Sway Bar – A bar used to resist or stabilize the rolling force of the car body through the turns.

 

The days following Jameson’s release from the hospital were not that enjoyable. Nothing when Jameson wasn’t racing was enjoyable. He made sure of that.

After we arrived back in Mooresville, where he lived with his parents, I called Charlie, my dad, to let him know I wouldn’t be home until a few days before the modified nationals. Though Jameson was now the owner of Grays Harbor Raceway, his hometown track in Elma, Washington, Charlie still kept up with the daily operation of it.

We knew that eventually Charlie wouldn’t be in any shape to run the track, but for now, having only months left after the brain cancer had spread, Charlie needed a distraction. Keeping Grays Harbor Raceway running was that distraction.

Though I felt I had obligations to Charlie back home, now Jameson needed me with him, too. He needed me here with him in Mooresville while he recovered. For one, he still wasn’t able to shower on his own, and he refused to let his mother help him with that task in any way, so that left me.

I was happy to oblige. Why wouldn’t I be?

Jameson was also one horny, dirty heathen by the time he was released. He counted, actually counted, that it had been five weeks and two days since we last had sex. He was not happy about that. If I was being honest, neither was I.

He complained he had a constant erection. Naturally, this made me happy. Again, why wouldn’t it? 

Aiden kindly kidnapped Emma and made her stay with him. After she bought Jameson the cougar, he refused to be in the same room with her.

Emma had officially pushed him off the deep end. He was now contemplating all the ways he could get her back and with all his free time now that he was laid up, this was not good for Emma.

By the time we made it back to his house the night he was released, it was late, around ten.

His parents were in Kansas, where Jimi was racing, leaving the house dark. Jameson was muttering something about cat footprints on his Mustang when I managed to get him inside the house, painkillers in hand and ready to administer. I wasn’t about to deal with Jameson for two weeks without drugs.

Two weeks was the time frame the doctor gave him until he would clear him again for racing. Then he still had to pass the NASCAR physical. As I said, I would not be doing this without painkillers.

Jameson was pissed when he found out he’d be missing the Bristol race—he loved short tracks. This also meant he had another two weeks before Atlanta. He was still pissed, but it made for a longer rest period that he needed.

We were getting settled in his room, which then brought us to sitting on his bed, then lying on it. You know how it works.

He shifted closer, his eyes focusing on mine, and I knew what he wanted.

When he kissed me, I sighed as his warm tongue found mine. Before long, his hand came up between us to cover my insanely huge chest. Even though they were big, they hurt like hell.

I pulled back reluctantly with a whimper of pain. “I don’t think this is such a good idea,” I told him. Inside, I thought it was a great idea.

Eyeing his chest, currently covered by his Simplex t-shirt, I knew what was underneath there. The idea suddenly seemed stupid.

“I know,” he admitted softly. “But you did promise me.”

How could I resist this?

“I don’t know. This is … are you sure?” I asked, watching him closely. “Jameson...”

“Please, honey,” he asked again, smirking, knowing he was getting to me.

“I know but...” I knew deep down that we shouldn’t but once I looked at him closely, I knew what he was really asking for. I couldn’t say no.

“We’ll be careful.” He breathed, pressing a kiss into my hair when I didn’t say anything.

Jameson had a way of convincing me to do just about anything he wanted, this was no different.

So I gave in. And we were careful despite our down-right needs.

 

“What kind of case do we even have against him besides what NASCAR will fine him?” my dad asked Phillip, our attorney.

“Not much of one, but we’ll see,” Phillip admitted. “I need to get with one of my associates and see what kind of case we can bring against him. I filed a restraining order, and we’re going for reckless endangerment.” I took in a deep breath as Phillip continued his speech. “The problem we run into is that, in the past, courts say that if you play a sport or get behind the wheel of a race car, you assume certain risks, inherent to the sport. They do that because they know, as well as the athlete, there are greater limits. For example, say a driver pissed you off on the freeway. You flip them off and nudge the back of their car, letting them know you’re pissed. They could potentially sue you and probably win. But if you were to do that on the race track, you’re protected under that inherent to the sport clause.”

“There’s a big difference between nudging and what Darrin did,” my dad roughly pointed out. His hard blue eyes furrowed in frustration.

