A memory hit me hard as I sucked in a breath.
“You only want me after you’ve won a race, Malcolm. I want to know you want me all the time. Not just when you’re pumped up from winning.”
The memory of Casey flashing through my mind had me confused. I’d never thought of her when I was in a car. Never. This was my escape from all of that.
“Focus, Wallace! You’re sliding all over the fucking place.”
I shook my head to clear my thoughts.
“One to go. One. To. Go. Keep your line; you’re clear all the way. Twenty is dropping back.”
Is this fucking for real? My first race back and I’m going to win. Hell yes!
Coming out of turn four, I gripped the steering wheel like it was my lifeline. The checkered flag dropped and all I heard were cheers.
Dalton went crazy screaming in my ear. He finally settled down enough to say, “Welcome home, Malcolm. Welcome home.”
The words hit me like a brick wall.
Home.
Was this what I wanted? Week after week, racing around a track chasing after what? What in the hell was I running from? The ghost of a dead girlfriend? The rush that used to be better than sex? The drive to win no matter what the cost?
I pulled up and took the checkered flag as everyone stood on their feet. The feeling was amazing and I proved I could do it. I proved I could come back and win a race. Bad leg or not, I fucking did it.
But at what cost?
The interviews were over. The pictures done. I was exhausted and clearly limping on my leg. No one said a word. They didn’t even bother to ask, except for Dalton and I brushed it off as being stiff.
Walking up to the bus, I saw her standing there.
“Malcolm, it’s been a long time.”
With a nod, I kissed her on both cheeks. “It’s been a while, Kathleen.”
She smiled and motioned for the bus. “Shall we head inside?”
I knew what I was about to do was wrong, but I didn’t care. There wasn’t much I cared about anymore.
“PAISLIE? IS THAT YOU?”
Glancing up from my book, I saw Peter. “Peter Clarkson!” I finally remembered his last name. “Oh my gosh, is that you?”
With a nod of his head, I jumped up and walked into his arms. “It’s so good seeing you.”
He pulled back and laughed. “It’s been a while.” His eyes roamed over my body and lit up. “You haven’t changed a bit, Paislie. Still beautiful and still rocking a sinful body that caused me plenty of Our Fathers during confession.”
My cheeks warmed as his eyes grew darker. Peter had been my first, and boy did we have a past together.
“Stop it,” I said as I motioned for him to sit down.
He pulled the chair out and took a seat. I couldn’t help but notice his body. Holy hell . . . he must work out six hours a day to have a body like that.
“I can’t believe I ran into you. What a crazy small world,” he said with a smile that pulled something out from the past and hit me right smack in the face.
Lust.
Want.