Blister – Too much heat can make a tire blister and shed rubber. Most drivers can feel it as vibrations and risk more damage if they don’t pit.

 

“Oh, God, that’s so good.”

“You like?”

“So good!” I nodded enthusiastically. “You have no idea.”

“All right,” Jameson shifted away. “I can only take so much here.”

“But it’s so good.”

“Yeah, well, stop it. I’m dying over here.”

Jameson slipped another bite inside my mouth. “Mmmm.”

“Sway,” he warned once again as though that was his last warning.

“Mmmm.”

“Okay, that’s it.” He pushed the blueberry pancakes aside and kissed me, long and deep. It was the first real kiss we’d shared since I’d been here. I wasn’t the only one left breathless that’s for sure. He groaned, pushing his hips into my leg he was resting against.

He pulled back, his hand wrapping around my cheek, holding me securely against his face. His eyes didn’t open right away—he just stayed there, breathing heavy until he sighed and leaned in to place one more soft kiss against my lips.

“Why did you stop?”

Jameson teased, swaying slightly to the side of my hospital bed where we were laying. “Because, we are in a hospital, and you are not ready for things like that.”

“Yes, I am,” I stated firmly.

“No ...” His eyes narrowed. “You’re not, Sway.”

“Whatever,” I huffed, crossing my one arm over my chest, wincing in pain when I did so because he was right, I wasn’t ready. I was still incredibly sore. I really had no idea how painful a broken rib was until now. It was not something I cared to have ever again. Breathing, talking, farting, it all hurt.

“My point exactly,” he said, tapping his index finger lightly against my nose. “You’re not ready.”

I smiled. “You like being in control, don’t you?”

He smirked, looking away to the window. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Good morning,” Renata called, opening the door to stick her head inside. “I brought my favorite girl a treat.” She held a white cup in her hand. “Decaf white chocolate mocha, right?”

“Did you have something to do with that?” I smiled at Jameson.

“Good woo, right?” he replied, winking.

“Yes... good at the wooing.” I smiled back, sinking into his warm arms.

“You guys are adorable,” Renata gushed, pushing the machine toward the bed. “So kids, it’s time for the ultrasound.”

I watched as Jameson’s eyes lit up at the thought of seeing his little spaz again.

He didn’t disappoint. Our little flailing spaz wiggled around, showed his baby manhood, his baby bum, and even sucked his thumb, which I thought was so cute. Jameson chuckled.

Renata was kind enough to let us watch him for a good twenty minutes. Judging by his little movements, he was a spitting image of his father in more ways than one.

Jameson was entertaining to watch. His eyes focused intently on the baby, asking what parts were what and smiling more than I’d seen in a long time.

Eventually Renata concluded her measurements and exam. Afterward, she sat down in a chair to speak with us.

“After this last ultrasound, I’m confident that in another two weeks you can go home, with restrictions,” Renata told us.

“What kind of restrictions?” Jameson asked, still lying in bed with me.

She smiled at him as though she was about to deliver our death sentences.

“Well, for one, no flying; and two... no sex until after thirty-two weeks.”

Yep, death sentence for sure.

“What?” I nearly screamed. Jameson laughed nervously. “You have to be fucking kidding me?” I said with wide eyes. I reserved this look for situations of this nature. The last time I used it was when Charlie threatened to send me to boarding school if I didn’t remove my nipple ring I’d gotten in Mexico when I was sixteen.

Renata found my reaction entertaining.

“No, sorry, not kidding. Since you’ve started dilating it’s best no penetration takes place.”

Jameson coughed, shifting next to me. His expression reminded me of high school health class when we had to put condoms on bananas, and I ripped the condom off his and ate his banana in front of the class.

“So, that means we can do other things, just no actual align boring?” I clarified.

“Sway!” Jameson blurted out, shifting again.

I don’t know why he’s so shocked. I know Jameson was thinking the same thing.

“Exactly.” Renata giggled at Jameson’s reaction. “You can do other things.” She winked at us. “Just no penetration.”