“Whether or not Darrin will be held liable for injuring Jameson will depend on the courts and what they decide is fitting with the intentional goal of injury and whether or not the actions were inherent to the sport.” Phillip shook his head. “Darrin is claiming he wanted to make sure his shifter wasn’t broken and didn’t know you were still on the track.”

Jimi stood, his chair crashed against the wall.

I sat there, slouching in the black leather chair, my head bent forward. This was disgusting to hear. How could someone intentionally try to kill you and get away with it all because he or she was governed under the rules of the sport?

When you’re a professional athlete you assume there are risks involved so bringing a lawsuit against another driver is usually never done, and winning one was challenging.

Phillip stood, running his long fingers through his kept black hair once before looking over to me.

“Listen, Jameson, I know you want to see Darrin get what he deserves. I do, too. I’ve known you since you were two years old and to see that accident on TV, not knowing if you were okay,” he choked, his brow pulled together. “Let’s just say I was calling every favor in law I had to get Darrin locked up. He has rights, and sometimes those rights protect him, regardless of what he’s done. NASCAR has doubled his fine after further investigation from $50,000 to $100,000, and the suspension is still holding. He would be allowed to compete in the Winston Cup Series again next year but will be on probation for the entire season.”

“What about other divisions? Jameson sometimes steps into those cars from time to time for Billings Racing. Is Darrin suspended in those as well?” Kyle asked, leaning forward.

“Yes, he’s suspended from all three series, as well as any NASCAR sanctioned track.”

Phillip left a few minutes after that, leaving Kyle, Jimi, and me sitting in our large conference room.

Kyle nudged my arm. “We need to be at your shop by ten as we have a few drivers to meet.”

 

Interviewing drivers who would be driving my car at my favorite track was not exactly a pleasant experience for me. It was like interviewing men to take your wife on a date. No one would be good enough in my eyes.

Justin drove the car at Indianapolis and did exceptionally well for never being in a cup car before, finishing thirteenth. Unfortunately, his prior commitments wouldn’t allow him to race the car at Watkins Glen and Michigan, so here I was interviewing.

Kyle handed me a resume. Scanning it cursorily, I turned my head lazily to glance at him sideways. “I hate doing this.”

 “This next guy is racing on the World of Outlaws for Quincy Saller,” Kyle told me, ignoring my poor attitude. “Sway actually recommended him to Justin. They’ve been racing together for the last year.”

My eyes shifted when the driver walked into the race shop. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting when he walked in. I guess appearances don’t dictate a driver’s ability, but this guy looked like a total douche to me and belonged in a boy band. His shaggy blond hair looked like he tried to create the just woke up look.

Please. If you have to try to do it, you shouldn’t.

Besides the hair, what sent me into a state of complete raging lunacy was when I heard him tell Kyle and my dad his name.

Mike Tanner.

I may not have the best memory in the world, but I remembered exactly who Mike Tanner was.

Sway had the fucking nerve to recommend him.

I felt the twinge of jealousy rush through me that this was the guy she’d slept with last. I wanted to kill him. I didn’t care if this guy was the best fucking wheelman around. He was not racing my fucking car. That much I did settle on during the thirty-minute interview. I didn’t hear a word Dad and Kyle said to him.

Unfortunately, for me, an hour later, I found myself escorting him through the shop to fill out a background check.

“How long have you been racing?” I asked coldly, unlocking the door to the office. The keys clanked together breaking the silence.

It was clearly a dumb question considering I had his resume in my hands—hands that were currently trembling as I tried to control my raging anger. All I could focus on was that he slept with Sway.

“Since I was nine,” Mike answered, following closely.

I nodded. “I hear you’re on the Outlaw tour?”

“Yeah, for the last year.” We passed by my office heading to the main office at the end of the hall. “I was racing outlaw later models prior to that.”

“How...” my voice faded when I didn’t hear footsteps behind me.

Mike had stopped by the door to my office, gazing toward a photograph of Sway and I that I had framed in the hallway. It was from my last win in Loudon on my birthday.

When I cleared my throat, Mike began walking again.

“How long have you known Sway Reins?”

“A while,” I answered, dryly.

“I’ve gotten to know her over the years,” he told me with a confidence I wanted to wipe from his smug face. “We’re good friends.”

