Lug Nuts – Large nuts put on with a high-pressure air wrench during a pit stop. In NASCAR they use five on each wheel and if all five are not applied, they issue a penalty to the team.

 

Sway and I watched our little spaz flail around. He alternated between showing his manhood to showing his rear. I thought it was adorable, Sway thought he was showing off, which proved he was definitely my son. I watched Sway most of the time, fascinated by her rapt attention to him.

Ren concluded her measurements and examination, leaving us alone for the few minutes I had left.

She was also kind enough to print out two pictures for us.

My eyes met Sway’s once again, a small smile graced her lips, but I could tell she was exhausted. Dr. Clayton explained this was a part of pregnancy, but she’d been through so much and mentally she was drained.

“How are you feeling?” I asked, brushing my fingertips over her cheek. “Do you need anything?”

“Sore... sad... worried... the list goes on and on.” Her left hand rose, touching my own cheek.

Her head turned slightly, revealing more bruises along the side of her neck. My breath caught in an audible gasp when I realized what those bruises were from.

“Sorry,” Sway apologized, attempting to hide the marks.

I felt the anger bubble inside that she felt that need to apologize for something completely out of her control.

“I don’t want to ever hear you say that again.” My fingers curled around her chin, turning her to look at me. “Do you hear me, honey... don’t apologize. Ever,”

She blinked, slowly sensing the boundary. “Where’s Darrin?”

“I took care of it.” My eyes dropped to our interlocked hands and then back to her eyes to gauge her reaction.

Confusion garbled her features for a moment, and then she searched my face.

I hadn’t looked in a mirror, afraid actually, but I could tell my nose was broken, I was pretty sure my lip was swollen, and my hands were bruised and swelling.

“Oh, my God, Jameson!” she gasped, taking in everything. “What did you do? Oh, my God ...” she looked down at my battered hands, pulling them in for a closer look. “Are they broken?”

“Shhh... shhh... honey,” I soothed when I noticed her and the baby’s heart monitors were accelerating. “Calm down, you need to relax,”

“Oh, God, are you going to prison? Oh, man... I’m going to be one of those wives who has to have those conjugal visits... oh, man... what ...” her voice finally trailed off after her rant. I couldn’t help the small smile that appeared when she was talking about conjugal visits.

“Calm down. I... we don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

“Calm down?” she repeated incredulously. “Seriously, what if you get arrested? Oh, God... why did you? Why not let the police take care of it?”

“You don’t understand. It was—”

“I understand perfectly! You don’t understand. What if something happens to you?” Sway interjected incredulously. “Goddamn it, Jameson... you are so obtuse to this that you can’t see beyond protecting me?”

“I will protect you. I will keep you safe,” I growled, pulling at my hair. “I won’t let something like that happen to you again,” I intoned, trying to make her grasp the meaning.

Sway’s face flushed pink with anger. “Do you even realize what you’re saying? You can’t control everything, Jameson,” she snapped back, the heart monitor began beeping, warning us this was too much for her and the baby. “You think everything is within your power—that you can control everything that happens to me. You can’t!”

My own anger got the best of me, and I jumped to my feet, my fists clenched at my sides, trying not to launch something across the room. “I’ll take a lot from you, Sway, but I’m not going to take that shit. I have a right to want to protect you and my son.”

She said nothing, but it was easy to read the sequence of emotions across her face. There was shame, anger and, then finally, defeat.

“Why do you feel it’s your responsibility?” she asked slowly, shrugging her shoulders.

And then I saw the hurt. Hurt for us. Hurt for her. Hurt for me.

“Because I had to do something, Sway,” I finally exploded. I couldn’t take it any longer. “I couldn’t sit back and act like it didn’t happen. Act as if he didn’t take something so personal from you, from me! I can’t be with you every second of the day, though I would if I could. It scares the shit out of me. I don’t want to be like this... so precariously co-dependent on you. But I am.” My voice cracked in frustration. “I had to do something.” I turned away from her, unnerved by the moisture in my eyes. Several tense, painful seconds went by as I struggled to get it together. “He could have killed you and my son—imagine how that felt for me.”

Sway’s voice was just above a whisper, “Don’t you see Jameson—you can’t protect me all the time. You shouldn’t have to. We shouldn’t be ...” her voice faded.

