Speed Demons (14 page)

Evie knew she was about to start crying, to have a complete meltdown and make a fool of herself. She was so angry at them, and she had every right to be. She pushed off the balaclava and began to walk toward the trailer. There she merely grabbed her keys out of her jacket and ran toward the parking lot. She heard Blythe call her name but kept running, not about to stop and talk to anyone, least of all someone whose main objective was to point a lens her way, even when she was at her most vulnerable.

She jumped into the Chrysler and drove off, wiping at her cheeks and blinking furiously as she tried to rid herself of the tears. She wasn’t sure where to go, only that she needed distance from the team, the track, and Blythe. From all the things and the people that made her feel so much.

Too much.

*

Blythe ran, trying to catch up with Evie, but she was simply too fast. She slowed to a stop when she saw Evie leap into her car and drive off.

“Jesus, Evie.” Ben’s voice reached Blythe from behind. She turned to face him.

“What just happened?” She couldn’t help but feel this might be her fault.

“Mainly Evie’s fear getting the better of her.” He looked sad as he pushed his baseball cap and adjusted it with jerky movements. “God, that woman can drive me right up the wall, but it used to be for other reasons. She may be right about the car, but she was never this skinless or upset before the crash. There were times when the car needed major work, and she was totally cool about it, even joking. I’ve never seen her this…panicked.”

“I didn’t help.” She fiddled unhappily with her camera. “I should’ve backed off much sooner.”

“No. No, you shouldn’t. When Evie calms down, she’ll tell you that herself. You’re here to document the truth about her comeback. And the truth is the truth is the truth.”

“Huh. Some would argue that there’s no such thing as truth. Only perception.”

“Bullshit. They’re confusing the ‘whys’ with the ‘whats.’” He gestured behind him with his thumb. “Since we don’t know how long it’ll take her to blow off steam, why don’t we go put some more coffee on?”

“Coffee sounds great, but shouldn’t we try to find her?” She wasn’t happy with the fact that Evie was out driving while in that turbulent frame of mind.

“No. She’ll be okay.” He started back toward the pit.

She hesitated, but then decided that she couldn’t very well pursue Evie on foot. “How can you be so sure? Is this her usual MO, running off when things go wrong?”

“Having a temper? Yes. A minor tantrum? Sure. Running off in tears in sheer panic? Not so much.” He gazed around at the team members in the pit. “You guys can take a break. Evie needed to cool off a bit. She’ll be back later. Then I want you to go over the car, especially the steering and the dampers. If it vibrates the way she says, we need to fix it.”

“The guys and I’ll be right on it, boss,” a young woman said calmly. “We can work in shifts until it’s fixed. Just to be on the safe side.”

“Thanks, but make sure y’all eat something, all right?”

The woman nodded and left them.

Blythe went inside the trailer with Ben and watched him start the coffee machine but couldn’t eat since her stomach was in knots. Intellectually speaking, Evie’s state of mind had nothing, or at least very little, to do with her. Evie struggled with flashbacks, nightmares, and self-doubt. This was partly what her training sessions were supposed to highlight so she could deal with them together with her team.

Blythe’s part in this process was to document everything—the good, the bad, the vulnerable, the joy, and the meltdowns. She had allowed Evie to startle her, and Blythe would have to figure this out. She wouldn’t be able to capture the true image of what Evie had put herself through to return to the track and to her fans if she allowed Evie to intimidate her. Calling her a paparazzi was malicious and clearly well devised, in order to get her to back off. Still, Ben was right. It was Evie’s fear talking. Loud and clear.

“She likes you.” Ben interrupted Blythe’s musings and put a mug of steaming black coffee in front of her. “Milk? Sugar?”

“Today? Neither. I hope it’s strong.”

“Strong enough for a spoon to stand up on its own, I think.” He sat down across from her, sipping his own coffee before he bit into a chocolate doughnut.

“So, she’s afraid. And angry. At herself, mainly?” She rested her chin in her free hand while warming her other one around the mug.

“Yes. I think she figured she would be further into the healing process. Apart from the brief flashback that first time she was back on a racetrack, she’s done really well. Withdrawal symptoms may have tipped the scale for her.”

