Smokin' & Spinnin' (37 page)

As he utters those words, Ryan’s mom opens the door and walks out to us. She has no life in her eyes, but manages to give me a weak smile. Ryan lets go of me to grab her because she looks like she is about to fall over. He looks at me, grief stricken, like he doesn’t know what to do next either. Instantly, I know what I have to do!

I take hold of them both and usher them back to the waiting area where Jerri sits. She looks distraught as we enter the small, dimly lit room. I know she knows.

I take charge of the situation. My first call is to Max. I take out my iPhone and select his personal cell phone from my contact list. The phone rings once, and Max says, “Hey Whitney!”

I sigh into the phone remembering how Ryan contracted with him to watch over me after my accident. “Hi,” I murmur.

“Everything OK…?”

“No…I need you. Can you come to Carolinas Medical Center now?” And I reveal to him the most heartbreaking news of my life. Even Max is choked up. I can hear it in his voice.

I secure his staff immediately. He reassures me that he is on his way to the hospital for a private escort back to Mooresville. Then, I coordinate with the hospital staff, prepare a small public statement requesting privacy, and secure a back exit. I have to get us all out of here, and quickly, before the paparazzi descend on us yet again.

Chapter 40

I
t is late. I am grateful that Ryan wanted to come home tonight. We have not left his parents’ home since Monday. I follow Ryan into his house down the corridor that is lined with racing photos of him and Garrett. Normally, I look at the photos because each time I see something different, but tonight, I can’t look at them. Ryan is unnervingly quiet, which is the way he has been for the last few days. I can’t blame him. He has been through one of the most traumatic events a person can face, the loss of a parent. I have no idea of how to console him, but I have not left his side.

Ryan turns on the kitchen light and walks over to the refrigerator. I stand watching him sympathetically. Even after these few days, I still have no earthly idea of what to say. My heart aches for him. He jerks the sub-zero door open and grabs a beer. His sudden movement takes me by surprise. Exhausted, I slowly step out of my one black heel and lean over to unlatch the straps on my walking boot.

To say this week has been exhausting would be the understatement of the century. Since Garrett’s death on Monday, I have been solely working public relations for the family at Laura’s request. The office has been completely shut down, and the GCR teams will not compete this weekend at Chicagoland due to bereavement. There has been a
horde of people in and out of Ryan’s family home, not to mention private services for the family, including a wake, and another public memorial service for Garrett’s fans.

It exhausts me to replay it all in my mind. And the mere fact that I planned it all for Laura and Ryan is inconceivable. But there was no way they could have done it alone. The shock and grief are more than anyone can bear right now. I have been by Ryan’s side, but have kept a close distance due to prying eyes. No one else knows that Ryan and I have reconciled except for his mother and, sadly, Garrett.

I had planned to take some time to rest this afternoon, but Ryan insisted that I attend the private interment, for immediate family only, on the Carter plot on the farm. He was extremely adamant about me going, which was confusing. It should have been a private time for Ryan and his mother. I could not figure out why he wanted me there so badly. I guess it was mainly for moral support. My thoughts remind me that even my brain is too tired to function right now.

I look over at Ryan to tell him that I am going to bed, but before I can utter those words, he loses it. He howls a low, guttural wail that sends chills down my spine. The sound is a battle cry as he tosses the bottle up, grabs it by the neck, and then slings it with unnatural force across the room. I cry out watching the events in slow motion.
Oh, Ryan!

The bottle slams into the opposing kitchen wall. I stumble backward and throw up my arms to shield my eyes from the spray of glass and hops. My reaction must remind him that I, too, am in the room. Ryan’s head snaps in my direction, making sure that I’m OK and not hurt from his outburst. I look back at him with sympathetic shock. He stands stock-still, staring at me, not realizing what he has done. Ryan slides down the length of the stainless steel refrigerator door to the floor. He buries his head in his hands and weeps.

I move quickly and take a seat on the floor next to him. Ryan has been amazingly strong for his mother. The only tears I have witnessed, aside from these, were at the hospital. Certainly, he is allowed his own meltdown after what he has been through.

I put my arms around him tightly and rest my head against his. After what seems like a lifetime, Ryan says, “Damn… you know…there was so much I didn’t say to him. I…I wanted him to be proud of me. And lately, all I have done is show out like a pubescent teenager.”

I laugh out loud at his confession.

Ryan snaps his face around to mine. “What’s so funny?”

I raise my eyebrow at his anger and shake my head at him. “The way you made that statement, for one. It was a very accurate assessment.”

Ryan is still not amused.

“And two, your dad was insanely proud of you.”

Ryan gapes at me. I give him a look that says,
I can’t believe that you don’t know this.

“Yes, he was. He told me so. That morning after I let you have it in the boardroom. He said, and I quote,
‘Ryan will be an even better race car driver than I ever thought I could be.’”
I relive the conversation for him.

Ryan looks at me with relieved shock. “I can’t believe he said that.” He stands from his bereaved position on the floor.

“Well…believe it!” I quip.