“Well... that’s a relief.” I locked eyes with Jameson. “Just no penetration.”

“Stop saying that word.”

“When you are ready to go home, have you thought of where you will be staying?” Renata interrupted. “I know you said your regular obstetrician is in Elma, right?”

“Yes, Dr. Sears is in Elma. I figured I would have to go back there ...” I glanced at Jameson. He flashed me a smile. “But I can’t fly?”

“I’d prefer you didn’t fly.”

“Well... that’s going to be tough.” I was defeated.

No flying and no penetration? They might as well lock me up.

The thought of a road trip cross-country was not appealing to me, seeing as Jameson wouldn’t be able to accompany me. He had to fly out tomorrow morning for Dover, and then Kansas. By the time my two weeks were up, he’d be flying to Fontana again and then straight to Martinsville. His schedule was crazy right now with the last nine races of the series. We didn’t have time for this, but there I was in bed, recovering. Bed rest was inconvenient as hell right now.

Once Renata left, Jameson and I spoke for a few minutes about the baby, but I could tell his attention was elsewhere. His phone had been buzzing all morning, but he’d yet to answer it. I knew real life was waiting for him.

“What happened?” I asked softly, my face resting against his chest. They finally took my bandage off my head but the stitches couldn’t be removed for another two weeks. The cast on my arm had to stay on for another four weeks after that, which sucked.

“Sway... honey, it is really hard for me to talk about it,” he breathed against my forehead. We still hadn’t talked about anything that happened. Even last night after the race, he didn’t want to talk, just held me all night. Which was fine, but eventually, we would need to talk about it before it blistered into something much worse.

“I know... it’s... no one will actually tell me what happened, and I don’t remember anything. The only thing I remember is walking into the stairwell—after that, everything is a blank until I woke up here.”

Jameson didn’t say anything, but I felt his heart beating rapidly.

“The police said he tried to—”

His hand came up and silenced my lips. Shaking his head, he spoke slowly with a sharp edge to his tone that I’d never heard before, “Don’t say that word... please, for the sake of my fucking sanity, don’t say it.”

“Did he?” I asked point-blank.

“He tried, but Emma walked in.” His eyes got that glazed-over formidable look they’d had since he came back from the race yesterday. “I saw the surveillance video.”

“You what?” I asked, alarmed, trying to sit up.

He took a quick deep breath, running his hands through his hair and then down his jaw. “Gordon showed me the video yesterday before the race.”

“Jesus... what did you do? Why don’t the police have it?”

“They do have it.” I sensed him shutting down. “Listen, can we not talk about this right now?”

“Sure,” I muttered sourly. My gaze found the window.

I was irritated that no one would tell me what happened. I wanted to know. What was wrong with that?

Jameson’s hand moved from his hair to touch my cheek, turning me to look at him again. His eyes focused intently on mine for a moment. “I’m sorry... I just, it’s hard for me,” he choked; his eyes glistened, before he tipped his head and squeezed them shut. “I... can’t explain what I felt in that moment. It was like seeing my own personal nightmare come true... and then re-living it, repeatedly. It’s all I see right now. I can’t stop... the images.”

“I’m sorry.”

“What did I say about that?” he growled, tensing as he became increasingly rigid.

“What do you want me to say? I don’t know what to say... I don’t know how to talk to you about it. Everything with you and me was always so easy. I could talk to you, but now, you won’t let me.”

“Because.” His eyes dropped as his guard took over. “I don’t want to think about it.”

“Jameson,” I sighed. “I don’t want to fight with you about this anymore. I just want to know what happened to me. I didn’t know that was so much to ask for.”

“I can’t tell you that.” He let out a dramatic huff, removing himself from the bed. “I don’t even want to think about what happened, let alone repeat it,” he mumbled, walking out of the room.

I was expecting him to punch the wall or show some sort of outward anger, but he did nothing. He walked out.

