What Came After
This is bonus material, intended as a supplement to Getting Sideways, not as a stand-alone. If you haven’t read that book, it won’t make sense to you. I wrote this scene to satisfy my own curiosity when I realized I had to know what happened between Race and Kasey after their big fight. I’ve included that scene (from Cody’s point of view) for those who haven’t read it in a while, but you can scroll past it if you like. All you need to know going in to this is that the previous day, Kasey gave Race a gift certificate for a set of tires as a birthday present, embarrassing him in front of his friends.
***************
That night it was Kasey’s turn to cook, but she stayed after hours at the shop. By the time I realized she wouldn’t to be home to fix something before I had to leave for karate, it was too late to do it myself. I was thinking about nuking a frozen burrito when the Charger pulled up out front.
“I’m sorry about dinner,” Kasey said as she came through the front door. “I got caught up in the AMX engine and forgot about your karate lesson. But I ordered a pizza before I left the shop. It should be here any minute.”
That AMX was becoming a real pain in the butt. The owner, some rich guy, wanted to give it to his kid for Christmas, and Kasey was determined to have it ready, even though stuff kept going wrong.
She hurried off to fix a salad, so it was Race who answered the door and paid when the delivery girl arrived. As he took the pizza to the kitchen and set it on the table, humming Silent Night, Kasey ducked around him, depositing plates and silverware.
“Let me give you some money for that,” she said.
The humming stopped. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, really.” Kasey finished sticking napkins at each place setting and reached into her pocket to pull out a twenty.
A faint scowl flickered across Race’s face. “Put that away.”
“Just take it. You already gave me money for groceries this month.” She held the neatly folded bill out to him.
Ignoring it, Race pulled back a chair and sat down. “I don’t want it. You’re always rushing to cover everything. Maybe I’d like to pay for something for a change.” He pried open the Track Town box and helped himself to a slice.
“When will you realize it doesn’t matter?” Kasey asked.
“When will you realize it does?”
Apprehension raised a flock of goose bumps on my arms. Crap, I hoped they weren’t going to get into it again. I risked a quick glance at Race as I slid into a chair, piling pizza on my plate and hoping Kasey would have the sense to let it go. Smart as she was, she could be awfully dense when it came to his pride. If she understood why he resisted her romantic overtures, why didn’t she understand this?
Kasey stuffed the twenty into her pocket and sat down. Quietly, she dished herself some salad and passed the bowl to me. We made it through two-thirds of the pizza without anyone speaking. I figured the whole thing might quietly fade away, then Kasey had to make one last comment.
“I’m sorry, Race. I know this is hard on you. I just wish you could see the practicality of letting me help out. I’m fortunate to have the money, and I don’t mind spending it. You shouldn’t let it get to you.”
“I shouldn’t let it get to me,” Race muttered, dropping a pizza crust onto his plate.
My scalp prickled, and I shrank down in my chair.
“That’s right,” Kasey said, too stubborn to see he was about as stable as nitroglycerin right now. “It’s not important.”
Race stared down at the remains of his dinner. “Maybe you shouldn’t trivialize how I feel about it.”
“I’m not. I just think—”
“What—that I’m a loser who oughta suck it up and accept your charity?” Race’s eyes cut upward, skewering her across the table. “That I’m so pathetic you have to put tires on my van?”
The words halted Kasey’s hand as she attempted to stab an artichoke in her salad. I held my breath. Just drop it, I thought. Apologize while it still might make a difference.
“Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me?” Race demanded. “It’s bad enough I can’t provide for myself. You don’t need to go announcing it to my friends.”
Sighing, Kasey laid down her fork. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. I intended to give you the gift certificate when we got home. Cody didn’t realize and brought it to the restaurant.” She glanced in my direction, but the look was regretful, not accusing. I withered under it anyway. Why did she have to go pulling me into the argument?
“You have no business giving me something like that,” Race said. “It’s inappropriate!”
“How else was I going to get you to accept what needed to be done?”
Oh boy.
A shiver of ice snaked down my back as I was sucked into the past, where Mom was tearing Dad a new one, and I was hoping I wouldn’t be next. I braced for the inevitable explosion as Race let out a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a growl.
“Why don’t you let me worry about what needs to be done. It’s my van.”
“And Cody drives it,” Kasey said. “Your tires aren’t safe. Do you really think you should be endangering him like that?”
My stomach went into lockdown. Please, just stop. Don’t do this in front of me. They never had before—at least not like this—and I didn’t know why they were now. Unless they were both just so worked up they didn’t care.
The look Race gave Kasey could’ve sliced through steel, but he said nothing.
“I knew you wouldn’t be happy about this,” Kasey continued, “but it was something I had to do. Last year I put your pride before my good sense when I decided against buying you a helmet. I’ve regretted it ever since.”
“That was not your responsibility,” Race said, his voice cold as stone. He shoved away from the table, strode to his room, and returned with the Les Schwab certificate.
“Here.” He tossed the envelope so hard it spun across the table. “I don’t want it. Cody’ll have his license in a few weeks. He can wait till then to drive.”
