Running Wide Open (22 page)

“To the shop, yes.” Kasey’s slender fingers curled around his. If Race couldn’t tell how she felt about him from the intensity of her expression, then he really did have brain damage.

“I’m sorry, Race,” she said. “But I have to.”

“’S okay. . . . You should.”

Even though I’d been warned, the halting pace of Race’s words shook me up. I think some part of me had believed that once he woke up everything would be okay.

“Cody has money for the bus and he knows how to get to the shop,” Kasey said. “Send him to me when you get tired.” She squeezed Race’s hand. “I’ll be back this evening.”

For a long moment their eyes locked and a current crackled between them. Then Race pulled his hand away, breaking the circuit.

“You need to . . . go.”

A flutter of panic lodged in my chest as Kasey left the room. Race was gonna want to talk, and I was still so furious I knew I couldn’t do it. How was it possible to be so worried about someone and still want to kick his ass?

“C’mere . . . kid,” Race said, patting the blankets as if I was a stray dog that needed coaxing.

“I’m good where I am.”

Race lay quietly for a minute, looking up at the ceiling. “I’m sorry. . . . This isn’t what you . . . signed up for.”

“Damned straight.”

“I . . .” Race hesitated, searching for a word. “I . . . get it. You’re . . . pissed at me. Hell,
I’m
pissed at me. . . . I totally botched my chance at . . . at the championship.”

My rage, barely suppressed, came tearing to the surface. “Who gives a rat’s ass about the stupid championship?”

“Kid—”

“There’s more important things than a damned stock car race!”

“I know. . . . C’mere. . . . We’ll talk.”

“I don’t wanna talk. Anyway, aren’t you supposed to be resting? You look like shit.”

“Cody—”

But Grandma appeared in the doorway then, saving me from further conversation. For the first time in my life I was glad to see her, in spite of Grandpa hovering in her wake.

While Grandma had come every day, it was the first time Grandpa had been back since Saturday night. He stood by the wall, back ramrod straight, scowling and glancing at his watch. Grandma shot him a warning look as she sat down on the edge of Race’s bed.

“You’re looking better today. The doctor said you’re making remarkable progress.”

Race clearly wasn’t hearing a word she said. His eyes, narrowed in suspicion, were fixed on Grandpa. Grandpa stared back with equally intense distaste.

“William,” Grandma cautioned.

“I don’t know what you were expecting from me,” he said. “I told you my coming here would be a mistake.”

“For the love of God, he’s your
son
. I know the two of you have your differences, but you could make an effort.”

Grandpa broke free of his staring match to focus on Grandma. “And why is that, Noreen? It isn’t as if this were unavoidable. I might be able to generate a little sympathy if he’d been hit by a bus.”

“You’d probably . . . throw a . . . party . . . if I got hit by a bus,” Race said.

“You see? Right there—nothing but insolence.” Grandpa blasted Race with a glare. “You’ve been defiant your whole life. Running around with white trash, wasting my hard-earned money on art classes when you should have been studying business. And now you expect me to feel sorry for you?”

“I don’t . . . expect a . . . a damned thing.”

I shoved up out of my chair and stepped in front of Grandpa. “Why don’t you get lost?”

His smoldering scowl made me shiver. “What did you say to me?”

That was one of my mother’s lines and now I knew where she’d got it.

“I said you should get the hell out of here.”

Grandpa’s eyes impaled me before darting away to settle on Race. “As if it weren’t bad enough that you’ve wasted your own life,” he said. “Now you’re exerting your negative influence over Saundra’s son as well.”

That was wrong on so many levels I didn’t know where to start.

“Give me a little credit, Grandpa. Don’t you think I could figure out how to be insolent and defiant all on my own?”

“Don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re too big to be taken over my knee.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

Grandpa lurched toward me and seized my good wrist.

“Get your . . . hands . . . off him,” Race ordered, struggling to get up. Grandma held him back.

“William!” she said, her voice as commanding as Kasey’s.

“I will not put up with that sort of disrespect.”

“Then maybe we should leave.”

Reluctantly, Grandpa’s fingers unclenched, releasing me. Without a word he turned and left the room.

“I’m sorry, Race,” Grandma said, patting his hand as she stood up to go. “I shouldn’t have brought him.”