I started crying once he left, my face buried in my pillow. He was gone about ten minutes when there was another knock at the door.

“Is it a bad time?” Officer Henley, the detective on my case, peeked inside.

This wasn’t the first time we’d spoken so I felt comfortable enough to have him in here alone with me.

“No,” I choked, brushing my tears away. “Come in.”

“Are you sure? I can come back later.”

“No, it’s fine.” I angled the bed up with the remote so I was more in a sitting position.

“I wanted to let you know that Mariah Fowler was detained yesterday morning, and Chelsea Adams was arrested a few hours ago. Both are being charged as accessories to an attempted murder of both you and the baby. Gordon Reynolds was also arrested, his involvement isn’t clear yet, but we know he was involved at some point. Darrin Torres is still missing, though.” He looked down at his note pad. “A Dana Sloan was also brought in for questioning... she’s being held at the moment, but we’re not exactly sure her involvement either.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

Where’s Emma when I needed all this crime talk spelled out for me?

“Well, accessories are people who were not present during the commission of the crime, but who helped the principals before or after the crime was committed.” My eyes glazed over, similar to Jameson’s. “Ms. Fowler will be charged with second-degree attempted murder, as she was present at the time of the attack. Ms. Adams is being charged as an accessory. Both have admitted to everything, with sworn written statements. There won’t be a trial for them, but their arraignment is something you can attend if you’d like to.”

I shook my head.

Was he crazy?

I did not intend to see any of them again. I was all for forgiveness, but I drew the line at some point in permanent fucking marker or paint, whichever was more lasting.

“So there was a surveillance video?”

 “Yes, there was.” He watched me carefully. “I heard Jameson viewed it.”

“Yeah, that went well.”

“I think he’s had about as much as he can handle.”

“Was I raped?” I blurted out without thinking. I had to know, and no one would tell me. It was something that was important for me to know.

“From the video, it’s hard to say ...” his voice faded, his eyes darted around the room.

I’d had enough. “Oh, come on, just tell me!”

I must have frightened him; Lord knows I surprised myself in that moment, because he began stuttering. “I, uh ...”

“Answer the damn question,” I snarled back. I was on a roll with this newfound assertiveness. “Tell me, cop boy!” I think I even pointed my finger at him.

“He started to... from the video I’ve seen, Darrin began to but abruptly stopped. You can’t tell from the angle of the camera whether or not he actually ...” his voice trailed off as he searched for the right words to say. “Well, he ...”

I decided to help him. “Jesus Christ, you can’t tell whether he stuck it in or not. Am I right?”

It was so frustrating how guarded everyone was with their terminology. Just spit it out already. I’m not a china doll for fuck’s sake.

Henley’s face flushed a deep puce color before he stuttered again. “Yes, you can’t tell what he was in the process of doing, as Emma interrupted him and he fled.”

I felt better. I don’t know why, but the fact that I didn’t have Darrin’s oil leak inside me made me happier—happier than I was at least. I was still pissed as hell he did what he did and wanted chop his dick off.

Henley left, red-faced and all, after my verbal attack. Before I could call Jameson to see where he disappeared to, another nurse stuck her head inside. “Hey, sweetie, you got another delivery, and this one has a letter in it.”

“Oh, well let me see.”

I had gotten an excessive amount of cards and flowers from Jameson’s fans, drivers’ wives, and Lisa Westin, the new Director of Competition for NASCAR, but no notes yet.

I was actually curious as to what someone would write at a time like this.

The flowers were pretty—white roses inside of a crystal vase. The nurse placed the flowers near the large window in the sun before handing me the note and shuffling back toward the door.

 

Dearest Sway,

I don’t really know where to start, but I should start with I’m sorry. I know that I’m going to jail, and I deserve it. I never meant for you or your baby to get hurt.

I didn’t think Darrin and Mariah were actually serious. I will say that Mariah was merely along for the ride. She wanted Jameson, as did I, but Jameson has only ever had eyes for you.