That’s right. I’d wait a whole damn year if it would get them to stop fighting.
“You’re overreacting.” Kasey’s tone was calm, but her eyes didn’t back up that composure.
“There you go, trivializing again.”
“I’m not trivializing.”
“Yes, you are!”
I cringed as Race snatched up the remains of the pizza, yanked open the refrigerator, and jammed the box inside. Part of me screamed at myself to get up and leave, but a lifetime of dealing with Mom kept me pinned to my seat, afraid to twitch a muscle.
“It’s my own damned fault,” he muttered. “I should’ve put a stop to this months ago.”
“Race—”
“I can’t keep doing this, Kasey.” His voice rose over hers as he plucked the salad dressing off the table and stuffed it in the door of the fridge. “I wanted to wait until after the holidays, but you’re forcing my hand. You’re my friend, not my girlfriend. It’s time Cody and I found a place of our own.”
“I—” Kasey began.
I jumped when Race jerked my plate away, taking my pizza with it. No doubt I’d become invisible, or he never would’ve risked getting between me and my dinner. Not that I wanted it. At the moment, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to eat again.
“There’s nothing you can say,” Race said as he picked up his plate and dropped it on top of mine. “We’ll be out of here by the end of the week.”
Kasey reached for a napkin, her hands trembling as she wiped pizza sauce from them. “If you want me to accept this, you’ll have to give me a reason.”
“I just did.”
The napkin crimped into a ball in Kasey’s clutch. “No, you gave me an ambiguity. I want to know why you can’t keep doing this. What exactly is it that makes it so hard for you to live here?” Now she was the one with the razor-sharp stare, but Race ignored it. He grabbed her plate and smacked it down on top of his.
“We’ve been through this,” he said as he took the dishes to the sink.
“No. We haven’t. Whenever I confront you, you say, ‘you know why’. If it’s that important, own up to it. You owe me that much.”
Whoa. Kasey might be stupid for starting this whole mess, but I had to admire the way she stuck to her guns. And in spite of how shook up I felt, a tiny sliver of my brain was intrigued, wondering what Race would do if she backed him into a corner he couldn’t escape from.
He shoved the faucet lever on full and hosed off the plates, spattering the countertop. He stayed quiet so long I thought he was going to duck out of answering yet again.
“I can’t go on living with you and just being friends,” he finally admitted. The anger that had knotted his jaw shifted into something softer. Something sadder.
“And why can’t we be more than friends?” she asked. “You used to want that.”
Race clanked the plates down on the counter and turned to face her. “What I want doesn’t have anything to do with it. If you settle for me, I’ll hold you back. And before you go jumping to conclusions, this has nothing to do with last summer. You’ve always outclassed me.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true.” Race opened the dishwasher, yanked out the clean silverware, and began tossing it haphazardly into a drawer. “You can do better. You deserve better.”
Kasey’s eyes sparked and her fist clenched the balled-up napkin. “Just who do you think you are, telling me who I should love?”
The venom in her tone paralyzed Race. He froze with a handful of butter knives.
“Do you think I’m only capable of caring for someone more successful than I am? Someone with a prestigious degree, or a huge stock portfolio? Do you think those are the only things worthy of my admiration?”
Stunned, Race stared at her. I was just as shocked. I couldn’t believe they were finally telling each other how they felt, even if it was in an all-out verbal brawl.
“Damn it, Race, I love you!” Kasey’s voice was fierce. “I love you because you’re the kindest, most thoughtful person I know, and because you make me smile. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. That ought to count for something.”
Silence.
Race gaped, still clutching the knives. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, then he blinked and looked down into the silverware drawer.
“I know this hasn’t been easy,” Kasey said. “I have nothing but admiration for the way you’ve handled your challenges. But I can’t just let you walk away. Tell me what it takes to be part of your life. Give me some way to help with this.”
“You help too much,” Race mumbled, turning back to the dishwasher. “You gave me a job. You gave me a place to live. You fixed things so I could keep Cody. Everything I have, I have because of you.”
“I didn’t do it out of pity.”
“I know that. But successful relationships are supposed to be equal, and I’m not your equal.”
Kasey’s lips started to form an argument. Then her eyes widened, like it finally clicked—like for the first time she understood how degraded her handouts made Race feel. “I’m sorry. That’s not how I see it.”
“It’s how I see it.” He pulled a couple of plates from the dishwasher, keeping his back to her.
“So what do I have to do to balance things out? Fire you? Throw you out on the street? What will it take to make you feel you can love me?”
Race gripped the cupboard door and studied the countertop for several long seconds. When he spoke, his voice caught and then faded to a hoarse whisper. “Love—is not the problem.”
Kasey peered at him across the room, her expression so raw and desperate it felt invasive to be witnessing it. “Then what do you want me to do?”
The clock ticked in the silent kitchen. Race sighed and rested his head against the edge of the cabinet door, not even attempting an answer.
A switch flipped inside me, and the paralysis that had locked me in place evaporated. I looked questioningly at Kasey. When she nodded toward the living room, I got up and slipped away.
Behind me, her chair scraped softly against the linoleum.
