doing?”

“Oh, just heading to the NASCAR hauler.” His lips pursed as his eyes narrowed, but he remained somewhat amused.

“What, so you got lost on the way?”

He chuckled, shaking his head, not appearing to be offended by my sarcasm.

“Another fine, Jameson?” A smile flickered across his tense face when I didn’t answer and simply offered a shrug. “Just... I don’t even know what to say about this one. You’re out of control—you know that, right?”

“Add it to the long list of my wholesome qualities,” I replied, not looking up. I heard a few fans chuckle at our trifling argument.

“You’re a shitty listener, too. Add that to your wholesome list!” he yelled over his shoulder, walking toward the NASCAR hauler to argue my most recent penalty for threatening a NASCAR official, saying I would shove his black flag up his ass if he waived it at me again.

I was completely serious, and I think the official knew that.

After about an hour of this, Alley finally came out. Phillip was waiting for me. I signed two more autographs and made my way inside, fans screaming for me to come back. Dipping my head, I waved to them.

Phillip was typing away on his Blackberry when I took a seat across from him at the table. Drawing in a shaky breath, I ran my fingers once through my hair. I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear all this, but I also knew, at some point, I needed to hear it.

He got straight to business when he finished checking his email. “All right, Jameson, the arraignment is scheduled for next Thursday, would you like to attend?” His eyebrows arched in question as he looked up at me.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” I asked pessimistically.

“Good point. Jimi will come with me,” he answered, shaking his head. I knew damn well if I ever saw Chelsea or Mariah again, I’d be asking Van for pointers on how to dispose of the bodies. Regardless if they were remorseful of what they did, I would still fucking kill them. No one got away with threatening my family and nearly killing them.

“They are both being charged with complicity, also known as aiding and abetting. An accomplice is someone who helps in, or in some states merely encourages, the commission of a crime. Courts will sometimes refer to a person as the aider or an abettor.” Phillip’s eyes flickered to me as he read over the documents placed in front of him. “This is where Mariah, Chelsea, and Gordon come in to play. Dana was released because, frankly, after speaking to her, I’m surprised that girl even knows her own name sometimes. Anyway, an aider or abettor is a person who did not commit the crime, but his or her actions helped enable someone else to do so. Examples could be supplying weapons or supplies or, in Mariah’s case, acting as a lookout. Or in Gordon’s case, signaling the victim’s approach.” His eyes, once again, shot to mine, knowing my reaction.

I felt the blood leave my face. I was standing instantly, adrenaline taking over. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Jameson, sit down,” Phillip ordered, his voice low, bleak, and demanding. “Now is not the time for you to act foolish. You’re lucky you’re not being charged for murder right now... so, if I were you, I would sit down and keep my mouth shut.”

“There’s no proof that I actually did that.”

“Yes, I know. But if it wasn’t for Van, you would be in a heap of shit right now.”

After a few moments, I regained my composure that I’d lost and sat back down.

“Now Chelsea, she merely encouraged the crimes. Accomplice liability means anyone who helps in the commission of a crime is as guilty as the person who committed the crime and can be punished as severely, if convicted.”

I struggled with the words to speak for a moment, feeling the pain once again. “So they’ll be punished for what they did?” Instantly, the images from her attack flashed through my mind.

“Yes,” he answered, his expression hard to read. “There are a number of witnesses who will attest to everything so it’s fairly cut and dry. They also admitted to everything—including Gordon. There have also been a few crew members suspended, too, for their involvement in Pocono and previous races where they have been linked to malfunctions with your car.”

“Say what?”

He gave me that look again. The one that said knock it off.

“Why did Gordon get involved? He was a fucking NASCAR... Jesus ...”

“I’m not entirely sure, but taking a guess, I’d say it was because Darrin is his nephew.”

“So somehow he signaled Darrin that Sway was heading to the restroom? This is so fucked up.”

Phillip shook his head, knowing damn well what I was doing right now. Clever bastard.