My eyes tightened at her words. I fucking knew this was coming. I knew she would have a reaction like this at some point. And now she was, at the worst possible time.

“Sway,” I pleaded, reaching for her. “Don’t do this... please... honey ...”

“You don’t understand,” she said, pushing me away.

How the fuck could she possibly think this? What didn’t I understand?

I shook my head slowly, staring at the floor and not a lot else.

“I don’t understand?” I repeated in disbelief. Reaching forward, I placed my hand under her chin, forcing her to look at me. “I’m going to pretend... you didn’t say that to me.”

Sway flinched at the sound of my icy voice. It was rare for me to ever direct this type of anger toward Sway, but that statement royally pissed me off. I was absolutely livid that she believed that enough to say it.

“Are you thinking... of leaving me?”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at me, blank and completely unreadable.

I pulled away, anger pulsing through me as I tried to control myself in front of her, which I was failing at miserably. Instinctively I hurled a vase of flowers at the wall, the loud crash of glass hitting the wall echoed through the silent room.

My furious gaze met hers. Sway continued to stare back at me in abject horror before I turned to walk away. I just laid everything I had on the line for what... her to leave when shit got real?

What I knew in my heart, though, that wasn’t Sway.

“Oh, God!” she cried hysterically. “Jameson, I’m so sorry, no... no... I can’t leave you, please... don’t leave... that wasn’t what I meant ...” her voice trailed off as speaking became impossible through her tears.

My aggression got to me and I punched the door before I had her in my arms. Sway clung to me as though I was her lifeline to breathe—frantically grabbing anywhere she could to get closer to me. Her arm circled tightly around my neck.

I wanted so badly to stay and hold her like I should after that, but I couldn’t, I had no other choice.

“It’s okay, I know,” I murmured. “I know... I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Kyle rapped lightly on the door and stuck his head in, pointing to his watch. “I’m really sorry to interrupt you guys, but... we need to get to the track.” I nodded, annoyed my time with her was up and irritated that we spent the last few minutes arguing.

My eyes flickered back to Sway.

“I’m sorry, honey, but I really do have to go.” Standing beside her bed, my knuckles rubbed against the rail, wincing when I saw the tears return. “I’ll be back tonight after the race.”

She only nodded. I didn’t know if it was all the medication she was on, or if this was too hard for her; either way, it left me feeling more like an asshole for leaving.

I carefully leaned forward to rest my hand on her belly and kissed her. Her lips were soft and warm and everything I wanted to feel in that instant. Without another word, only because I knew my voice would fail me, I mouthed, “I love you,” backing away from her bedside. Watching in despondency as tears slipped down her bruised cheek, my heart was breaking, my gut wrenching in pain to stay.

I hated this part of my job. But I chose this profession. I signed a contract. I had commitments that I couldn’t walk away from without ruining everything I’d ever worked for. This was the entire reason why I didn’t want Sway caught up in my lifestyle to begin with. How could I have asked her to be with me knowing damn well I couldn’t provide her with the security she needed? Sway needed a man who would be there for her when she needed him, be there when their child was born, and be there when her dad died. At this point, I had no idea where I would be when the baby was born. I had no idea where I would be when Charlie died.

Alley met us at the end of the hallway. Emma was leaning against the wall staring at her quarter diamond ring and holding a wedding planner.

“Emma... will you... stay with her?” I asked, tipping my head toward Sway’s room.

She didn’t answer but smiled widely and headed for the room with the wedding planner.

Alley laughed, tucking a strand of loose black hair behind her ear. “I feel bad for Sway. And, by the way, congrats on the baby boy.”

“How did you know?”

“I just did.”

I’m not sure what color she intended on dying her hair but now she resembled my mom’s calico cat, Gasket.

“Nice, uh... hair,” I smiled as she handed me a thick manila envelope.

Alley swatted at me. “Shut up, asshole!”

“What’s this?” I opened the envelope once inside the Expedition.

“It’s the paperwork from Phillip for the title transfer for Ms. Taylor.”

“Is this everything?” My fingers slipped through the legal documents with sticky notes where I needed to sign. “All I have to do is sign and the house is hers, right?”

“Yes... sign there and there... the rest is taken care of.”