“I doubt that,” I mumbled. My jaw clenched tightly when his arms crossed over his chest insolently. “Is this about racing or Sway?”

“I think you know it’s about both,” he had the nerve to reply.

I shook my head and glowered at him, my body tensed. “Sway is none of your concern.”

Mike laughed darkly appearing relaxed. “You know ...” He stepped toward me and gestured with a nod at the photograph. “I can see how a small town girl like Sway Reins was able to tame Rowdy Riley.” He winked at me. “She gives good head.”

I lunged for him, broken bones and all.

I had every intention of kicking the living shit out of him. I curled my one good fist tightly, which was tough considering I was left handed, and landed a punch into his jaw that cracked loudly.

Now it wasn’t a fair fight at all. There I was—broken ribs, broken collarbone, broken arm, and a wrist that was in a cast.

What helped me out was when I ripped the sling off and used my plaster cast as a weapon. It worked in my favor. Caused an ungodly amount of pain, but it was effective.

I caught him off guard. His head snapped back at the force of my one-hundred-and-ninety-pound body hitting his stomach as my right shoulder took the blunt force of the impact.

“Don’t ever talk about Sway!” I growled inches from his ear, pulling him back and then slamming his back against the wall once more.

Mike struggled against me, which wasn’t hard to do. I was hardly in any condition to be fighting, and I was already feeling the burn and sharp pains traveling through my entire left side. I knew I would be paying for this tonight.

He surprised me when his fist rose and, before I could react, he punched me once in the jaw. I stumbled back, saw stars, but he wasn’t getting away. One shot was all he was getting before I was completely on top of him pounding the fuck out of him with my one good hand and effective use of my cast.

“Get off me, Riley!” he shouted, attempting to defend himself.

Mike wasn’t a large guy, maybe one-sixty, so I had weight on him, but considering I was impaired by broken bones, he easily threw me off.

By this time, Spencer, who was in the race shop, heard the commotion and was instantly holding me back against the wall.

Mike stumbled and stood leaning against the wall for support, surrounded by the broken glass of the picture frames that once hung on the walls. Blood dripped from his nose to the white tile floor beneath him.

“Look, I’m sure she thinks you being all possessive is what turns her on.” He reached up to wipe the blood from his nose, smearing it over his cheek. “What girl doesn’t want to feel wanted? She was a good lay. Flexible, if I remember correctly.” He smirked, clearly amused.

“Fuck you. And you can forget about driving my car!” I hollered as Spencer shoved me back against the wall, pinning me to it with his forearm across my throat.

Mike’s eyes shifted from the floor, around the hallway, and then back to me. “You can’t keep her happy and you know it,” he said, quietly before a twisted smile formed.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I growled, struggling against Spencer and fighting to get to Mike. My body shook so badly I thought I was about to erupt.

Mike’s eyes narrowed slightly before taking a step back and walking out.

“What’s the matter, not up for the competition these days?” Spencer asked, letting me go.

I winced adjusting my sling. “Shut up,” I barked, walking into my office and slamming the door. “You have no idea what you are talking about.”

Spencer followed, sticking his head inside with a grin. “So that’s a no on Tanner?”

With all the force I could muster, I grabbed the laptop from my desk and flung it toward the door. I could hear his booming laughter.

Whether I wanted to admit this or not, inside, I was that twenty-three-year-old kid I claimed I wasn’t, and I was acting as such.

My temper hadn’t improved at all.

Another one of my stupid ideas while pissed was the idea to destroy my office in my fit of rage.

I was pissed; beyond pissed.

Had Sway slept with him recently? It was a thought I couldn’t stop myself from thinking.

I wouldn’t think she would do something like that. Not my Sway. Nevertheless, the paranoid part of me was unsure.

It wasn’t supposed to be this way between us.

We were supposed to be moving forward and not having doubts. This was the happily ever after part. There shouldn’t be fighting and fear.

There was because of me.

I trusted Sway. I trusted her with everything I had and wouldn’t doubt anything she told me, until now. Maybe I was jealous. Of course, I was fucking jealous. I wouldn’t lie.  

How could I not be? He slept with her.

When I walked inside his destroyed office, I didn’t know what to expect.