“I want a real relationship with you, Race,” she said, her voice full of the steel that made her who she was. “And I intend to do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
***************
And this, from Race’s perspective, is what happened afterward . . .
***************
Sighing, Race pulled into the driveway and turned the key. The dull throbbing in his head, which began at dinner, had progressed into a spiking ache. Starbursts of pain now flared through his skull. A stage two headache for sure on the personal scale he’d developed to rate them.
It was the headache that had made him get up and leave Denny’s cozy dining room table. He’d been dealing with the damned things long enough to know this one would hit stage three before long. That would make driving miserable, especially at night, with all those headlights glaring in his eyes. A stage three headache would plow through his carefully erected barriers, compelling him to take Vicodin and hole up in a dark, quiet room for the duration.
For a long moment Race sat in the van, listening to rain tap out a metallic melody on the roof. When he’d left the house after the blow-up with Kasey, he hadn’t known where he was going. He’d driven around town for over an hour, then found himself heading down Denny’s street. Denny’s house had been a refuge when Race was a kid, but in spite of all that had happened since June, he hadn’t taken advantage of that sanctuary much lately. It was easier to plaster a grin on his face and pretend everything was okay.
Race had never been much of a complainer. Before the wreck, things hadn’t really gotten to him, and now, he hated to hear himself whine. Besides, there were other people to think about. Kasey didn’t need any extra burdens and Cody—well, the kid was a born worrier. The last thing Race wanted to do was add fuel to his fire.
At any time in the past five months, Race could’ve talked to Denny about his secret fears, about the feeling of loss he got whenever his fingers failed him. But somehow he hadn’t been able to. Denny would have listened—hell, he’d have been glad to listen. But talking would have made it too real. Talking would’ve made Race feel broken, and he couldn’t stand to think of himself that way.
Amazingly, the visit tonight had lasted almost three hours. It was the first time in months he’d spent that much time with Denny without working on a race car. Sandy had been at work, and the kids in bed, so Race and Denny had sat at the kitchen table, drinking beer and eating the last of Sandy’s oatmeal raisin cookies. She put chocolate chips in them, something Race always liked. He’d been eating her cookies since she and Denny had first gotten together, back when Race was about Cody’s age.
Though Denny’s taste in beer was no better than Rob’s, he always kept a six-pack of Guinness on hand, just in case Race dropped by. Race had been working on that same six-pack since August. Partially that was because he didn’t visit so much anymore, and partially because when he did, he never drank more than one bottle. He’d been warned that alcohol would affect him differently after the wreck, but then he’d been warned about a lot of things. If he’d worried about every possibility, he’d have had to go through life suited up like a football player. Still, it seemed cruel that this particular prediction had come true. Race had never been a big drinker, but he enjoyed the taste of a good, dark beer, and now he had to exercise caution every time he had one.
Rain thundered down on the van like Mother Nature throwing a tantrum, and Race used it as an excuse to sit there for another minute. The living room light was on, which meant Kasey was still awake, even though it was past eleven-thirty. He wanted to talk to her, but knew those first words would be almost impossible. Really, he wasn’t sure what he should say. What Denny had told Race had helped him sort things out, but he still felt muddled, still felt like his thoughts and his feelings would never reach a balance.
In his head it made sense. He knew Kasey didn’t mean to make him feel inferior. He knew it was only practical to accept her help. If anyone else had been in his situation, he certainly wouldn’t have thought less of them for having to rely so heavily on others. But it wasn’t so easy to let himself off the hook.
Denny had spoken in that slow, quiet way of his. His voice had always been able to still something in Race, to soothe away pain caused by his father’s anger, or his mother’s distance. It had been a long time since Race had needed to rely on Denny’s reassurance, but he found himself readily accepting the comfort, and the experience gave him a twinge that made him think of his relationship with Cody.
“You’ve loved that girl since the day you laid eyes on her,” Denny had said. “It’d be a damned shame if you threw that away now. You really think it’s gonna make things better to torture yourself? You think it’ll make you more of a man?”
Hearing it put that way, Race had to admit his resistance seemed foolish, but the clincher had come a second later.
“Maybe you think you’ve gotta earn Kasey’s love, or pay some kind of cosmic debt before you’ll deserve it, but she doesn’t see it like that. All she knows is you’re pushing her away, and it hurts. You think hurting her is gonna help you level the scales?”
Really, Race didn’t need Denny to convince him. He’d already decided Kasey was right. But it helped to talk about it. To finally confess to another man how weak and worthless his need for assistance made him feel. Denny’d had something to say about that, too.
“Damn it, Race, what the hell do you expect of yourself? You’re only human. What happened to you could’ve happened to anyone, and most folks woulda been moaning and complaining the whole time. I know why you feel so down on yourself, and I guess I’d feel the same way. But you gotta realize it’s a load of crap. When you hear that little voice whining about not feeling like a man, you’ve just gotta tell it to shut the hell up.”
Now, Race massaged his temples and argued with the voice Denny had so astutely known about. He guessed it wouldn’t be so hard to ignore if he set his mind to it. After all, he’d grown adept at shutting out the one that whispered, what if it never gets any better than this?