I hadn’t told anyone, but after I was released from the hospital, I had Phillip help me find a home in Memphis for Axle’s mom, Sara. She was a single mother, and any money she did have went into medical care for Axle or his funeral. I deposited twenty thousand dollars into an account for her, and found a small two-bedroom house for her to make a fresh start with her two-year-old daughter, Mia. I had no idea what it was like to lose a child, and I hoped I never had to feel what she was feeling right now. The least I could do for her was help her out financially and provide a place for them to live.

“What kind of statement would you like to make to the media?” Alley asked, typing away on her Blackberry.

“Let’s say something along the lines of... Thank you for all your support and prayers, but my family and I ask that you respect our privacy. I will not be commenting on anything related to my personal life or associated with my family’s personal lives.” I paused reciting it silently to myself once more. “Would that be too harsh?”

Alley smiled, but continued to type. “No, I think that’s perfect.”

“Simplex wants to talk with you.”

“Great.”

Everything was quiet for a few minutes until Alley’s phone beeped. She read the message and burst out laughing.

“What?” Kyle asked, merging onto the highway. I continued to sign the paperwork needed for the title transfer but listened to what she was saying.

“Wyle Products withdrew sponsorship from Gibson Racing. Darrin and Mike are both out of a ride now.”

It’s not like that made me feel better, but it did help.

The clouds had parted by the time we made it back to New Hampshire Raceway. Inside the hauler getting ready for our team meeting, a NASCAR official told me Gordon wanted to see me.

I wasn’t sure what to expect when I walked inside the NASCAR hauler before the drivers’ meeting, but I hardly expected Gordon Reynolds to be in there alone. A typical NASCAR meeting consisted of Gordon, Director of Competition, and Patrick Madden, CEO of NASCAR, and usually a few other officials who I never knew or cared to really know. This wasn’t a typical trip to the principal’s office.

I walked inside, closing the door behind me, reticently glancing around.

Would he question me about Darrin? Would he ask about Sway? All questions I asked myself when I took a seat.

“I think there is something you should see.” Gordon’s eyes lifted my direction and then turned his laptop around to face me.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, looking at the CD in his hand. “What is that?”

“It’s the video surveillance from the east stairwell of the Concord grandstands,” he said, swiveling his laptop around for me to see. “There are surveillance cameras located on each floor and in each stairwell.”

Was he serious?

My heart pounded as a gasp escaped. With shaking and sweaty palms, my voice trembled when I spoke, “Why don’t the police have that?”

“They do. This is NASCAR’s copy.” Gordon relaxed into his black leather chair behind his cherry wooden desk. Paperwork and folders spread out everywhere buried the wood. “Do you want to see it?”

“Yes,” I said with an acrimony tone, reaching for the CD.

Gordon yanked it back, shaking his head. “I can’t let you have it, but you can watch it here.” His malevolent tone sparked as he inserted the CD into his laptop.

Now, I clearly was not thinking when I said yes. I had no idea what was on that surveillance video, but that part of me that was completely reckless and out of control had to know what happened. I had so many emotions going through my head I wasn’t sure how to deal with them at that point. I was holding on by a thread, and a very thin thread at that. Barely breathing, barely even surviving among the living had become my life these last few days. Even with all that, I wasn’t aware that the final thread could be cut in a matter of seconds.

“The recording is for a three-hour period so there is a lot of pass through here.” He sped up the video and the time stamp raced by an hour in seconds when you saw the door open and Mariah walk down the stairs, and then back up again with a closed for cleaning sign.

I had no idea Mariah was involved until now.

“The police have this?”

“Yes,” he assured me. “Mariah was arrested this morning.”

There was something off about his behavior, though; I couldn’t place it, but it seemed malicious. I’d never really trusted Gordon, and I wasn’t about to now.

Gordon sped the video up another thirty minutes. Then you saw the door opened once again, and Sway stepped inside only taking about ten steps before abruptly stopping. Even on the video, you can see her body tense. Or maybe it was that I knew her reactions well enough to know when she was scared.

Less than a minute later Darrin appeared to step behind her. This was the part of the video where my breathing increased considerably, and my blood began to boil. It was like torture I’d never endured before.

The next few minutes were probably the most horrifying minutes of my entire life, watching in revulsion as Darrin... oh, God... this has to be a nightmare... a vile unspeakable nightmare. The images of her attack burned into my brain.