Even in high school when he was dating me. The way he looked at you when you walked by... I only wished he had looked at me the same way. I was jealous. I did something incredibly stupid, and I will pay the consequences now.

When Jameson told me he was leaving, he never gave me the option to go with him, but he did with you. I knew him leaving with you would result in you two together. I was surprised it took as long as it did.

I never understood his obsession with racing, but you did, and that’s why you two were perfect for each other. I know my apologizing isn’t going to help anything, but for myself I had to do it.

Therefore, I wish you, Jameson and your child a happy and healthy life together. I’m sorry for any pain I’ve caused you guys. I only wanted Jameson out of it, but I knew when I saw you in Charlotte with him, it wasn’t going to happen.

I’m sorry it went as far as it did. I wish the best for you.

Sincerely,

Chelsea Adams

 

I didn’t know what to say. Who knew she actually had a heart. I didn’t forgive her, and if I ever saw her again, I would probably set her on fire, but at least she had the decency to apologize.

What a morning, was my first thought.

I folded the note away, intending on giving it to Officer Henley, when Jameson returned.

His expression was the same. Lost, confused, sad, tormented... you named it... Jameson was feeling it. I could hardly look into his eyes without seeing the culpability drowning him, seas of burden colliding with the waves of reprieve. To think he might not see past this made it hard to believe.

I knew there was a burning anger there waiting to be released. The worst part was knowing it hadn’t yet and the fire that was waiting.

“Where did those come from?” he asked, motioning with his head to the display of white roses. His voice was dull and shredded of any emotion.

“Well, they, uh ...” my voice halted when he reached for the note.

There’s nothing I could have said in that moment, nothing. I knew the reaction that was coming. I knew the fury that was about to be displayed. The fire was about to burn.

The instant he realized who the note was from, the vase shattered against the wall. Glass, water, and flowers crashed toward the floor. He didn’t stop there and overturned the tray next to the bed sending it flying at the wall.

“That fucking bitch!” Jameson stood with his back to me, his hands resting on the windowsill, his breathing coming in short gasps. “How could she?”

He wasn’t looking for an answer, and I knew enough about his temper not to reply.

I could see his hands trembling as he struggled to gain his composure. The whites of his knuckles were prominent, and I knew he was moments away from punching the window.

“Jameson... please don’t push me away.” I spoke softly, trying not to set him off further. “I need you right now. I need you now more than ever. Just, please, don’t turn away.”

Before I finished the last word, he was beside me, crawling into my bed.

“I’m sorry, honey,” he said urgently before his lips found mine. Frantically, he kissed me repeatedly. “I’m sorry,” he said between kisses. “I don’t know how to deal with this.”

Pulling back to look at him, I touched his rough jaw. “I don’t either, but together we have a better chance than dealing with it alone.”

“You’re right.” He sighed, leaning his cheek into my palm. “I hate that this happened because of me. I was wrong to want you, but I did, and now you’re paying for it. I didn’t listen to his warnings and now you’re here, hurting.”

“What do you mean?” My face buried in his neck, wanting to feel the warmth of him.

“I just... you know, with everything going on. I want to stay here with you, but I can’t... I have to fly out tomorrow, and what happens when the baby is born? Will I be there? It’s everything, all the time, piling up on me. I feel that I’m drowning in it all, and not being there for you is what’s sinking me. I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

I reached for his hand that was resting on my stomach, bringing it to my heart. “You’re always here with me, right here... in my heart.”

I saw the first smile I’d seen in a while, it was my smile, but he didn’t say anything—just nodded. His palm moved to rest against my cheek and then pulled my lips to his.

I began to realize why Jameson had wanted sex the moment we were alone when he was in the hospital. It provided a bandage to the pain. It was a way to forget and think of something else entirely. It was a way to escape the reality and the heartache of the situation.

When his kisses slowed, I rested my head against his chest, listening to his steady breathing.

“Just hold me,” I breathed, and he did.