The rain trailed off to a soft tapping, and Race reached for the door handle as more of Denny’s words came back to him.
“After the hell you’ve been through, you and Kasey deserve to be happy. And if I had to take a guess, I’d say it’s not just yourself you’re trying to prove something to.”
Race had looked up sharply, because he’d sensed Denny was about to tread ground that hadn’t felt his footsteps in years.
“You’re not gonna win your dad’s approval by keeping on like this, Race. All your gonna do is make yourself miserable.”
The statement had shaken him up. It had never occurred to him that his father might’ve colored his view of what a man should expect of himself, but he could see that it was true. After all this time, he still couldn’t escape the bastard.
Race shivered in the cold rain. He trudged up the steps then hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. It was hard to believe that by simply swallowing his pride he could have what he’d been wanting for over two years. Maybe that was part of the problem. After waiting so long, he couldn’t believe the possibility was real.
The house breathed a warm breath over Race as he finally opened the door and stepped inside, but the light sent a shaft of pain through his head. Squinting against the brightness, he saw Kasey curled around Winston in the recliner. She looked up from the book she was reading.
Race cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be awake.”
“I was just getting ready to go to bed.” Kasey tucked a slip of paper between the pages of her book and flipped it shut.
“No, that’s not what I—” Race sank onto the couch, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. “What I mean is, I’m glad you’re up.” He rubbed his forehead, drew a deep breath, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Kasey. For yelling at you and for acting ungrateful.” He tried to look at her, but the halo of light around the reading lamp hurt his eyes and made him queasy, so he focused on the carpet instead.
Kasey twisted the knob on the light, clicking it to its lowest setting. It was gestures like this that made Race question his ability to hide his discomfort from her.
“I’ve never thought you were ungrateful,” she said.
“I sure haven’t done much to show my appreciation.”
“You show it every day. You show it when you put time into the business, and when you cook dinner, and when you worry about how hard I work.”
Race buried his face in his hands. “Those are all things I’m supposed to do.”
“Maybe that’s what you’ve told yourself, but you don’t do them as if they were a chore. That says a lot, you know.”
Kasey’s chair squeaked, and a moment later the couch shifted under Race as she sat down beside him. He flinched at the motion, massaging his temples.
“Would you like me to get you some aspirin?” Kasey asked. Her fingers were warm and soft on the back of his neck. The touch sent a minor quake of emotion rumbling through him.
“Nah, I’m okay, I don’t need—” he stopped, realizing the pattern he was perpetuating. He was so tired of trying to be strong and do the right thing. What he really wanted, just once, was to give in to her fussing. To let her take care of him.
“Y’know, aspirin might be good,” he said.
Kasey got it then sat back down. Close, so the heat of her body transferred to his where their legs touched. Race hadn’t realized how cold he’d gotten, sitting in the van. It was more difficult for him to stay warm these days. Just another complication. What took him most by surprise weren’t the big changes in his life, but the little ones. The small ways in which his body was different. They felt like a betrayal. How could he convince himself he was the same person he’d always been when these tiny reminders kept popping up?
“Cold?” Kasey asked, draping an arm around him.
“A little.”
“I could make you some hot chocolate.”
“I’d rather you just sit here with me.”
Kasey tucked herself against his side. “I can do that.”
She fingered the hair at the back of his neck. The touch sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with being chilled.
“I’ve always known that you appreciate me, Race. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize how hard it’s been for you to accept my help.”
“You were only trying to make things easier.”
“Yes. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have been more understanding.”
She kneaded the muscles at the base of his skull, and it felt good to let her. Slowly, she worked down his neck to his shoulders.
“You’re tense.”
Race grunted and leaned in to the massage, recognizing the irony in her words. Before the wreck, the last thing anyone would have called him was “tense.” But who could’ve known there’d be so many things to worry about?
For a time, Race allowed himself to enjoy Kasey’s caress. Then he realized that the pulsing in his head had begun to lessen.
“Feels good,” he murmured.
“Does it help?”
“Umm hmm. Your touch is better than Vicodin.”
Kasey laughed. “Maybe I should look into marketing myself.”
“Nah,” said Race, feeling a hint of a grin stretch his lips. “I don’t think I wanna share you.” He turned to study her, hand reaching to rest against her face.
“I’m sorry for pushing you away,” he said, voice hushed.
“I know.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know that, too.”
Race smiled, fingers trailing down Kasey’s cheek. “Do you know that I love you?”
She trembled almost imperceptibly at his touch. “I’ve had my suspicions. But it’s nice to hear you say it.”
“I’ll try to make a point of doing that from now on.”
Kasey’s eyes shimmered, and Race marveled at his ability to stir emotion in this woman who was so strong, so focused. He didn’t feel worthy of that power. But maybe it wasn’t about being worthy. Maybe love didn’t have to be earned.
Race longed to tell her how he’d sorted things out, how he needed her and would never hurt her again. But language failed him. Instead, he pulled her close, kissing her full, soft mouth, which seemed so amazingly eager to welcome his. He melted into her embrace, giving himself to her in a way he never had before.