I thought Jameson was angry when I left him in Sonoma that night, but this ghastly temper flaring in front of me was something I’d never seen before, and I’ve seen some interesting temper tantrums from him.

In all the years I’ve known him, I’d never seen this side of him.

“Are you okay?” I asked with a justifiable amount of hesitation.

“Did you fuck him?” I could see his chest heaving even from behind as he rested his head against the cabinet.

Not the question I was expecting at all.

“What?” I gasped.

With his back to me, his palms swiped down his face and over his eyes before he spun around to face me, his head lifted arrogantly. “You heard me,” he growled back. His voice heated, and his eyes were that cold ice jade color he got when he was so irate he couldn’t see straight. “Did you?”

I’ve seen this look a time or two in the past but had never been on the receiving end to understand why Tommy called it the “Death Stare.”

“I already told you that.” I was trying to remain calm, but I couldn’t help my voice from trembling. Never in my life had I ever been scared of Jameson, until now.

“Goddamn it, Sway!” he shouted. “I mean recently.” His hand swept across the counter, knocking a glass against the wall. It shattered on impact, shards of glass spread throughout the room just as sharp as his voice. “Did you?”

Now I was pissed.

Here I was, almost three months pregnant with his child, and he was accusing me of cheating on him.

“What the fuck are you talking about?” I could feel a blush of anger creep across my face.

Jameson glared, his head tilted slightly as if this was meant to be a warning of some sort, and stepped toward me. “Did you fuck him? He said you gave him head.”

“My God, Jameson!” I hollered, losing control. “I never asked you about the sluts who sucked your dick before us. What would make you think I would tell you who I did? Isn’t that frowned upon in relationships?”

“No one ever has!” he shouted back, his face turning puce with infuriating anger that briefly overpowered the slur.

“Come again?”

He stepped closer with nothing more than harsh breathing and silent words for a moment. Wounded green eyes fringed by dark lashes settled on my face, studying me with an unnerving intensity. “I have never let another woman suck my dick,” he seethed slowly, articulating each word with a careful, quiet potency.

Jameson’s eyes searched mine as I grasped the meaning behind his words.

“Well then,” was my only response.

His right hand cupped my cheek. I flinched away—too angry that he’d basically accused me of cheating on him. He didn’t let me get away. Instead, he raised my chin, forcing me look at him. His eyes glowered.

“I’m only going to ask you this once. I will know if you’re lying to me,” he paused and swallowed, seeming to choose his next words carefully as his eyes held mine, anger brewing. “Have you been with anyone else since we got together?”

Part of me, the hormonal pregnant part, wanted to tell him to fuck off for even insinuating such a thing, but the other part, that part that was irrevocably in love with this man, wanted to answer him.

I chose the latter and went with the stubborn approach. “I can’t believe that you would even ask me a question like that. Do you not trust me at all?” I didn’t wait for his response before heading toward the door.

“Sway... wait,” he pleaded, his voice was softer but still sharp with anger. “I’m sorry. Please, just... don’t go.”

“No, Jameson!” It was my turn to shout again. “You don’t get to apologize right now asshole. You don’t get to basically call your pregnant girlfriend a whore and apologize not more than a minute later!” I ran out of the office, slamming the door behind me.

Once I reached his car, I was in tears.

My heart was aching, feeling like it’d been torn in two once again by this man. The saddest part about that whole thing was even though he was the one who hurt me, he was also the one person who could put me back together.

Jameson was always there to fix anything. Like the night I lost my virginity to Dylan Grady. The next night when Dylan refused to look at me, Jameson picked up the pieces and, Christ, were there a lot of pieces to gather.

I spent the night drinking and singing “Total Eclipse of the Heart” at the top of my lungs at least four times, drank an entire twenty-four pack of beer, asked Emma to be a lesbian with me and then vomited all over Spencer at least twice.

When I began my fifth solo of the song, Jameson politely told me I sounded like a dying cat and took my beer away. I can laugh about it now, but I really was pathetic.

What wasn’t pathetic, was the boy who glued me together by holding me that night while I cried it out.

Being in love is a strange thing. Even when you hate the person for saying or doing something, you don’t stop loving them. You may want to or even go as far to say you won’t, but when you love them, truly love them, it never goes away.