“I’m scared I’ll never let go.” He trembled, and I shook, two hearts breaking into one. He whispered a few more words too low for me to hear against my cheek before kissing it.

“Then don’t.”

And he didn’t. He simply held me, taking away the pain by just holding me.

“You know what really sucks about this?”

“What’s that?” he asked, his hands finding mine.

“I’m going to miss The Black Keys concert.”

Jimi and Nancy had bought me tickets to their concert in Grand Rapids, but with being on bed rest, I’m sure it was out of the question now, considering the concert was tonight.

“I’m sorry, honey. Do you want me to sing for you?”

With my head resting against his chest, Jameson began singing one of my favorite songs of theirs. The vibrations of his low raspy voice that coursed through me were something I both wanted and needed.

He let out a chuckle into my hair. “I don’t know the rest of the words.”

“Don’t worry, it was perfect,” I assured him.

I felt the baby moving when he stopped singing, giggling at the spaz, and then wincing when I felt the pain in my ribs.

“What’s so funny?”

“The baby,” I looked up at him. “He started moving when you stopped singing.”

“Oh, really.” His hand reached to my belly. “Do you think he’ll kick for me?”

Our little spaz didn’t disappoint and kicked.

If this little flailing spaz had taught me anything so far, it was that we took our miracles where we found them. You reached for the impossible, trading paint, brushing the wall, and sometimes, against all logic—you make it through to the lead and hold on for the white flag.

I was holding out for the happy right now—my checkered flag—and having faith that it would come. I had faith that this tiny miracle would get us through racing on the edge.

“There you are.” Emma gave me a nudge, crawling in bed with me. “Where have you been, my little bean dip?”

This was Emma’s way of entering my hospital room these days. I wish I could actually run away. I did try once, and was wheeled right back into this shit hole, and a note was placed in my chart that said Runner.

I was fucking miserable without Jameson here. Emma and I spent most of the time making fun of other patients and nurses who would come through, and when we tired of that, I started making fun of Emma.

Jameson had left on Wednesday morning. The worst part was he left me here with Emma and Van. Everyone else had to be in Dover for the race.

I called Charlie and explained what happened. I think he was high because he took it remarkably well. After speaking with Andrea, she confirmed he was high and that his doctor had prescribed marijuana to calm his nerves. Andrea freaked out about the accident and wanted to come take care of me. I assured her Emma was about all I could handle at the moment.

The good thing about Emma was you felt no self-pity, just annoyance. She had a way about her where you forgot about all your own shit and focused on how someone could be that insane.

On Sunday morning, I wanted to kill her and burn the fucking wedding planner she constantly had in hand. I was depressed about planning the wedding because I knew I couldn’t go on a real honeymoon until after the baby was born. The honeymoon was the one thing I was looking forward to. I still wanted to get married, but I was having my own pity party regarding the honeymoon.

When she began talking about wedding dresses, I wanted to throw a snow globe at her head. Unfortunately, for me, I didn’t have one handy.

Van spent a good part of the time in the room or right outside of it. I think he could only handle Emma in small doses, as well. When she brought up vajazzling my girly pad prior to the wedding, Van quickly turned his head in order to avoid eye contact with both of us and then eventually excused himself.

I didn’t blame him.

Before Jameson left, they decided on a plan that Emma, Van, and I would drive back to Elma together when I was released.

Emma was beyond excited about this; she claimed a good road trip was exactly what we needed. I wasn’t sure who “we” included because Van and I sure as shit didn’t feel that way about a road trip.

“Aren’t you super excited about this?” She asked.

“Emma, I’d rather staple my hand to the goddamn wall than travel across the country with you,” I told her, flipping through channels after Van walked out. I was trying to find the pre-race ceremonies on the ten channels the hospital provided. I wasn’t having any luck.

“That’s a bit harsh,” she voiced, glaring at me. She was currently sitting in the bed with me, her hand on the baby. The moment she felt him move for the first time, she’d been attached to me like a goddamn orangutan.