“Withdrawal?” She had just sipped her coffee and now lowered her mug carefully.

“She’s been on quite the cocktail of pain medication while in rehab and going to appointments at the burn unit. On top of that, she’s been talking to young people who just suffered burns at different East Coast hospitals. She’d never volunteer that information, and she might actually have my head—again—when she learns I told you, but it’s one of the things that’s taken a toll on her. Sure, it’s been rewarding for her to be able to encourage these kids, but she called me a lot of times afterward, in tears, heartbroken over kids that were badly hurt.”

“Perhaps that was too much for her, having been through it and not quite processed it.”

“She was adamant about doing it. As soon as she saw the kids at the ward she was admitted to, she started making inquiries if she could do anything for them.”

Blythe cupped her hands around the mug and thought of the fiercely beautiful Evie, how her hair had erupted around her head in the wind when she tore off her balaclava earlier. Like a force of nature, so overwrought with emotions she was ready to burst. “Guilt,” she said.

“What?” Ben looked up from his half-eaten doughnut.

“This is more than fear. The whole thing. It’s guilt.”

“Like survivor guilt?”

“Yes.”

“You seem very sure.”

“Well, we sort of touched on the subject that first weekend at her house in Plymouth.”

“I’m sure they went over that in therapy.” He seemed ill at ease.

“I’m sure. That doesn’t mean she’s over it. It takes a long time.”

“You have experience with this sort of thing?” His eyebrows met in the center above his nose.

“Yes. Firsthand.” She met his gaze without blinking. Some people, sometimes people you least expected, had issues with anything psychological. As if PTSD was a character flaw.

“You handle it well. I wouldn’t have guessed.” He surprised her by taking her hand. “And I think you’re good for Evie. She needs someone who understands her. The way you acted around her when Mad Mal showed up at the track that first time—I liked that.”

“Evie’s special. I don’t think I’ve ever known anyone like her. I mean, besides being so beautiful, she’s so
alive
.” She quieted, her cheeks growing hot. Damn her transparent skin.

“She is. With every fiber of her being.” He grinned. “She can also be a total pain in the ass. You won’t find a more loyal friend once she gives you her seal of approval. I can see she’s done that with you.”

“I’m not entirely sure about that.” Blythe laced her fingers tight together. “She was very angry.”

“As I said, not at you. Not even at me or the crew. I know her better than my own kids in many ways. Right now she’s sitting in the car somewhere, going over what happened, and she’s about to start blaming herself for everything. That’s how the pendulum swings with her. First everything is everybody else’s fault, and then it’s all hers.”

“Will it balance out? That’s what needs to happen when she gets back into the Viper.”

He nodded. “Exactly. She’ll need us as sounding boards, but no pity or anything like that.”

“Got it. Sounding board. No pity.” Blythe checked her cell phone for the hundredth time. Evie had been gone over an hour. “How long do we stay and wait for her here?”

“We have, um, another hour, then we’ve got to clear out.”

“If she doesn’t come back here today, I don’t have a ride.” She looked carefully at Ben.

“Yeah, you do, Blythe. I’ll drive you back myself.”

She smiled, really starting to like the burly man on the other side of the table. He was Evie’s friend and father figure. He might just become her friend as well.

*

I behaved like an idiot
, Evie thought. Worse. Like a stupid idiot, drained after her emotional outburst, which was more than an outburst. It was like Mount St. Helens times ten, at least that’s how it had felt. She drove into the parking lot she’d sped out of hours ago. It was getting dark now, and of course, nobody was there. She had stranded Blythe, after insulting her—which in fact had been a really below-the-belt insult.

Turning the car around, she took the smaller roads to Pawleys Island. She stayed tuned to a loud rock music station all the way, trying to keep her thoughts from overwhelming her. The closer she got to her house, the harder her heart pounded. What if Blythe had decided to stay somewhere else? Why would she want to stay with a moron who insulted her?

What if Blythe had packed her bags and gone back to New York?

She parked underneath the house between the stilts. The house had a few lights on so Blythe was there, or had been, at least. She unlocked the door and walked up the stairs.

“Blythe? You here?”