Trembling with outrage and exhaustion, Race closed his eyes and sagged against the pillows.

The room was so quiet after Grandma left that I could hear people talking at the nurses’ station down the hall.

“Thanks, kid,” Race mumbled.

Suddenly it was too much. Race’s gratitude, Grandpa’s hatefulness, and most of all the way my uncle had been so ready to jump to my defense. But conflicted as I felt, the anger still burned in my gut, hot as the inside of a combustion chamber.

“I gotta go,” I said. Not daring to look at him, I ducked out of the room and took off.

* * *

The heat of the sun felt good on my skin after the chill of the hospital’s air conditioning. I knew Kasey would tweak if I showed up before noon, so I crossed the street to 7-Eleven and spent the next few hours playing video games one-handed while trying not to think about what happened that morning. Grandpa was such an asshole. Growing up with him would’ve been ten times worse than growing up with Mom. It was amazing Race hadn’t wound up a delinquent like me.

When I got to the shop, Kasey put me to work.

“Things are really backed up and I need all the help I can get. Do you think you could wash parts? I’ll pay you.”

“You don’t have to pay me.”

Kasey found some rubber gloves big enough to fit over my bandaged hand then showed me the parts tank. I spent the afternoon cleaning stuff I couldn’t identify.

The shop was a madhouse. The phone kept ringing, and mostly it wasn’t business, but people wanting to know about Race. Kasey took pity on them. I would’ve hung up. Didn’t they know she had work to do?

When I finished with the parts, hand throbbing from the activity, I went to see what else needed to be done. Kasey was lying under an old Ford while Jake hung over the fender, holding something for her. I decided it would be a bad idea to interrupt them, so I located a broom and got to work. It looked like the place hadn’t been swept in a month.

Cleaning the floor made the counters and workbenches look worse, so I started picking stuff up. I was surprised at all the receipts I found, deposited on every available surface. I took them into the office where the desk was piled with cookies, homemade bread, and baskets of fruit. Casseroles and salads jammed the tiny refrigerator in the corner.

“Hey, Kasey,” I called, leaning out through the doorway. “What
is
all this stuff?”

“Gifts from friends at the track. They figured we’d have enough on our hands without having to cook, too.”

“People really do that?” I’d seen it in movies, but I never thought it actually happened.

“Of course,” Kasey said, as if it took place every day in her world.

By six I’d scrubbed the bathroom, straightened the office, and started wiping down the tools I’d picked up. If the size of the pile was any indication, I figured the toolboxes must be empty.

“Thanks for all the help,” Kasey said, giving me a one-armed hug. “Are you ready to go?”

“I’ve just gotta clean this stuff up and figure out where to put it.”

“It’s not that important. I’ll get to it tomorrow.”

“If he wants to help, let him,” Jake said. “You go see Race. I’ll stick around to give Cody a hand, then I’ll drop him by the hospital on my way home.”

“Are you sure? You’ve already put in extra hours this week.”

“Of course I’m sure.”

Jake was a muscular, crew-cut guy who looked like he’d make a good Marine. He was pretty old, probably old enough to have kids in college, but he’d always seemed cool enough. He showed me where the tools went then gave me a basic rundown on the projects he and Kasey were involved in.

“You did a good job today,” he said, “but cleaning parts and sweeping aren’t the only ways you could help.”

“I don’t know anything about cars.”

“I’m not talking about cars. I’m talking about your attitude. You need to stop giving everyone such a hard time. Kasey’s got her hands full between looking out for you, running this business, and taking care of Race. Do you have any idea how much pressure she’s under?”

I thought about the scene at breakfast. It was the only time I’d given her any shit, and I still felt bad about it.

“I know Kasey acts like she’s tough as nails, but she’s only twenty-three—hardly more than a kid herself. You don’t have any business adding to her stress by throwing temper tantrums.”

The words seared me deep. I’d been worrying about Kasey for days. Wasn’t it enough that I felt lousy for yelling at her?

But the more I thought about it, the more I realized Jake was right. As aware as I was of how shook up Kasey had been since the wreck, I hadn’t considered that I might be part of the problem.