“It’s not personal,” I said, and then I realized how low her hand was. It was hovering above the crankcase, and I was starting to feel uncomfortable. “Actually, yes... it is personal.” I grabbed her hand. “Okay... I’ve let you grope me long enough.”

Emma giggled, reaching for my stomach again.

“Emma,” I warned. “You touch me again, the rest of today, and I will bitch slap you. No lie.”

She burst into maniacal, uncontrollable laughter and touched my stomach anyway.

Van came back in a few minutes later to see if we needed anything. Emma, of course, thought he was some sort of personal assistant and asked that he get us smoothies.

“Hey, asshole,” I whispered to Emma, who was still in bed with me. “This isn’t a Jamba Juice.”

Van laughed. “I don’t mind, Ms. Sway. There’s a smoothie bar downstairs. I’ll be right back.”

“Look what you’ve done; you’ve made a Navy Seal your bitch.”

She said nothing. Instead, she reached for the remote as though I said nothing.

We managed to find the pre-race ceremony. I hoped to see Jameson in an interview, but he declined all interviews with the media. I didn’t blame him.

He was still having a hard time. Every phone call I could tell his mind was distracted. I finally had to have a talk with him last night and tell him that I needed him to pull through this; we needed him to pull through this. What better way to rise above what Darrin did to us and prove to him and the public that together, we’re strong. Together, we can do this. Jameson could do this.

I wasn’t stupid. I knew the road ahead would be difficult, but together, we would do it.

The media once again painted the picture of Jameson as the out of control hothead, but once the race began, they were right.

He was all over everyone. If they were in his way, he was crowding them until they let him pass or they got so loose they couldn’t hang on anymore. He was aggressive and had the black flag pointed at him nearly every lap. He started nineteenth and was in third by lap fifteen. He was on a mission to prove something, and I knew he would. He was proving to everyone and me, that he was the man we needed. He was the man who could win the Winston Cup Championship in his first season and overcome the unspeakable shadowing.

Everything had amalgamated and pressed into him until he finally couldn’t take it anymore. He was breaking apart inside, trying to fix this with racing.

Van stepped in with our smoothies as the announcers began talking about Jameson. Emma had disappeared to the gift shop so at least I had some peace.

“Jameson Riley just took the lead here,” one announcer said, and then the other began speaking. “You know, we tried to speak with Jameson prior to the race, but he’s been avoiding all media since the incident with his fiancée last week in Loudon.”

“I can’t say I blame him, Rick. Their family has been through a lot since his horrific crash at Pocono; I say we give them their privacy.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Rick replied. “He did issue a statement Monday morning after the incident and asked that we respect his family’s privacy, and I believe we should, so let’s talk about this kid in general. He’s accomplished so much in his short career. In the Busch Series last year, he won fourteen races, and nine of those were from the pole. Then he moves up to the Cup Series and wins his second career start at the Rock. I really believe if he can keep it together, he will win this championship.”

“From the looks of this Rowdy Riley today, he’s out to prove something. If he doesn’t wreck trying, he’ll win because he’s on fire today!”

And, as they predicted, Jameson did just that, he won.

I watched with admiration as my dirty heathen pulled himself together for me, for us. This man, the father of our child was a champion. It didn’t matter what anyone else thought, he was a champion in my mind.

He skipped his usual burn out and went straight to victory lane. I watched closely as he removed himself from the car, but he didn’t stand on the roof as he usually did. He sat on the edge with his head bent forward resting against the roof as if he was praying. His team gathered around, cheering him on and soon he snapped out of it and smiled at the camera.

Once the media made it over, he whispered in the reporter’s ear, who nodded. They then asked how the car was and all the other standard race car talk. What surprised me was his last statement.

Jameson smirked toward the camera, sweat covered his flushed face, and his eyes glistened with tears, his hair a wild mess as he reached for the microphone to pull it closer.