Her body was limp, lifeless, and bleeding as he hovered over her. A sharp pain rose in my throat at the sight as a severe case of vertigo hit me like a wrecking ball. When he tried to push her against the wall and reached for the button of his jeans, I staggered back away from the screen, gasping for breaths.

All this time, I thought I knew what pain was. I was wrong. So incredibly wrong.

 “Oh, God... why ...” I let out a strangled sob. “Why would you show me that?” I yelled out, slamming my fists against the wall of his office. Falling to the floor, the shock of everything finally settled in.

The thread had been cut.

I tried not to see it, I tried to make it stop, but the images wouldn’t stop. They were constant.

Pain, torture, anguish, agony, grief... all crashed over me, piling up, waiting for the next turn to beat me down, and queuing in line to rip me to pieces. Each emotion was tearing through me. The weight in my stomach was ripping through me. I buried my face in my hands, begging for the pain to dissipate. Beseeching for relief but feeling nothing.

I lay there, collapsed on the floor on the NASCAR hauler, the pain coursing through me so rapidly I thought I would shatter at any moment if I didn’t get relief. My mind was go garbled I couldn’t decipher emotions let alone voices, but I thought I heard Alley.

I was sure it was Alley when I felt her arms wrap around me, her voice frantic in my ear. “Jameson! Jameson you have to pull it together. Please, pull yourself together,” she soothed, rubbing my back. “There are media reporters everywhere out there, buddy.” I wasn’t sure if I was crying or not, but by her frantic, reassuring strokes against my cheeks I must have been. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

I tried to stand but staggered backward, sobs racked through me, shaking me to the core.

“You’re a fucking asshole!” Alley screamed at Gordon. She reached for his laptop and launched it across the hauler. It smashed against the wall, the screen finally going black. “You should have never showed him that. Do you know what you’ve just done?”

As always, reality was waiting outside the doors. I knew I needed to get to the drivers’ meeting, but I couldn’t fucking breathe. The heartache I was feeling was so intense, so all-consuming that I didn’t know where I was. I would have fallen to my knees again if Alley hadn’t been holding me up.

“Spencer?” she called out, holding me against her side. “Help me! We need to get him back to the motor coach.”

Still disoriented, I could feel arms of steel wrap around me and pull me toward the door. As soon as the muggy air of the afternoon assaulted me, reporters did as well, all sensing the break.

“Jameson, how are you holding up? How’s Sway doing?” a reporter with ESPN asked. I felt like fucking punching him for even asking.

“I’m sorry,” Alley interrupted, stepping between the reporter and me. “Jameson will not be taking any questions.”

Clearly, I was not okay. I smiled, but it was merely a desperate attempt to hide my anger and grief. It was pretty fucking evident that I was not okay at all. Weaving through them, Spencer got me inside the golf cart.

I could barely keep from breaking down on the way to the motor coach. Once inside, I collapsed against the couch. Spencer and Alley went to find Kyle. I’m not sure how much time passed, but the next voice I heard was Kyle.

“What happened?” I heard him ask when he walked inside. “He was fine before he went to see Gordon.”

Spencer handed me water as Alley explained to Kyle what Gordon showed me.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Kyle seethed before storming out.

“Jameson ...” Alley sighed and bent down beside me on the floor where I was slumped once again, trying to pull myself together. “You have to get to the drivers’ meeting.”

I knew that. I put my own emotions aside and tried for my team who was counting on me today.

Here’s the thing about being a professional athlete—everyone wanted a piece of you. It didn’t matter if you were having a bad day or dealing with your own shit, they regarded you as public property, with an obligation to serve, to entertain, to yield to others. Whether it was our teammates, opponents, reporters, fans, agents, or publicists, we were flooded with obligations and forced to tread water, hoping like hell we didn’t tire ourselves out and drown.

 

Defeat was not an option for a guy like me. It’s not for any professional athlete. As a race car driver, we didn’t back away when inches from another car at two hundred miles per hour. We weren’t easily intimidated. We didn’t flinch, hesitate, give up, and we certainly didn’t surrender. Not at the racetrack anyway. It was the only option. Otherwise, we wouldn’t race and put our lives in danger. No sane person would.

Even though defeat was not an option, our bodies still responded to impulses. Say you’re cold, naturally your body shivers. When you’re hot, you sweat. If you’re scared, your heart may race, breathing becomes rapid, and you’re acting on impulse.