Chapter 21

The next morning Kasey dropped me off again at Sacred Heart. Apparently Race hadn’t told her I’d run out on him the day before.

“So you . . . decided to give me . . . another chance,” he said, focusing on me with a vagueness that proved he wasn’t all there.

“I guess.” I was torn between anger and the need to have things be okay between us. “Y’know, your hair looks like it was attacked by Mothra.”

Race flashed a weary grin. “Maybe you should bring me a . . . mirror . . . so I can start working on a . . . a . . .” he fumbled for the word.

“A comb-over?”

“Yeah.”

I dropped down in the chair, wondering why it was so hard to let go of being pissed. Kasey had told me to talk to him about it, but I didn’t know how to start. I felt so furious, so betrayed. How could he go making me care about him then almost get himself killed?

Race shifted around, trying to see me. The effort made him wince, and I felt a twinge of guilt, but it wasn’t enough to make me move the chair into his line of vision.

“Kasey said you . . . helped yesterday.”

“Yeah.” I traced a finger over the design on the fabric of the chair.

“That’s good. . . . She works too hard.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

“She’s . . . worried . . . about you.”

“She said that?” I couldn’t believe Kasey would tell him anything that might stress him out.

“No. But I can see it. You shouldn’t . . . don’t give her a hard time . . . okay?”

“I don’t.”

Race was quiet for a long time, and I didn’t step in to fill the silence. “I owe you an . . . apology,” he said finally. “I screwed up big time.”

Some mean little part of me couldn’t let him off the hook. I stared down at my feet. Noticing a bit of rubber pulling loose from the side of one of my Converse high tops, I tugged at it. “You can apologize all you want,” I said. “But you’re not getting any sympathy from me.”

“Kid, I don’t want your . . . sympathy. . . . I just want my life back.”

“Actions have consequences.” The sliver of rubber ripped away from my shoe, and I rolled it between my fingers.

“What?”

“That’s what you told me when I stole that street sign. Actions have consequences.” I flicked the rubber fragment at the floor.

Race sighed. “I sure was right about that.”

“Well, it’s not fair. How come me and Kasey have to suffer the consequences for your actions? It isn’t right!”

Race was quiet.

All the pain, fear, and anger of the past few days swooped down on me at once. I knew I was about to start crying, and I’d be damned if I’d let him see me do it. Shaking, I shoved away from the chair and went to stand by the window.

“You didn’t even think about us, did you?” I demanded, staring out at the traffic on Hilyard Street below. “All you cared about was that stupid championship.”

“That’s not . . . that’s not true, Cody.”

“It
is
true! If you cared about us, you never woulda got in that car. You had to know this could happen.”

“I didn’t.”

“You should have!” With wetness on my cheeks, I swung around to face him. “You even admitted you needed a new helmet. How stupid could you get?”

“Cody—”

“You scared us!”

“Look, kid—”

“You coulda died.”

“I didn’t.”

“You
could
have!” Quivering, I turned back toward the window. “You’re such an asshole,” I said, my voice fading to a whisper.

“I know.”

I slumped against the wall, overpowered by tears. I couldn’t have stopped them if I wanted to, and I was tired of trying. Race needed to take responsibility. He’d created this mess, and it was his job to make it go away.

“Cody,” Race’s tone was sharp with distress. “Come over here.”

I stayed where I was.

“Damn it, kid . . . don’t . . . do this to me.”

What was he gonna do about it? He couldn’t come after me.

“Cody—
please
.”

He could beg all he wanted. Let him be the one to feel scared and helpless for a change.

The crash of metal on metal made me jump, but it wasn’t until I heard Race grunt and swear that I turned around. He was out of bed, clinging to the little wheeled table, and it was rapidly sliding away from him.

“Are you freakin’
stupid
?” I lunged forward to grab it before it could roll any further. But even as I spoke, I knew it was me that was stupid. How many times had I heard that lack of judgment was one of the problems after a head injury? How many times had I been told a repeat trauma in the first six weeks, no matter how minor, could be fatal? Race could’ve messed himself up big-time and it would’ve been my fault.

Shuddering at the thought, I pulled his arm over my shoulders and helped him sit down. Race collapsed onto the bed, his face damn near as white as the pillowcase. For several moments he lay still, struggling to catch his breath.