He let his lips say the things that words alone could not.
***************
That night it was Kasey’s turn to cook, but she stayed after hours at the shop. By the time I realized she wouldn’t to be home to fix something before I had to leave for karate, it was too late to do it myself. I was thinking about nuking a frozen burrito when the Charger pulled up out front.
“I’m sorry about dinner,” Kasey said as she came through the front door. “I got caught up in the AMX engine and forgot about your karate lesson. But I ordered a pizza before I left the shop. It should be here any minute.”
That AMX was becoming a real pain in the butt. The owner, some rich guy, wanted to give it to his kid for Christmas, and Kasey was determined to have it ready, even though stuff kept going wrong.
She hurried off to fix a salad, so it was Race who answered the door and paid when the delivery girl arrived. As he took the pizza to the kitchen and set it on the table, humming Silent Night, Kasey ducked around him, depositing plates and silverware.
“Let me give you some money for that,” she said.
The humming stopped. “Don’t worry about it.”
“No, really.” Kasey finished sticking napkins at each place setting and reached into her pocket to pull out a twenty.
A faint scowl flickered across Race’s face. “Put that away.”
“Just take it. You already gave me money for groceries this month.” She held the neatly folded bill out to him.
Ignoring it, Race pulled back a chair and sat down. “I don’t want it. You’re always rushing to cover everything. Maybe I’d like to pay for something for a change.” He pried open the Track Town box and helped himself to a slice.
“When will you realize it doesn’t matter?” Kasey asked.
“When will you realize it does?”
Apprehension raised a flock of goose bumps on my arms. Crap, I hoped they weren’t going to get into it again. I risked a quick glance at Race as I slid into a chair, piling pizza on my plate and hoping Kasey would have the sense to let it go. Smart as she was, she could be awfully dense when it came to his pride. If she understood why he resisted her romantic overtures, why didn’t she understand this?
Kasey stuffed the twenty into her pocket and sat down. Quietly, she dished herself some salad and passed the bowl to me. We made it through two-thirds of the pizza without anyone speaking. I figured the whole thing might quietly fade away, then Kasey had to make one last comment.
“I’m sorry, Race. I know this is hard on you. I just wish you could see the practicality of letting me help out. I’m fortunate to have the money, and I don’t mind spending it. You shouldn’t let it get to you.”
“I shouldn’t let it get to me,” Race muttered, dropping a pizza crust onto his plate.
My scalp prickled, and I shrank down in my chair.
“That’s right,” Kasey said, too stubborn to see he was about as stable as nitroglycerin right now. “It’s not important.”
Race stared down at the remains of his dinner. “Maybe you shouldn’t trivialize how I feel about it.”
“I’m not. I just think—”
“What—that I’m a loser who oughta suck it up and accept your charity?” Race’s eyes cut upward, skewering her across the table. “That I’m so pathetic you have to put tires on my van?”
The words halted Kasey’s hand as she attempted to stab an artichoke in her salad. I held my breath. Just drop it, I thought. Apologize while it still might make a difference.
“Do you have any idea how much you embarrassed me?” Race demanded. “It’s bad enough I can’t provide for myself. You don’t need to go announcing it to my friends.”
Sighing, Kasey laid down her fork. “It wasn’t supposed to happen that way. I intended to give you the gift certificate when we got home. Cody didn’t realize and brought it to the restaurant.” She glanced in my direction, but the look was regretful, not accusing. I withered under it anyway. Why did she have to go pulling me into the argument?
“You have no business giving me something like that,” Race said. “It’s inappropriate!”
“How else was I going to get you to accept what needed to be done?”
Oh boy.
A shiver of ice snaked down my back as I was sucked into the past, where Mom was tearing Dad a new one, and I was hoping I wouldn’t be next. I braced for the inevitable explosion as Race let out a noise that was halfway between a grunt and a growl.
“Why don’t you let me worry about what needs to be done. It’s my van.”
“And Cody drives it,” Kasey said. “Your tires aren’t safe. Do you really think you should be endangering him like that?”
My stomach went into lockdown. Please, just stop. Don’t do this in front of me. They never had before—at least not like this—and I didn’t know why they were now. Unless they were both just so worked up they didn’t care.
The look Race gave Kasey could’ve sliced through steel, but he said nothing.
“I knew you wouldn’t be happy about this,” Kasey continued, “but it was something I had to do. Last year I put your pride before my good sense when I decided against buying you a helmet. I’ve regretted it ever since.”
“That was not your responsibility,” Race said, his voice cold as stone. He shoved away from the table, strode to his room, and returned with the Les Schwab certificate.
“Here.” He tossed the envelope so hard it spun across the table. “I don’t want it. Cody’ll have his license in a few weeks. He can wait till then to drive.”
That’s right. I’d wait a whole damn year if it would get them to stop fighting.
“You’re overreacting.” Kasey’s tone was calm, but her eyes didn’t back up that composure.
“There you go, trivializing again.”
“I’m not trivializing.”
“Yes, you are!”