Eventually though your body knows what’s happening, acts quickly to restore equilibrium. It was the only natural reaction.

Similar to the human body’s reaction to restore regularity in the presence of various stimuli, I gave in to Sway, the only woman who could make me shiver and perspire at the same time, the only woman who made my heart beat quickly and my breathing increase.

It was the most natural reaction for me at the time.

And when I finally gave in, admitted defeat, I forgot why I fought it in the first place, why I held on so strongly for so long, telling myself that there was nothing more than physical attraction between us.

I couldn’t have been more wrong, and it taught me a valuable lesson: amidst life’s stimuli and circumstances, and all of the demands and obligations thrust upon me in the spotlight, there was one impulse that I could control. After the heat of the moment had cooled, and my body had physically adjusted to everything that had occurred, I could control how I redeemed myself. I had that power.

“Hey, it’s time.” Bobby stuck his head inside the motor coach. “We have to get to the ...” One look in my direction, and his voice trailed off. “What happened to him?”

With as much strength as I could gather, I rose to my feet.

I had an obligation, a commitment, and I had a choice to make.

Walking beside Tate and Bobby, we made our way inside the media center for the drivers’ meeting. I still hadn’t spoken to either one of them, but they understood.

Andy and Paul walked up to us and sat down in front. Everyone was giving me concerned, sympathetic glances. You know the look, the one that said, “I think he’s gone off the deep end, but we understand why.”

I wanted to say, “Yeah, well I have, people.” I was out of fucking control, and I knew it.

Patrick stood at the podium beside Lisa; Gordon was standing off to the side, sporting a new fat lip and wiping blood from his nose, trying to appear as if nothing was wrong. I shook my head in disbelief as Mason came to sit next to me.

I looked over at him in confusion. They only people allowed in the drivers’ meeting were crew chiefs, drivers, and owners.

“Yeah so ...” He adjusted the fit of his Simplex hat. “I’m going be your crew chief today.”

I let out a small chuckle. “Let me guess... jail?”

“Yep,” Mason let out a laugh of his own, shifting to get comfortable in the metal chair.

Straightening his tie, Patrick cleared his throat, drawing the crowd’s attention to him. “Our first order of business today is to announce that Gordon Reynolds will be stepping down as Director of Competition, effective immediately,” he said, glancing at the crowd. “Lisa Westin will take over in the interim until a permanent replacement is announced next week in Dover.”

That was a change I didn’t see coming. At least maybe now I could make it on and off pit road without a speeding penalty. But, then again, speeding penalties were currently the least of my worries.

After the announcement about Gordon, I couldn’t tell you what they said during the meeting, other than the competition was yellow after fifty laps because of yesterday’s rain. When it rained, it washed away all the rubber built up on the track. In turn, NASCAR would usually allow what they called the “Competition Yellow” to allow teams to make necessary changes to their cars due to undetermined track conditions.

Walking through the crowd, paddock, and taking the golf cart to the motor coach seemed robotic.

“How exactly is this going to work?” Spencer asked. “I mean, look at him? He hasn’t eaten anything today or yesterday. We can barely get him to drink fucking water! How’s he supposed to spend four hours in a car that reaches temperatures close to a hundred and twenty degrees?”

“What are we supposed to do?” Alley and Aiden said together. “We don’t have a replacement driver.”

Apparently curled up on the floor wasn’t what they wanted. At least I had my racing suit on. I wanted to drown in my own misery, the images repeated in my brain on an endless loop. I was drowning, treading was no longer possible. And though I wanted to drown, it was impossible with Spencer and Aiden bugging the fuck out of me.

“This isn’t good... oh, man ...” Mason walked in with the same concern as everyone else. “What are we going to do? How long has he been laying there?”

“A while,” Alley muttered, handing me another bottle of Gatorade, trying to get me to hydrate myself.

Shaking my head, I pushed it away. I hadn’t eaten or drank anything since before the race yesterday. I couldn’t. It was disgusting how consumed I was with this; I was appalled with myself even.

“Maybe we should call Justin as a backup driver?” Aiden suggested. “He’s a NASCAR-sanctioned driver.”

“We can’t. He’s in Rossburg, and then they fly to Sarver tomorrow, and then Summer Nationals after that,” Alley told him. “Jameson has to get in that car. We don’t have anyone who can fill in.”