“I have to thank everyone who has stood behind me through everything this year. My sponsor Simplex, I have to thank them because without them this wouldn’t be possible. And most of all, my family... Sway, honey, I couldn’t do anything without you by my side. You helped me see past what wasn’t important.” His voice cracked, and he gave a tight nod. Struggling to keep his emotions in check, he added, “I’m the luckiest man around, and this win’s for you. I’ll be home soon, and I love you.” He then blew a kiss at the camera before he was tackled by Spencer and Kyle.

I knew the win meant I wouldn’t see him until the early hours of the morning, but at least he won. A win to him was a start in the right direction.

 

I believe in karma. I do.

Why?

To me, it was righting something that was wrong in the first place and leaving us to face the past whether it was right or wrong. It was evening the score. It was your past catching up with you.

Van was sitting with me as we watched the SPEED channel. They were currently talking about Jameson’s actions on the track earlier. Apparently, though we didn’t see it, he threw his helmet at an official at one point this weekend. I wasn’t surprised by that.

Van seemed to sense my frustration with Jameson and his recent temper tantrums.

“Ms. Sway, I think it’s time I told you about my past.” He took a seat closer to my bed, pushing his dark hair from his eyes. His elbows rested on his knees as he leaned forward.

I shifted as much as I could to listen. Carefully, I examined his face. Not that I really looked at Van, but it was easy to see when you looked at him that he kept his feelings hidden from the rest of the world. He and Jameson had a lot in common.

“You see,” Van began. “I know exactly how Jameson is feeling right now. I know what it’s like to feel completely out of control and reckless.” Van’s eyes fell to his hands. “Three months before my term ended, I was in Beijing on a mission. When I returned home, it was late, maybe around one in the morning. My family and I were living in Huntsville, North Carolina, at the time.” Van stopped, drawing in a deep breath. His warm hazel eyes held mine as he spoke slowly, “I remember unlocking the door, walking through the living room... down the hall... to find my wife and daughter. I heard noises coming from the back bedroom so I made my way into that room. I’m not sure why, but as I walked in, my subconscious told me something was wrong.”

Van paused again, tears streamed down my cheeks now as I realized where this was going. “The man made it out the window before I could get to him. I saw his face. I was too caught up in trying to save my family to go after him.”

He was quiet, eyes distant for a good two minutes before I finally asked, “Did they ...?” my voice faded at the very thought he lost his family so brutally.

Van shook his head with a light shrug.

“No... they didn’t survive.” His eyes narrowed, and I completely understood why people found him scary. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to watch your wife beg you to save your little girl, while they both died in your arms?”

I shook my head, completely losing it.

“So, you see, I know what Jameson is going through. I know what it’s like to want to kill someone who puts your family in danger. Jameson has every right to feel every emotion he’s feeling. He may seem out of control and reckless as they say, but he has every right to feel that way.”

“Did they ever find the man?”

“No... but I did.” A slow, wicked grin formed. “Ms. Sway, there’s a reason why Phillip chose me as your bodyguard.” He let out a deep menacing chuckle, leaning back in the chair. His arms crossed over his chest.

Given my breakdown, it took me some time to comprehend, but the realization finally hit me with the way he said, “I did.”

“Van.” My eyes widened. “Holy shit, was that man Darrin?”

He didn’t answer right away, but eventually he found his voice. “It took me a while to figure out who he was, as I only got a glimpse of him. But when I hired a private investigator, we did some research, and it led back to Darrin Torres.” He looked up at me again. “Did you know who Kasey O’Neil was?”

“Yeah, he was that kid who was killed when the roll cage collapsed on him during a sprint car race.”

“There’s a little more to it than that. Darrin was racing in the USAC Silver Crown series about seven years ago with a driver named Kasey O’Neil, his father is Langley O’Neil, but, more importantly, Langley is my father-in-law. Kasey was my wife’s younger brother.” My eyes widened again. Shocked, alarmed, and dumbfounded, all emotions I was having. “Anyway, Darrin had it out for Kasey and ended up wrecking him that night. Kasey died on the way to the hospital, as you know. After that night, Langley threatened to sue Darrin for what he did. He believed that Darrin wrecked him on purpose and tampered with the roll cage, but no one had any proof as the video really couldn’t prove anything. Darrin went after my wife when Langley threatened him.”