Ryan helps me up from the floor and looks at me achingly. He is so hurt. He runs his fingers through his hair in exasperation and walks over to the kitchen counter. “After the accident, Dad said he was extremely disappointed in me. And those words cut me to the core. That conversation is on constant repeat in my mind. And the fact that I lost six weeks with him because of my stubbornness…”

He leans into the granite and steadies his body with his hands. My heart hurts to see him this broken. I move to his side and place my hand on his back softly. If I can’t find the right words, maybe my touch will be enough. I have been hesitant to be affectionate with him because of so many people from the team, media, and general public around us these last few days. I run my hand slowly up his back, and he turns around suddenly, grasping my hand in his as if he wants me to stop.

My breath hitches in my throat. Ryan gives me a desperate look, and I can see several emotions wash over his gorgeous, rebellious face. The depth of his emotions are starting to scare me, though. Ryan intently searches my face. Then, he instantly runs his hand up into my hair and jerks it free from the rubber band that holds it neatly back away from my face in a bun. My brown hair cascades down my back, and I cry out to him in surprise, “Ryan!”

My stomach somersaults in my body much like the very first time I laid eyes on him. Ryan takes my face in my hands. “I need you! I need you so bad!” he says breathlessly.

Before I can respond, he fervently presses his lips to mine. His passionate kiss instantly takes my breath away. I fall into his body as he envelops me. This is home.

Ryan instantly sweeps my languid body up into his arms. He strides purposefully to his bedroom and doesn’t bother with the lights. He
lays me down gently on his bed in the darkness. “I feel like I’m losing my mind, and you…you are the only thing that is keeping me sane,” he mutters intensely.

Tears begin to fall down my cheeks from the intense pain that we have been through, not just the death of Garrett and my accident, but the last six weeks, too.

“Hey,” Ryan says softly. “Please, Whitney, please don’t cry.”

I know he has seen enough tears, but I am overcome with emotion. I have tried to be strong for him this week, but I have lost the battle tonight in his arms. The moon is full. It is casting a glow throughout the room that makes it just possible to see his face. I try in vain to fight back the tears, but they continue to flow freely.

Ryan is now looking at me sympathetically. “You have been great this week, but you don’t have to be strong all the time. You can’t be everything for everybody, Whitney.”

I shake my head, not able to mutter a single syllable. Then suddenly, I know what I need. “Make it go away. This week, these past six weeks, make it all go away…Love me,” I say breathlessly.

Ryan obeys my command. He softly wipes away the last of my tears. Then, he kisses me so fiercely that my back arches up from the mattress. Ryan cries out from his gut. It is hot. It’s working too. I am forgetting already. Our bodies move together in that delicious rhythm that only they know. Ryan removes my little black dress effortlessly, and I help him with his white dress shirt and slacks. I have no idea what happened to his tie. It disappeared hours ago.

Ryan trails soft kisses over my body; each one burns and sends a delicious heat over my body. Oh, I love this! I love him, I think as Ryan
enters me abruptly in desperation. I cry out. He stills for a moment, then begins an arduous rhythm. He, too, is trying to forget.

Ryan and I make love for what seems like hours. We are in a constant roll of positions. I don’t want to stop. I beg my body to enjoy and fight off my orgasm at every turn. I’m not ready for it. I want to lose myself in Ryan. I don’t want this moment to end.

“Whitney,” Ryan mutters against my lips. I know what he means.

“No! Please…don’t stop!” I shout breathlessly.

Ryan pulls back and looks at me questioningly. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

I shake my head to let him know that he is not. “I want to forget everything…everything but us,” I say anxiously.

Ryan doesn’t miss a beat. He continues at a much slower and gentler rhythm. I trail soft kisses down his neck and behind his ear. I bury my head into his shoulder, taking in his scent.

Ryan cries out like he is in pain. “I don’t know how much more I can take, Whitney!” he exclaims.

“Then let go,” I say.

He snaps back, “Not without you!” Oh!

I look up at him as our rhythm picks up again mercilessly, for a purpose now. I feel my body building, and I cannot fight the overwhelming burst of pleasure that barrels over my body and throughout my soul. Ryan cries out in response to my victory, but continues his
stride until he crosses his own finish line. He falls over my body with a series of harsh expletives that are barely coherent. Our bodies heave together with exhaustion. Sleep inevitably follows.

Chapter 41

I
awake sometime during the night, or maybe it is early morning. I am not sure. It’s Friday, I believe. Instantly, I know that I am alone. I reach out for Ryan even though I already know that he is not there. As my hand comes up empty, I abruptly sit up in the bed. I have a sinking feeling in my gut that something is wrong. I jump onto my good foot. I grab Ryan’s T-shirt from the floor and pull it on as I hobble out of the bedroom to find him.

Panic seizes in my chest the closer I get to the main part of the house. I begin to hear Ryan’s harsh, arrogant voice.

“I don’t give a shit what time it is!” His tone is firm, but in a forced whisper. “Just get my fucking car to the track! Do you understand me? No, I will handle that. Just get my damn car there.” He slams his phone down without an audible good-bye to the recipient of his tirade, which I now assume was Josh.

I stand shocked in the entryway of the great room as I process Ryan’s conversation. I feel like I’m going to throw up as I put two and two together. He wants to race. Ryan turns back toward the bedroom, but stops cold in his tracks when he spies me intruding on his
conversation. He regards me cautiously. I blink rapidly. I can’t believe it. He wants to race.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes no doubt unsure of my reaction. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

I shake my head. “I woke up because you weren’t there.”