“Well, he’s fucking useless like this!” Spencer barked, tossing his hands in the air. “He needs to get his shit together.”

“I’m still in the goddamn room. I can fucking hear you guys!” I shouted, peeling myself from the floor. I took the Gatorade from Alley. “Just leave me alone.”

Like I said before, after the heat of the moment had passed, we could cool off and clean up the messes we made. We could try to let go of what was. We were left with a choice—sink or swim. I had an obligation to my team, to my sponsor, and most of all, I had an obligation to the woman I asked to marry me. Nothing that happened so far changed that. I still had an obligation to all the people who made it possible for me to live my dream. And that included Sway. My obligation to her was to be the man she needed. Be the father she would want our child to look up to, not the man lying on the floor of his hauler, begging for relief from the guilt he felt. She needed someone who she wouldn’t be ashamed to call her husband.

 

As our team searched for a rhythm it didn’t have, seeking commitment and focus we couldn’t provide, the race stuttered on for an hour. Being inside the car and racing side by side with the other drivers at speeds that would make most men piss themselves alleviated some of the pain, but not completely. I wanted it gone, as a man could only take so much.

 Any remorse I may have felt for what I did to Darrin was gone after seeing first-hand what he had done to Sway. It was one thing to try to kill me, and it was something else entirely to try to kill Sway and my son.

If there was anything that I was sure about, it was that I had no business being inside of a race car right now. I was reckless, out of control, impatient, hasty, impetuous, rash... really, no business being out here, but what fucking choice did I have?

“Caution’s out... ten car spinning in turn four, go high,” Aiden announced. “Keep your head here, bud.”

I breathed in deeply but felt no relief. It only reinforced my deadening mood. My team felt it, too. All the warnings and the shared feelings kept us from winning—because of Darrin, because of this situation. I was letting it dictate my style of racing, as well as the response times for our team. We couldn’t perform a proper pit stop to save our asses.

The race had beaten down all that was left. We all felt it. With the unity we had, we all felt what happened yesterday.

I had no idea what position I was in or even what lap we were on, but I knew I was driving like an asshole. I had the furled black flag pointed at me on almost every lap for the way I was racing the other drivers, but I could care less.

“NASCAR said that’s your last warning. Next time, they’ll park you,” Mason said, humorless. “What do you think, four tires?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “No changes... just fuel and tires.”

“You heard him guys... no other changes,” Mason told the crew. “4400 second gear.”

When Mason told me to come in, I realized I was at least on the lead lap. From the looks of it, I came into the pits in ninth, which gave me the first bit of optimism I had all day. I needed a top five finish. As the season wound down, each race was critical. I knew that.

The only problem with all this was my mind, with the muddled state it was in, it was hard to focus on anything besides what I was feeling.

What brought me out of my confusion was noticing the cars pulling out in front of me, and I wasn’t going anywhere yet.

“Come on, guys! Let’s go!” I yelled. “What’s taking so long?” I threw my water bottle out the side of the car toward the crew.

“Sorry, man. We had to get the tape off the front before you overheated.”

“You held me for tape?” I snapped with pithiness. “Don’t ever hold me for tape again!”

Slamming the car into second, I made it onto the apron.

None of this was helping my mood, and I really wanted Kyle back. He would never hold me for things like tape on the grill. But, then again, Kyle knew me without having to try. He knew the way I drove and what would make me comfortable out there.

“Turn on your rear brake fans,” Mason said. “Spencer noticed your brakes were hot.”

I flipped the fans on, irritated.

“Coming to the green next time by, you’re running in eleventh.”

“Eleventh?” I snorted, even more annoyed. “That’s just great, ninth to eleventh.”

“Yes, eleventh,” Mason answered. “Keep focused here, and for Christ’s sake, stay off the forty-eight’s bumper. Another warning and they will park you, Jameson.”

“Coming to the green here. Don’t spin the tires, passing on the outside only,” Aiden reminded me. “Keep coming... keeping coming... green.”

I tried to shift into fourth, but the shifter stuck; it wouldn’t budge. I tried to wiggle it, but nothing. Cars flew by me in a matter of seconds.

“Uh... guys... my gear shift just broke,” I told them.

“Really?” Mason asked. “As in stuck?”

“YES, jammed in third gear.”

“Is that why you’re falling back?” Aiden asked.

“Yes, genius,” I scorned. “That’s why I’m off pace.”