It couldn’t be shut off or even avoided. Just like engine failure, once it’s certain, nothing can stop it. All you could do is go with it and try to counteract any after effects.

 

“Damn it!” My hand once again slipped off the ratchet wrench.

Jimi, who’d been watching up until this point, laughing, set his whiskey on the tool cart and walked over.

“What are you doing, dipshit? That’s not how you do it,” he said, hovering over me. I could feel his warm whiskey breath on my neck. I knew how to do this shit being around sprint cars my entire life. I also knew my World of Outlaw dad, the one who grew up doing this shit himself, knew too. We just didn’t have the same techniques.

“Jesus, I know what I’m doing,” I snapped, adjusting the wrench I was using to change out the brakes on Justin’s sprint car, with a broken wrist. I was still angry, but at least I could form coherent words. More than anything, I felt like shit having yelled at Sway.

“Obviously not.” He took the wrench from me and proceeded to show me his way.

“There’s more than one way to do this, you know.”

“No, there’s one way, and then there is bullshit.” His eyebrows rose, challenging me. “Guess which one you’re doing right now?”

I snapped and ripped the brake pad off, hurling it across the shop. The metal from the brake scraped against the concrete floor until it smashed against the sidewall.

My dad laughed. “How’d that work out for you?” he asked, tossing the wrench toward the tool cart and walking back to his whiskey. “You know, I’m not sure exactly what happened between you and Sway this afternoon, but you need to fix it.”

“Don’t you think I fucking know that?” I snapped back at him.

“If you fucking know that,” he mocked, widening his eyes, “why are you still here doing something that can easily be done by Tommy and going all batshit when I try and help your broken ass?”

I shook my head, letting it fall forward against the top wing of the car. I’d fucked up tremendously, yet again.

“I don’t even know where she went,” I groaned. “For all I know, she flew home.”

My dad laughed one sarcastic, patronizing laugh. “You’re dumber than you look. She’s sitting outside in the same place she’s been for the last two hours. Crying.”

“What?”

“She never left, dumbass.” He headed for his office again. “She’s been sitting in the car outside. By the way,” he stopped short of the door looking over his shoulder at me, “We chose Warner Leddy to drive for you.”

I think I offered some sort of head nod but not much else before I ran outside. Well, I tried, and I was in noticeably bad shape considering I think I re-broke a few bones with the hallway brawl.

Once outside, I saw her sitting in my Mustang. Her arms were draped over the steering wheel with her face leaned against it.

She hadn’t left, though she had every right to. I yelled at her and accused her of something she’d never do—she should have left. However, that wasn’t Sway. She wouldn’t leave me, no matter what I put her through; she was there for me even when she shouldn’t be.

How many times was I going to break her heart? How many more times would she forgive me?

When I opened the passenger door, she jumped but didn’t look up, so I climbed in. We sat there, Sway crying, me tugging at my hair, not saying a word.

I’ve done a lot of fucked up shit in my life, but this doesn’t even compare. The guilt I felt, listening to her cry, was maddening.

So there I sat, listening to the woman who owned my heart and soul cry because I broke hers once again. She trusted me with everything and again, I let her down. She loved me, and I hurt her.

What would I even say to apologize for something like that?

I basically accused my pregnant girlfriend of cheating on me when I knew damn well she’d never do something like that, ever.

Sway sniffled after a few minutes and turned her head to look at me, her eyes red, swollen, and still full of the love I didn’t deserve, but she gave it to me unconditionally.

She spoke first. “Not that I ever wanted to have this conversation, but we’re going to.”

“What conversation?” I asked, my voice unusually horse, fearing the worst.

“We’re going over the roster.” I could tell this was not something she wanted to do, but for her sanity, she needed to.

I, on the other hand, was sick to my stomach instantly thinking of anyone who had ever touched Sway in the ways I had.

Her hand reached out to touch me softly. The instant her skin touched mine, I felt calmer, well, a little calmer. I was not prepared for this.

“I lost my virginity to Dylan Grady when I was sixteen in the back of my truck at Elma during one of your races,” she confessed. “It was horrible. He was rough and it hurt.”

This is worse than I thought.

My stomach lurched remembering why she disappeared that night. “I’m glad I smashed it with a fucking tree,” I muttered, looking out the window.