I cringed as Race snatched up the remains of the pizza, yanked open the refrigerator, and jammed the box inside. Part of me screamed at myself to get up and leave, but a lifetime of dealing with Mom kept me pinned to my seat, afraid to twitch a muscle.
“It’s my own damned fault,” he muttered. “I should’ve put a stop to this months ago.”
“Race—”
“I can’t keep doing this, Kasey.” His voice rose over hers as he plucked the salad dressing off the table and stuffed it in the door of the fridge. “I wanted to wait until after the holidays, but you’re forcing my hand. You’re my friend, not my girlfriend. It’s time Cody and I found a place of our own.”
“I—” Kasey began.
I jumped when Race jerked my plate away, taking my pizza with it. No doubt I’d become invisible, or he never would’ve risked getting between me and my dinner. Not that I wanted it. At the moment, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to eat again.
“There’s nothing you can say,” Race said as he picked up his plate and dropped it on top of mine. “We’ll be out of here by the end of the week.”
Kasey reached for a napkin, her hands trembling as she wiped pizza sauce from them. “If you want me to accept this, you’ll have to give me a reason.”
“I just did.”
The napkin crimped into a ball in Kasey’s clutch. “No, you gave me an ambiguity. I want to know why you can’t keep doing this. What exactly is it that makes it so hard for you to live here?” Now she was the one with the razor-sharp stare, but Race ignored it. He grabbed her plate and smacked it down on top of his.
“We’ve been through this,” he said as he took the dishes to the sink.
“No. We haven’t. Whenever I confront you, you say, ‘you know why’. If it’s that important, own up to it. You owe me that much.”
Whoa. Kasey might be stupid for starting this whole mess, but I had to admire the way she stuck to her guns. And in spite of how shook up I felt, a tiny sliver of my brain was intrigued, wondering what Race would do if she backed him into a corner he couldn’t escape from.
He shoved the faucet lever on full and hosed off the plates, spattering the countertop. He stayed quiet so long I thought he was going to duck out of answering yet again.
“I can’t go on living with you and just being friends,” he finally admitted. The anger that had knotted his jaw shifted into something softer. Something sadder.
“And why can’t we be more than friends?” she asked. “You used to want that.”
Race clanked the plates down on the counter and turned to face her. “What I want doesn’t have anything to do with it. If you settle for me, I’ll hold you back. And before you go jumping to conclusions, this has nothing to do with last summer. You’ve always outclassed me.”
“That’s not true.”
“It is true.” Race opened the dishwasher, yanked out the clean silverware, and began tossing it haphazardly into a drawer. “You can do better. You deserve better.”
Kasey’s eyes sparked and her fist clenched the balled-up napkin. “Just who do you think you are, telling me who I should love?”
The venom in her tone paralyzed Race. He froze with a handful of butter knives.
“Do you think I’m only capable of caring for someone more successful than I am? Someone with a prestigious degree, or a huge stock portfolio? Do you think those are the only things worthy of my admiration?”
Stunned, Race stared at her. I was just as shocked. I couldn’t believe they were finally telling each other how they felt, even if it was in an all-out verbal brawl.
“Damn it, Race, I love you!” Kasey’s voice was fierce. “I love you because you’re the kindest, most thoughtful person I know, and because you make me smile. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. That ought to count for something.”
Silence.
Race gaped, still clutching the knives. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, then he blinked and looked down into the silverware drawer.
“I know this hasn’t been easy,” Kasey said. “I have nothing but admiration for the way you’ve handled your challenges. But I can’t just let you walk away. Tell me what it takes to be part of your life. Give me some way to help with this.”
“You help too much,” Race mumbled, turning back to the dishwasher. “You gave me a job. You gave me a place to live. You fixed things so I could keep Cody. Everything I have, I have because of you.”
“I didn’t do it out of pity.”
“I know that. But successful relationships are supposed to be equal, and I’m not your equal.”
Kasey’s lips started to form an argument. Then her eyes widened, like it finally clicked—like for the first time she understood how degraded her handouts made Race feel. “I’m sorry. That’s not how I see it.”
“It’s how I see it.” He pulled a couple of plates from the dishwasher, keeping his back to her.
“So what do I have to do to balance things out? Fire you? Throw you out on the street? What will it take to make you feel you can love me?”
Race gripped the cupboard door and studied the countertop for several long seconds. When he spoke, his voice caught and then faded to a hoarse whisper. “Love—is not the problem.”
Kasey peered at him across the room, her expression so raw and desperate it felt invasive to be witnessing it. “Then what do you want me to do?”
The clock ticked in the silent kitchen. Race sighed and rested his head against the edge of the cabinet door, not even attempting an answer.
A switch flipped inside me, and the paralysis that had locked me in place evaporated. I looked questioningly at Kasey. When she nodded toward the living room, I got up and slipped away.
Behind me, her chair scraped softly against the linoleum.
“I want a real relationship with you, Race,” she said, her voice full of the steel that made her who she was. “And I intend to do whatever it takes to make that happen.”
***************
And this, from Race’s perspective, is what happened afterward . . .