What in the hell is his deal these days?

“Bring it back in, maybe we can pull it out,” Mason suggested.

“Really... when it’s stuck in third ...” I let out another one of those manic chuckles I was becoming good at. “How do you suppose I do that?”

“Just kill the engine when you get into four. Coast onto pit road, and then we’ll give you high gear. We’ll have to push start it, but at least we can get you back out there.”

It worked, but on a track like Loudon, it’d be nice to have another gear besides high gear. It was a good thing I grew up racing on dirt and liked the out of control feeling going into a turn.

Having only high gear wasn’t helping my overheating brakes. I had all four fans on, and it would have been wise for me to allow them to remove the tape on the front now that I was thinking about it.

“What are your temps?” Mason asked around lap three hundred. The not-eating was starting to catch up with me. I was hallucinating. I kept imagining cars that weren’t there. I was sweating like a motherfucker. Instead of my usual agile movements, they bordered on spastic.

“Uh... looks like the coolant is running at two eighty. I’m not really sure what the rest are, they’re all blinking at me.”

“Jesus Christ!” Mason shouted. “What’s the engine temp at?”

“Three hundred.”

“It’s going to blow up. There’s no way it’ll stay that high for another hundred laps.” Mason’s voice was becoming frantic. “Let me talk with Harry.”

He was right. There was no way it would stay that high. Judging by the vibration, I was feeling in the seat, it was already too late.

“You’re smoking,” Aiden announced another ten laps later.

“Just back off, Jameson, coast around,” Harry, our engine specialist, suggested. “We need to finish.”

“Really? How? If you forgot... I’m stuck in high gear!”

“Right,” Harry said. “Do you have your fans on?”

“Yes, I have the fans on!” I yelled as I felt the vibration more consistently going into turn three, the sound of the engine was flat. By the time I reached one again, it was done for.

“It’s done,” Aiden said. “Big cloud of smoke... you’re leaving an oil trail.”

“Son of a bitch,” Mason muttered. “Take it to the garage. If you can make it,”

“What the fuck is wrong with you guys!” I barked back. “I can’t! High gear... means high gear! As in, if I let off, it’s done.”

“It’s already done,” he pointed out. “Just bring it down pit road. We’ll push it back.”

As soon as I exited the car, reporters were in my face asking me what happened. I took off my helmet when I stepped over the wall and hurled it across that pit.

“Jameson, can you tell us what happened there?”

I pointed to my steaming car, throwing my gloves.

“What do you think?” I replied insolently and stalked away from them.

I knew I was being disrespectful, and I’d probably hear about it from Simplex later, but I’d had a long fucking two days. I was drained, physically and mentally.

 Just like my engine today, my body was shutting down. I could barely put one foot in front of the other to get back to the hauler. The entire time I was in the car, I thought of nothing but that video, my fight with Sway this morning, and how much of an asshole I felt like for snapping at her.

Once inside the hauler, I collapsed in the same spot as I did before the race and waited for Aiden or Spencer to come get me. I was in no shape to be driving myself back to the hospital.

I must have either passed out or fallen asleep. When I came back around, Spencer and Aiden were hovering over me.

“Not again,” I heard Alley’s voice in the distance. “How long has he been lying there now?”

“An hour... we think.”

That caught my attention. I needed to get back to see Sway.

 

Sway was sleeping when I arrived. Dr. Clayton met me outside her room. “Mr. Riley, she’s been asking for you, but she’s sleeping now.”

“Am I allowed to go in there?” I asked, shuffling my feet.

“Yes,” he said as his eyes fell to her chart he was holding. “She was in a lot of pain this afternoon so I had to give her some pain medication.”

I nodded once, my eyes focused on the ground. “Is she okay?”

“Yes, she’s been through a lot in the last forty-eight hours. It’s to be expected she’s in pain considering she fell down two flights of stairs, and the placental abruption is painful for some women.” Dr. Clayton leaned against the wall, tucking his file under his arm. “After speaking with Renata in Obstetrics we discovered the abruption is moderate to severe. We know Sway isn’t going to make it full term at this point. But all we can do is hope that she can make it to thirty-two weeks.”

“What if she doesn’t?”

He paused, choosing his words. “Every week is better. I’ve seen babies born at twenty weeks and go on to live a normal life with minimal complications ...” He paused again. “Like I said, every week we can keep him in there is better.”