“Jameson, this isn’t important and will not change anything.”

I nodded, understanding for once. He was right. I couldn’t change it.

“Listen, I know that all this has been hard on you and more than any twenty-three-year-old kid needs to be dealing with but, please, let me do my job and stay out of it. Don’t talk to the media, and don’t make matters worse. You’re in the public’s eyes right now, every move you make, they’re watching, waiting for you to ruin your career or say something stupid.” He stood, closing his brief case and straightening his tailored Armani jacket. “Don’t let them succeed. Just keep your mouth shut, your head clear, and race.”

 

It’d been nineteen days since I saw Sway. Nineteen miserable days. But, thankfully, before the last three races of the season, I was able to see her.

When I finally arrived in Elma it was around two in the morning, and I was so exhausted I could barely keep my eyes open.

As I walked into Sway’s room, I tripped over Emma sleeping on the floor. I simply rolled her outside the door, into the hallway, and closed Sway’s door—locking it.

Once I had my clothes off, I moved to snuggle with her, enjoying the warmth of her body, the feel of her smooth porcelain skin against mine. I buried my face in her long, dark hair, breathing in a deep breath of her freesia shampoo. As I let out the breath, I realized that all this time away I felt as if the other half of my heart, my soul, was right here with her. I felt that to breathe, really breathe, I needed her for that. I was operating on half myself in every way when I was away from her.

I must have woken her because she pushed back against me. “Emma, Jesus Christ... stop.” She slapped at me. “Leave me alone, you monkey.”

I chuckled against her, pushing my two-week scruff into her neck and my hips against her ass, hoping she’d realize I was far from being Emma.

My naughty girl didn’t disappoint and wrapped her arms around me. I was relieved to see that her cast was finally off.

Though I was exhausted, being close to her was raising my compression ratios. It’d been way too fucking long.

“You’re home,” she breathed.

“Mmm.” I smiled against her lips as she kissed me.

Her fingers ran over my jaw. “I like the scruff.”

“Mmhmm.” I kissed her again.

“I missed you.”

“Not as much as I missed you, honey.” My tongue slipped softly between her lips, plunging into her warm mouth. Sway met my passion, showing me how much she missed me as well. Her fingertips gripped my shoulders, drawing me closer.

My mind was reeling; it’d been a long time since we’d been this close. She caressed my face and looked at me. When she traced the curve of my lips, I smiled.

“You’re really here?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m really here.” I kissed her passionately pouring how much I missed her into it. I knew we needed to be careful but I also needed this so badly that I could hardly understand it myself. I pulled back to run my fingers over her cheek.

Her hair fanned out over the pillow beneath her head, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes closed. She pulled me closer, my skin felt right against hers as if it found its other half, as well. I felt her shiver beside me, and I knew she could feel my erection digging into her leg.

“You did miss me, didn’t you?” she whispered.

I smiled and gave her a wink, watching her face glow in the pale moonlight.

As gently as I could, I covered her body with my own, holding as much of my weight on my elbows as possible.

“Jameson,” she moaned, spurring me on. Her back arched into my chest, and I moved down her neck, over her collarbone, and down between her breasts—gently removing her tank top. Eventually, I made my way to her nipple, sucking it in at a dawdling pace, causing her to whimper in annoyance at my languid loitering. I had no intentions of hurrying through this, but Sway did, her quick and nimble motions, pushing, pulling, grabbing, yanking... anything she could do to get me to move faster against her body but I wasn’t having it. I wanted to take my time with her. Sure, I was just as sexually frustrated as her. It’d been three weeks since I’d seen her and even longer than that since we’d been alone, intimately.

Gently, I grasped her wrist when her hand wrapped around me, her other hand knotting in my hair.

“Oh, God... honey... I ...” My hips automatically twitched forward, wanting this, needing this.