***************
Sighing, Race pulled into the driveway and turned the key. The dull throbbing in his head, which began at dinner, had progressed into a spiking ache. Starbursts of pain now flared through his skull. A stage two headache for sure on the personal scale he’d developed to rate them.
It was the headache that had made him get up and leave Denny’s cozy dining room table. He’d been dealing with the damned things long enough to know this one would hit stage three before long. That would make driving miserable, especially at night, with all those headlights glaring in his eyes. A stage three headache would plow through his carefully erected barriers, compelling him to take Vicodin and hole up in a dark, quiet room for the duration.
For a long moment Race sat in the van, listening to rain tap out a metallic melody on the roof. When he’d left the house after the blow-up with Kasey, he hadn’t known where he was going. He’d driven around town for over an hour, then found himself heading down Denny’s street. Denny’s house had been a refuge when Race was a kid, but in spite of all that had happened since June, he hadn’t taken advantage of that sanctuary much lately. It was easier to plaster a grin on his face and pretend everything was okay.
Race had never been much of a complainer. Before the wreck, things hadn’t really gotten to him, and now, he hated to hear himself whine. Besides, there were other people to think about. Kasey didn’t need any extra burdens and Cody—well, the kid was a born worrier. The last thing Race wanted to do was add fuel to his fire.
At any time in the past five months, Race could’ve talked to Denny about his secret fears, about the feeling of loss he got whenever his fingers failed him. But somehow he hadn’t been able to. Denny would have listened—hell, he’d have been glad to listen. But talking would have made it too real. Talking would’ve made Race feel broken, and he couldn’t stand to think of himself that way.
Amazingly, the visit tonight had lasted almost three hours. It was the first time in months he’d spent that much time with Denny without working on a race car. Sandy had been at work, and the kids in bed, so Race and Denny had sat at the kitchen table, drinking beer and eating the last of Sandy’s oatmeal raisin cookies. She put chocolate chips in them, something Race always liked. He’d been eating her cookies since she and Denny had first gotten together, back when Race was about Cody’s age.
Though Denny’s taste in beer was no better than Rob’s, he always kept a six-pack of Guinness on hand, just in case Race dropped by. Race had been working on that same six-pack since August. Partially that was because he didn’t visit so much anymore, and partially because when he did, he never drank more than one bottle. He’d been warned that alcohol would affect him differently after the wreck, but then he’d been warned about a lot of things. If he’d worried about every possibility, he’d have had to go through life suited up like a football player. Still, it seemed cruel that this particular prediction had come true. Race had never been a big drinker, but he enjoyed the taste of a good, dark beer, and now he had to exercise caution every time he had one.
Rain thundered down on the van like Mother Nature throwing a tantrum, and Race used it as an excuse to sit there for another minute. The living room light was on, which meant Kasey was still awake, even though it was past eleven-thirty. He wanted to talk to her, but knew those first words would be almost impossible. Really, he wasn’t sure what he should say. What Denny had told Race had helped him sort things out, but he still felt muddled, still felt like his thoughts and his feelings would never reach a balance.
In his head it made sense. He knew Kasey didn’t mean to make him feel inferior. He knew it was only practical to accept her help. If anyone else had been in his situation, he certainly wouldn’t have thought less of them for having to rely so heavily on others. But it wasn’t so easy to let himself off the hook.
Denny had spoken in that slow, quiet way of his. His voice had always been able to still something in Race, to soothe away pain caused by his father’s anger, or his mother’s distance. It had been a long time since Race had needed to rely on Denny’s reassurance, but he found himself readily accepting the comfort, and the experience gave him a twinge that made him think of his relationship with Cody.
“You’ve loved that girl since the day you laid eyes on her,” Denny had said. “It’d be a damned shame if you threw that away now. You really think it’s gonna make things better to torture yourself? You think it’ll make you more of a man?”
Hearing it put that way, Race had to admit his resistance seemed foolish, but the clincher had come a second later.
“Maybe you think you’ve gotta earn Kasey’s love, or pay some kind of cosmic debt before you’ll deserve it, but she doesn’t see it like that. All she knows is you’re pushing her away, and it hurts. You think hurting her is gonna help you level the scales?”
Really, Race didn’t need Denny to convince him. He’d already decided Kasey was right. But it helped to talk about it. To finally confess to another man how weak and worthless his need for assistance made him feel. Denny’d had something to say about that, too.
“Damn it, Race, what the hell do you expect of yourself? You’re only human. What happened to you could’ve happened to anyone, and most folks woulda been moaning and complaining the whole time. I know why you feel so down on yourself, and I guess I’d feel the same way. But you gotta realize it’s a load of crap. When you hear that little voice whining about not feeling like a man, you’ve just gotta tell it to shut the hell up.”
Now, Race massaged his temples and argued with the voice Denny had so astutely known about. He guessed it wouldn’t be so hard to ignore if he set his mind to it. After all, he’d grown adept at shutting out the one that whispered, what if it never gets any better than this?
The rain trailed off to a soft tapping, and Race reached for the door handle as more of Denny’s words came back to him.
“After the hell you’ve been through, you and Kasey deserve to be happy. And if I had to take a guess, I’d say it’s not just yourself you’re trying to prove something to.”