“Jesus Christ!” I gasped. “How come you never went to the police when you found out it was him?”

“Because, just like Jameson, I felt prison was too easy. He’d get off on parole or something along those lines. I know the way the system works, max he’d get was twenty years... it wasn’t good enough.”

I swallowed; my throat was dry so I reached for my water beside the bed. “Were you there when Jameson found him?” Don’t think I didn’t see my opportunity to get answers, because I did. I knew Jameson would never tell me.

“I actually found him for Jameson. Jimi called shortly after Jameson left the hospital. He was scared as to where he went. It was the first I’d heard of the accident, and then Phillip called, too. That’s when I went looking and found Darrin having a beer. I called Jameson. He and Spencer showed up shortly after that.” As I listened to the events after my accident, I understood why Jameson reacted the way he did. “I would have taken care of him, but I knew what Jameson was feeling. Like I said, I know what it’s like to feel the out of control and reckless mindset. I didn’t care how it happened to him, I wanted revenge, and I got it.”

I didn’t feel the need for him to elaborate on exactly what happened. I knew by the way he said took care of it that he took care of Darrin, which made me happy.

If only I could have cut off his penis before that happened.

“I’m glad that you two made it through this.” Van’s voice was just above a whisper. “You don’t know how hard it is to go on without the other half of yourself. Eventually, you give up and become a distant version of yourself.”

It was strange how even the strongest of us have scars from our past that we carried with us. The initial cut may have healed, but the pain still lingered as a constant reminder of the wound that left its mark on you. You want to fix it, make it better, but sometimes you can’t.

We were all tattooed from head to toe with cracks, invisible bruises, scars, and even kisses. They all left their mark in some way, good or bad, shrouded in nothing but shadows or lit by the rays of the sun. Sometimes the consequences are too far below the surface for the eye to catch. And, other times, they revealed themselves in ways we never expected.

I watched as Van excused himself—feeling the pain for him having lost his entire family because of Darrin. I couldn’t understand how a man like Darrin had managed to escape retribution for so long, and how a woman like Mariah could stand by him knowing he was a monster. Maybe she didn’t see it, or maybe she was one, too.

The thing about our scars was how easily they were ripped open again. But I thought they could also teach one valuable lesson: What not to do again and what we’d made it through. It made us stronger really. It made us understand in a way.

I didn’t see Van again that night; I assumed it was too much for him, but I knew he was close by. He never went far.

I was pleasantly surprised when Jameson showed up at the hospital later that night around nine instead of the early morning hours.

Alley, Spencer, and Aiden came with him so it was nice to have some company other than Emma to annoy the shit out of me. Nothing like variety, right?

I thought Jameson would come into the room and relax, but he and Aiden started carrying in two guitars, drums, microphones, and an amplifier. He kissed me on the forehead, not saying anything, and then backed away, keeping his smirk at bay.

Once everything was set up, he smiled. “Now I know I’m no Dan Auerbach when it comes to American blues rock and the Black Keys, but I’ve done a lot of sucking up in order to do this for you... so... enjoy, honey,” Jameson said with a wink.

And then the sounds of “Need a New Man” and an electric guitar filled my room as Jameson played with elegant confidence and Aiden rocked out on the drums.

How they managed to get this equipment in the hospital was beyond me, but I was excited as hell. So was Emma, who bounced beside me.

He brought me my Black Keys concert and my fairytale back.

Jameson leaned into the microphone, looked up from his guitar, and began singing. He winked as a few nurses walked in to see what was going on. By the time he made it to the chorus, the room was filled with people cheering them on.

From blistering to scars, everything had taken a toll on us and now here we all were trying to make sense of this life.