Sway chuckled lightly. The sound brought me back to the conversation.

“He never talked to me again.”

“I’m going to kill him the next time I see him.” I knew he never talked to her again, and I was sure it had something to do with me breaking his jaw, but it didn’t stop the fact that I wanted to kill him now.

“The next time was with Cooper.”

I knew about him, too. I remembered him taking her to the senior prom. I was off racing in California that night.

I pulled at my hair once more. This was harder than I thought it was going to be because we grew up with all these guys. I could have been that guy all along, but no, I’m just a stubborn fucker who thought she was too good for me. Judging by my recent behavior, I was absolutely correct.

“And then there was Mike.”

I groaned, unable to hear anymore.

“So let’s hear it.” She turned toward me.

“Sway...” I shook my head. This was not something I even admitted to myself, let alone Sway.

“No, Jameson.” Her eyes focused on mine, pleading. “I will not be surprised when someone comes up to me and says they slept with my boyfriend.”

I was sure she didn’t want to hear this at all. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

After a long moment of silence, I decided to be honest with her and myself. “The first was Chelsea in high school, after that night we spent up at Dayton Peak, and you left with Cooper.” I watched her face fall with disappointment. “I only slept with her once.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, it was horrible.” I sighed, running my hand over my jaw. “The rest I don’t really remember. I’m not sure I even know how many.”

“Ballpark figure then?”

Knowing my past, I didn’t want to say. It was embarrassing.

“Thirty, maybe.” I was expecting her to gasp or something, but her facial expression never changed. Thirty was probably a lie, too. I honestly had no idea. It wasn’t like I was keeping track of the nameless fillers. Deep down, I knew the number was closer to fifty, but I couldn’t say it. I was disgusted with myself for that time in my life.

“Ashley?” she asked.

“Yes, once,” I admitted, trying to block out the thoughts.

“Dana?”

“Never.” A shudder ran through me at the thought of that peppy stalker close to me.

“Mariah?”

“Never.” My eyes met hers again. “I wasn’t lying. I never slept with that woman, regardless of what she tells everyone.”

“Anyone I may run into at the track?”

“Not besides Ashley. The rest were random fans I guess, or a few women from bars around the tracks we stopped at. I wasn’t lying to you when I said that woman in Vegas last April was the last. Up until you, I’ve never slept with the same woman twice. Nor have I ever gone without a condom... besides with you.”

Sway nodded as a tear slid down her cheek. “I hate that you thought I would sleep with Mike again.” Her eyes dropped.

I hung my head in shame. “I’m so fucking sorry. That was... I don’t even know what to call myself for that. I was a fucking idiot.”

“Did you really think I would do that?”

“No... but my judgment was clouded.”

“I would never cheat on you, Jameson.”

I nodded, fearing the look in her eyes because I knew once again she’d forgiven me for being an asshole when she shouldn’t. “You deserve so much better than me, Sway.”

“Don’t ever accuse me of cheating on you, ever.”

“I won’t. Just don’t give up on me yet.” I leaned over, trying to maneuver myself to be able to touch her, but it didn’t work. Instead, I groaned in pain. Sway, of course, reached out to me.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I think I need to go rest.”

“Okay, let’s go home.”

She started my car, and though no one had ever driven my Shelby GT 500 Mustang besides me, I knew she could do it; amazingly, I wasn’t having a heart attack when she missed second gear.

Other than that one slip, Sway could drive the car damn near as well as me. What really calmed me down was when Sway turned up the radio to a country song knowing I’d sing for her.

“You want me to sing for you?”

She didn’t say anything, just sighed contently, and leaned her head back against the seat.

My voice was gravelly baritone, and I didn’t have that certain twang needed for country, but I made up for it with a drawl I knew she loved.

 

I was relieved to see everyone was gone when we got back to my parent’s house. I didn’t need another lecture from my dad, and if I saw Spencer or Emma again today, I wasn’t sure how well I’d deal with their shit when I had my own drowning me.

“This is nice,” Sway said, getting inside the warm tub with me after lighting the candles I had in here from the last time we took a bath. The only light coming in was the flickering of candles shadowed by the moonlight.