I wanted something, anything, but I was scared shitless. We hadn’t so much as made out like horny teenagers, but we needed more. I needed more after the long separation. So really, saying I was sexually frustrated was a huge fucking understatement. If my jeans even rubbed against me lately—I had to adjust myself.

“Jameson, please. I need you... in some way... I need you. I can’t explain it, I just do.” She sobbed, breaking down my entire resolve. I made her cry, again.

My denial vanished when her hand gripped me tighter, pushing my underwear down. I was pressed in between her legs, still hovering over her.

My lips were now at her ear. “We need to be careful,” I warned and then kissed the spot directly below her ear.

Really, I wanted to bend her over this bed and have my way with her... fuck being careful! I needed release.

“We will... just, please, I need this,” she panted against my shoulder.

Removing my left hand from her cheek, I dragged it slowly down her body until I reached her center. After pulling her panties down, I softly began caressing her. My body was burning, I was panting into her neck, harshly, to the point of almost embarrassment, but she wasn’t doing any better, thrashing around under my touch, and within minutes, she was trembling and screaming my name which, of course, left me one proud son of a bitch.

Completely rigid and tense, she stroked me with her spastic motions, her breathing slowly returning to normal.

When she opened her eyes, she smirked at me. “I need you to—”

“No,” I objected. “We can’t. You have to wait until ...” Her fingers against my lips silenced me.

“That’s not what I mean. I need you to come.”

I wasn’t sure exactly what she was talking about, but my need for this was as strong as her want, if that made any sense at all. So I simply laid back against the pillows and let her show me what she meant.

The feeling of her lips, the way she swirled her tongue in a way that left my mind completely overwhelmed. Sadly, it took all of a few minutes, and I couldn’t hold on any longer.

I wanted to warn her to move, but when I touched her cheek she smacked my hand away and sucked harder than before, leaving me begging.

“Don’t stop. Oh, God, Sway, please, don’t stop ...ah, fuck ...” My rough responses tapered off when speaking became impossible, and the only noises coming from me were a string of loud, throaty groans as I spilled inside her mouth.

My entire body throbbed as I let out another loud groan when I came. I felt lightheaded, and my hips moved on their own, my climax lingering, akin to overlapping orgasms.

When she was finally crawling up my body to lie next to me, I saw the tears in her eyes.

I panicked. “Fuck... did I hurt you? Oh, God, I knew we shouldn’t have done this.”

My hands flew to my hair where I knotted them in the mess.

Sway shook her head vigorously, reaching for my hands, pulling them into hers. “No, no, no, Jameson... it’s not that.” She drew in a shaky breath. “I’m happy. I’m beyond happy, actually.” Her head fell against my chest, her arms circling around me. “I needed you. I needed to know that I could still... please you.”

It was my turn to draw in a shaky breath, cupping her cheeks.

“What would make you think you couldn’t?” I asked incredulously.

“I don’t know... after everything Darrin did.” Her tiny shoulders shrugged. “I wanted to know that we still could be together in that way. That we still could... please each other—that he didn’t take that from us.”

I had no words. I stared at her, watching her tears fall. This woman before me owned my heart, she owned my soul, and she thought she couldn’t please me physically?

My heart was pounding as I began to speak. “Sway,” I whispered, cupping her cheek with my hand. My thumb brushed over her lower lip. “Being with you, physically, is the most satisfying experience I’ve ever felt. I can’t even begin to describe the desires I have for you... they border on illegal, honey.” She laughed, her tears beginning to slow. “I will never feel the way I feel about you with anyone else. So for you to think you wouldn’t please me... well, forgive me for saying this to you, but you are fucking insane.”

Of course, she started laughing once I said this.

I pulled her against my chest, my hands traced her shoulders and down her arms.

“You’re everything to me, and you do satisfy me both emotionally and physically, beyond words.”

Her snarky side returned, quirking an eyebrow at me. “You’re just saying that because I gave you some micro-polishing.”

“Well,” I chuckled, moving my lips over her jaw. “There’s that, too.”