Rush: Part One & Two (The Pitstop Series Book 3)

Present…

I feel foolish, so incredibly foolish. My legs refuse to help me walk, the embarrassment has taken over my whole body, and my mind is allowing every question and feeling about Gabriel to enter. I shake my head repeatedly to let go of the thoughts and emotions. Why did I have to say something? Why couldn’t I leave it alone? He has a girlfriend! But he was so affectionate… Anger settles in my chest, and it is directed at Gabriel. I am so mad at him for being a caring person.

Adrian walks into the living room, and the tears start streaming down my cheeks. “What the fuck did he do?” he asks and sits down on the couch next to me, wrapping his arms around me. I tell him what happened, and Adrian holds me close to him, comforting me. “Dickhead,” he whispers, and I laugh. “Say the word, and I’ll give him a black eye.” I sit up and look at my brother.

“No, I don’t want you to do that. I’m sorry for crying. I just had to let it out.” Adrian wipes away my tears and nods. The last thing either of us needs is for him and Gabriel not to get along. After all, they are going to have to work together for at least a year.

“Don’t apologize for sharing your emotions with me. I love you, and I would do anything for you,” he reminds me and presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I have to go to sleep, lots of packing to do tomorrow.” Adrian gets up but stops halfway to the stairs. “By the way, Gabriel is taking the same flight as us on Monday. So…” he trails off, and I roll my eyes. Fuck!

“Does that mean we have to go to the airport with him?” I ask, and Adrian chuckles.

“Yes, he lives a couple of houses over. It wouldn’t make sense to take two cars.” I groan and lean back on the couch. “Don’t worry, it will be okay. At least Kira is not coming,” he assures me, and I cock an eyebrow.

“How come she’s not coming? It’s the first race of the season!” I almost feel bad for Gabriel but dating her is his choice. Adrian shrugs before he leaves me to my thoughts.

My phone vibrates, and I decide to see who is texting me. James is asking me if I want to meet him tomorrow after I finish packing, and I let him know when to come over.

Something inside me doesn’t want to get out of bed when I wake up the next morning. My body is tired from only getting five hours of sleep and from the events of last night. Instead of dwelling on them, I pull the blanket off my body and saunter into my bathroom. I get ready, pack, and let James know when I’m done so he can come over.

He stands at my front door with yet another sunflower in his hand. I laugh, but he simply smiles brightly at me. “Hey, luv,” he greets and holds the flower out for me. I take it from him with a genuine grin on my face.

“Thank you.” He winks at me and leans down to press a kiss against my cheek. James always smells amazing: minty and woody, a combination I never thought would smell good. For as long as I can remember, I associate this smell with security.

“What do you want to do today?” he asks after I put the flower in the same glass as the first one that he brought me a week ago. To my surprise, it is still alive and blossoming. I shrug and look at James again. “Feel like boxing?” A smile spreads over my face, and I go upstairs to get the gloves and focus pads.

James puts on the focus pads first, and we move to the garden. The sun is hot, yet the grass is still wet. We are both barefoot. I’m hitting hard against the pads, and James is clearly having difficulty not asking what is bothering me. Eventually, he does open his mouth but just makes casual conversation. He asks me how I’m feeling about flying out tomorrow and how I am doing in general. We switch, and James starts to hit the pads.

“Gabriel called me yesterday. He was upset with me,” he says out of nowhere.

“What?” I ask and lower my hands, not realizing James would keep hitting. His hand reaches forward, and he punches the left side of my throat. I gasp for air immediately before ripping off the pads so I can wrap my hand around the ache.

“Oh my God, Val. I’m so sorry.” He gets closer to me, but I hold up one of my hands, still gasping for air. The area is burning with pain, and it starts throbbing almost immediately. It takes me a while to breathe evenly again, and James wraps a bag of ice around my throat. “I’m so sorry, darling, I’m so fucking sorry.” There is pain in his eyes, and it shows that hurting me brings him more agony than the physical one I am feeling.

“Don’t worry, I’m going to be fine.” My voice cracks, and he flinches. “You were telling me something,” I say to distract him. James shakes his head, his expression still filled with worry.

“Never mind, luv. Can I bring you anything else?” He reaches his hand out and runs the back of his fingers over my cheek. My heart skips a beat, and I am surprised by it.

“No, I’m fine, really,” I assure him, and he takes his hand back. “Please, tell me what Gabriel did,” I beg, and his expression becomes unreadable.

“He was upset about something, but I couldn’t understand him. It had something to do with work, but I’m not sure that’s why he was furious.” I wonder what possibly came over Gabriel, but my neck is distracting me. After a little while of complete silence, James’ phone lights up on the table, and I see his manager is calling him. He completely ignores it, still studying my injury.

“Go answer your phone,” I croak and press the device in his hand. He hesitates, and I glare at him. James lifts his hands and excuses himself to take the call. When he returns, an upset expression lingers on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he lies and sits down next to me again.

“If you have to leave, go. I will be fine, I promise,” I assure him, but he frowns.

“I’m not leaving you, especially not after I hurt you,” he says with a frustrated tone in his voice.

“We both know when your manager calls, you drop everything and go. So, I’m kicking you out of my house, and you better see what she wants,” I command, yet he hesitates again. “I’m alright. Go,” I tell him, and James nods. He gives me a swift kiss on the cheek, gathers his stuff, and leaves, but not before looking over his shoulder one more time.

My throat is burning. The ice eventually numbs my entire neck, and I have to put it down. Luckily, the pain and throbbing stop, but I wince when I look in the mirror. The mark is significant and a flaming red color. It runs from the middle of the left side of my throat to my collarbone. I shake my head, regretting it immediately.

“Val?” Adrian screams through the house. He sounds concerned, which makes me worry.

“In my room,” I inform him. Within seconds, he is in my door frame and running toward my bed.

“James told me what happened. Are you okay? Let me see,” he says and almost rips the ice pack from my throat. When I cry out, he mumbles, “Sorry,” and gently removes it. “Fuck, that’s bad,” he states, and I frown at him.

“Oh, is it? I hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles once again. “Is there anything I can do?” Adrian is still examining my throat, but I shake my head. All I want to do is get dinner ready and then go to bed.