Race had looked up sharply, because he’d sensed Denny was about to tread ground that hadn’t felt his footsteps in years.
“You’re not gonna win your dad’s approval by keeping on like this, Race. All your gonna do is make yourself miserable.”
The statement had shaken him up. It had never occurred to him that his father might’ve colored his view of what a man should expect of himself, but he could see that it was true. After all this time, he still couldn’t escape the bastard.
Race shivered in the cold rain. He trudged up the steps then hesitated with his hand on the doorknob. It was hard to believe that by simply swallowing his pride he could have what he’d been wanting for over two years. Maybe that was part of the problem. After waiting so long, he couldn’t believe the possibility was real.
The house breathed a warm breath over Race as he finally opened the door and stepped inside, but the light sent a shaft of pain through his head. Squinting against the brightness, he saw Kasey curled around Winston in the recliner. She looked up from the book she was reading.
Race cleared his throat. “I wasn’t sure you’d still be awake.”
“I was just getting ready to go to bed.” Kasey tucked a slip of paper between the pages of her book and flipped it shut.
“No, that’s not what I—” Race sank onto the couch, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. “What I mean is, I’m glad you’re up.” He rubbed his forehead, drew a deep breath, and sighed. “I’m sorry, Kasey. For yelling at you and for acting ungrateful.” He tried to look at her, but the halo of light around the reading lamp hurt his eyes and made him queasy, so he focused on the carpet instead.
Kasey twisted the knob on the light, clicking it to its lowest setting. It was gestures like this that made Race question his ability to hide his discomfort from her.
“I’ve never thought you were ungrateful,” she said.
“I sure haven’t done much to show my appreciation.”
“You show it every day. You show it when you put time into the business, and when you cook dinner, and when you worry about how hard I work.”
Race buried his face in his hands. “Those are all things I’m supposed to do.”
“Maybe that’s what you’ve told yourself, but you don’t do them as if they were a chore. That says a lot, you know.”
Kasey’s chair squeaked, and a moment later the couch shifted under Race as she sat down beside him. He flinched at the motion, massaging his temples.
“Would you like me to get you some aspirin?” Kasey asked. Her fingers were warm and soft on the back of his neck. The touch sent a minor quake of emotion rumbling through him.
“Nah, I’m okay, I don’t need—” he stopped, realizing the pattern he was perpetuating. He was so tired of trying to be strong and do the right thing. What he really wanted, just once, was to give in to her fussing. To let her take care of him.
“Y’know, aspirin might be good,” he said.
Kasey got it then sat back down. Close, so the heat of her body transferred to his where their legs touched. Race hadn’t realized how cold he’d gotten, sitting in the van. It was more difficult for him to stay warm these days. Just another complication. What took him most by surprise weren’t the big changes in his life, but the little ones. The small ways in which his body was different. They felt like a betrayal. How could he convince himself he was the same person he’d always been when these tiny reminders kept popping up?
“Cold?” Kasey asked, draping an arm around him.
“A little.”
“I could make you some hot chocolate.”
“I’d rather you just sit here with me.”
Kasey tucked herself against his side. “I can do that.”
She fingered the hair at the back of his neck. The touch sent a shiver through him that had nothing to do with being chilled.
“I’ve always known that you appreciate me, Race. I’m just sorry it took me so long to realize how hard it’s been for you to accept my help.”
“You were only trying to make things easier.”
“Yes. But that doesn’t mean I couldn’t have been more understanding.”
She kneaded the muscles at the base of his skull, and it felt good to let her. Slowly, she worked down his neck to his shoulders.
“You’re tense.”
Race grunted and leaned in to the massage, recognizing the irony in her words. Before the wreck, the last thing anyone would have called him was “tense.” But who could’ve known there’d be so many things to worry about?
For a time, Race allowed himself to enjoy Kasey’s caress. Then he realized that the pulsing in his head had begun to lessen.
“Feels good,” he murmured.
“Does it help?”
“Umm hmm. Your touch is better than Vicodin.”
Kasey laughed. “Maybe I should look into marketing myself.”
“Nah,” said Race, feeling a hint of a grin stretch his lips. “I don’t think I wanna share you.” He turned to study her, hand reaching to rest against her face.
“I’m sorry for pushing you away,” he said, voice hushed.
“I know.”
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“I know that, too.”
Race smiled, fingers trailing down Kasey’s cheek. “Do you know that I love you?”
She trembled almost imperceptibly at his touch. “I’ve had my suspicions. But it’s nice to hear you say it.”
“I’ll try to make a point of doing that from now on.”
Kasey’s eyes shimmered, and Race marveled at his ability to stir emotion in this woman who was so strong, so focused. He didn’t feel worthy of that power. But maybe it wasn’t about being worthy. Maybe love didn’t have to be earned.
Race longed to tell her how he’d sorted things out, how he needed her and would never hurt her again. But language failed him. Instead, he pulled her close, kissing her full, soft mouth, which seemed so amazingly eager to welcome his. He melted into her embrace, giving himself to her in a way he never had before.
He let his lips say the things that words alone could not.