I think he knew at that point I was starting to get the glazed over look again, knowing it was too much for me. He motioned toward the door with a nod. “Go ahead—she’s been waiting for you.”

When I walked inside, she was sleeping. Looking at her now, I was reminded of how much all this hurt. How much it hurt to see the love of my life, the reason for existence lying in a hospital bed, because of me.

I hated the remorse I felt, but I prayed I’d see past the wreckage for some sort of repentance. This wasn’t healthy for me to feel this way nor was it healthy for me to be blaming myself, but I did. I did because, at that moment, blame was all I felt.

 

I was starting to doze off beside Sway’s bed when I heard the click of her door. I looked around confused for a moment, trying to decipher if this was a dream or not. Part of me wished it were. Swimming in emotions wasn’t enough. I was suffering. Burning alive with pain, agony, anguish, and grief as my only friends. My mind was in such a tormented stage that I didn’t know if I could pull out of the blackness. So, yeah, I was disoriented.

My mom peeked her head inside. “Is it a bad time, sweetie?”

I shook my head, rubbing my eyes as she walked in, taking a seat on the other side of Sway.

Trying to focus, I sat up straighter in the chair, rubbing my eyes once again. It was like trying to see through thick fog.

Mom sat quietly for a few moments, her hands clasped near her chin, praying.

“How are you holding up?” she whispered with love and concern. The same look everyone was giving me.

“I, uh—” I started to speak, but the emotion grew into a painful lump in my throat.

I gave up trying to answer her and shrugged, my face fell in my hands that were resting on the bed.

The truth was, I was far from holding up. I was an absolute fucking mess. I couldn’t think of anything but Sway. I couldn’t eat, and sleeping was becoming something I only wished I could do but sadly couldn’t achieve soundly. Every time I closed my eyes, the video deluged my mind, leaving me miserable. I let this happen to her, and I couldn’t get past that.

Mom was quiet for a few moments longer, and then bent forward, reaching for my hand over Sway’s sleeping body.

“Jameson,” she began, tears streamed down her own cheeks now. “I know that you think this is your fault. I know my son.” She paused until my teary eyes met hers and she smiled. “You’ve always thought it was your responsibility to protect Sway, to protect your sister, to protect everyone. Especially with Sway. But sweetie, this, what happened to Sway, is not your fault. You can’t control what happens to her no more than you can control the outcome of a race. You can’t protect her from everything, and you need to realize that before you hurt yourself trying.” Her hand rose to sweep my tears away as she did when I was a child. “Sway needs you to be there for her, but as her boyfriend and soon-to-be husband. She needs you to be a father to your child together. She does need you, just not as her protector.” Leaning forward, she kissed my forehead before whispering one last piece of advice, “Think about what I said, sweetheart.”

My mom was right, and I understood what she was trying to tell me. The problem was, I wasn’t sure I could forget what happened and let go of what I caused.

I drew in a deep breath once my mom left. My hand reached for Sway as she slept. I finally allowed myself to think with uncharacteristic optimism at the thought that, together, we could pull through this. It was possible. She was alive. The baby was alive. That right there was reassuring to me.

I felt her hand twitch in mine, her fingers gently squeezing.

“Jameson ...” she breathed, her eyes flickering open. “You’re back.”

“Yes, honey.” I smiled weakly. “I’m here.”

“I love you, Jameson,” she spoke softly, her own tears falling. My hand rose gently to brush the tears away with my thumb.

I let out a gasp that was probably closer to a sob; I truly was a fucking mess. Bending forward, I cradled her in my arms as much as I could without hurting her.

“Please,” she begged and motioned for me to lie beside her.

I could never deny her anything so I maneuvered myself carefully in the bed, circling my arms around her. It was exactly what the two of us needed in that moment. The warmth of her body, the scent of her, it was everything I needed.

“I love you.” I kissed her forehead as though I was trying to make that one kiss stay there forever.

Sway’s whimsical witty side returned. “You better... I’m carrying your son around inside me.” She let out a small sigh. “And I’ll be on bed rest for the next fourteen weeks. If that’s not love, I don’t know what is.”

“So you’ll still marry me?” My eyes searched hers.

She smirked, glancing down at her ring they allowed her to keep on. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. I refuse to let go of the fairytale.”