“Is this okay? I mean, can you still take baths?” I was already leaned against the side, covered up to my chest in the water. My left arm rested on the side since I couldn’t submerge it yet.

“Yeah, I read that book What to Expect When Expecting when you were in the hospital. It said to be careful in hot tubs and saunas.”

“But the salt is okay?”

“Salt?” She grinned. “What are you doing below the water there?”

“Not my salt.” I laughed. “I poured Epsom salt in here. It helps when you have broken bones.”

“Oh, that. Yes, it’s okay.” Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. “It’s actually really good to keep infections away.”

“Come over here, honey.” I motioned for her to sit between my legs.

“Are you sure that’s a good idea? You look like you’re in pain.” Her hand reached up to graze over the purplish bruises forming from the ribs I was positive were broken again.

I gave a half-hearted smile. “I am in pain. I hurt you again.”

Believe me, I was in excruciating fucking pain from my ribs, but nothing compared to the heartache I was feeling making her cry today.

“It’s okay. I understand how bad that must have looked since I sent Mike over there.”

“Why did you?” You couldn’t miss the curiosity in my voice.

“Justin asked if I knew of any other drivers. I said I knew Mike Tanner. I had no idea that he was asking if I knew of any other drivers to race your car. I would have never suggested him.”

“That makes me feel better.”

“He’s nothing compared to you behind the wheel, that’s for sure.”

“Really? What else am I better at?”

“Everything... not that you need your ego stroked.”

“Stroking is good.”

“You’re the best I’ve ever had,” she cooed, her eyes holding mine. Her expression changed. “I’m curious now, though. Am I really the only one that’s ever...” Her eyes drifted south.

“Yes,” I assured her with a chuckle. “I was a virgin to that.”

“Why?” Her questioning eyes melted into mine.

“I’ve always thought oral sex was intimate. I never wanted something like that from anyone I didn’t trust completely. Women tried, don’t get me wrong. They went for it, but I always pulled them away.”

“So you let me because...”

“I don’t think you understand the power you have over me.” I smiled, weakly. “Even though I don’t deserve you, I trust you more than anyone else in this world. You own me—my heart, my soul; it’s yours, all of it. So, yes, you are the only one who I share those personal experiences with, and I don’t talk about them with anyone,” I hinted.

“I don’t tell people, I promise.”

“I know. I just... we need to be careful about our relationship and the personal details we tell others. They will do anything to use it against us.”

She sighed contently and snuggled against my arm. I reached down further and placed my hand against her stomach.

“I love you,” I whispered into her damp hair. Her hand slipped into my hand, our fingers intertwined together. “I want to take you some place tomorrow.”

Sway bent forward to add more hot water to our cooling bath. “Where?”

“Our house.”

Sway looked confused for a moment and then motioned to the room around us. “We are in your house. Did you bump your head today?” Her fingertips grazed over the bruise forming over my left eyebrow from the hallway brawl, then touched softly to my fat lip.

“No, not this house.” I smiled. “Our house... the one I’m having built.”

“What do you mean our house? That’s your house?”

“No it’s not.” My voice softened. “Sway, me, you, and this baby... we’re a family now.” I laughed softly. “I know I haven’t asked you to marry me yet, but I still consider us a family. That house is ours.”

Sway started crying again. “I... you... I... are you... sure?” she hiccupped.

“I’ve never been more sure, honey.”

“Where do you want to live... like in the off season?”

I drew her closer again. Carefully she lay back against my chest. As though it had a mind of its own, my hand instinctively went to her stomach underneath the water. “I was thinking this year we should stay in Elma... for Charlie. Next year, we’ll see how things go. The house will be done the first week in December.” I kissed along her neck. “We should probably look for a home in Elma soon.”

I knew with Charlie being sick, Sway would want to stay close to him and for good reason. We also had a lot to figure out over the off-season with the track and the baby coming in the late winter.

“That would be nice,” Sway agreed, her toes wiggling on the edge of the tile, playing with the knobs on the faucet.

It was nice being able to talk about the future when, not more than two hours ago, I thought for sure she’d left me. Placing my lips at her ear, I let them graze against her as I spoke. “I love you, Sway.”

“I love you, too.” She turned, capturing my lips with her own, balancing me in ways I could never explain, as they were unidentified to even me.