No one answered. She went into Blythe’s room and saw her laptop and some clothes on the bed. Relieved, she walked over to the balcony door. Some garden lights and the bright moonlight lit up the beach below. At first, the area belonging to her house seemed empty. She opened the door and stepped outside. Only a slight evening breeze. She checked her watch: almost nine. It had taken her longer to drive home than usual.

A movement close to the water caught her attention, a small figure huddling below. The moon cast a shimmer in her hair—Blythe’s blond, curly hair. Relieved, she hurried down the steps. Below was a gate, which was open, and she walked rapidly, even running the last bit before reaching Blythe. Mindful not to startle her, she called out.

“Blythe?”

The huddled figure moved and it was Blythe, wrapped in a fleece blanket. She looked apprehensive and Evie didn’t blame her.

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Blythe.” She sank down on her knees next to her. “It was unforgivable to speak to you like that. How can I make you believe that I won’t do this again? What can I tell you?” She didn’t know what else to say, to make Blythe understand how sorry she was. “Please?”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry. Really. I’ve…I’ve heard worse.” Blythe’s snort sounded hollow. “I know better than to take it personally.”

“God, Blythe. I didn’t intend to sound so mean. I lashed out at everybody. I was so freaked out, it’s ridiculous. That’s no excuse. Just an explanation.”

“I know that too.” Blythe’s voice was a little softer.

“You’ve been so wonderful. I’d hate it if you left. Or if you even decided to stay somewhere else around here while working on the book. Please, don’t do that. Don’t go.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I like it here.” Blythe smiled faintly for a second. “No, that’s not true. The truth is, I like
you
, but I hate it here. I thoroughly hate it. I sat here waiting for you to come home, hoping you hadn’t had an accident or something, and I realized that nothing’s changed. I still hate it here.”

“Still? You mean since you lived here as a kid?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t mean to sound totally self-absorbed, which of course I will by asking this, but did you just say that you like me?” Evie felt a small, hard and cold lump in her chest start to defrost just a little.

“I did.” Blythe unfolded the blanket and extended an arm. “Want to join me?”

“You bet.” She couldn’t believe how easily Blythe had accepted her apology. She remembered begging for her father’s forgiveness for transgressions she couldn’t even understand he could have a problem with, begging him for days without any response. Now she’d offered Blythe a heartfelt apology with every cell in her body and Blythe had accepted it. Taken it at face value.

She wrapped her arm around Blythe under the blanket and helped tuck it in around them. Their shared body warmth dissolved even more of the frozen nucleus of her heart.

“Tell me about why you hate it here, please, Blythe.” She laid her cheek against Blythe’s temple. “I really want to know. You know it stays with me.”

“All right.” Blythe shuddered. “It’s not very exciting, but it’s certainly had an impact on me.”

“Then all the more reason to share it with me.”

Chapter Fourteen

Blythe was amazed to feel so safe inside the blanket with Evie, yet so vulnerable and nervous. Stalling for time, she tried to redirect their attention back to Evie.

“Where did you go?”

“Driving around. Parked by a lake and stared at the water and felt like a prize jerk.”

“You’re trying to deal with stuff. Work your way back.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to call people names and act out the way I did. I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven. Just so you know. I understand.”

“Thank you.” Evie sounded so relieved. “Now, enough of me. Your turn.”

Blythe didn’t want to revisit ghosts from the past. She hated the feelings these spirits of her youth instilled in her; they were never constructive. To summon courage, she leaned her head on Evie’s shoulder. Perhaps some of Evie’s undeniable courage would rub off on her. She inhaled, suddenly greedy for Evie’s scent. Realizing that Evie was still dressed in her racing coverall, Blythe grinned. She looked very good in it.

“You might have guessed that I’m pretty shy.” Blythe waited for an ironic “Nah, you don’t say,” which never came. A little more relaxed, she placed a hand on Evie’s thigh. “If you consider how I am now, then think about a scrawny, freckled kid ten times as shy. I couldn’t speak in front of others in school. One time when I had to read my essay out loud in class, my teacher tried to be nice and sat with her arm around me. Probably because she was afraid I’d fall and break my neck if I fainted from sheer nerves.”