Page 2 of That Summer
“And if I don’t?”
“There are others. Chris will find you someone awesome. She wants to help you just as much as I do.”
And as much as Nate did. A long, low exhale. With it came another squeeze on her arm.
He pulled her closer. “I know that sigh.”
“I know you do.” She turned her body toward him. “Can I ask?”
“You can, but you know I won’t tell you anything.”
“But…”
“He’s my brother.”
The elevator dinged announcing her floor, and he held the door as she stepped through into the darkened corridor. The dingy carpet softened their footsteps as they walked the length of the hall.
“I just figured, being my best friend and all, that you’d–”
“I’m your best friend?” A playful smile erupted on his face, lighting him up.
She pushed him further down the hall. “Shut up. You know that.”
He gave a low, throaty chuckle. “Yes, I do and I promise I won’t tell Kaitlyn.” Even in the lull of the dim light, his grey-blues sparkled.
Kaitlyn.Her cheerleader, former roommate and female bestie who was expected back from a month-long Russian holiday in the next forty-eight hours. A smile instinctively tickled the corners of her mouth as she yearned to catch up with her and show her how hard she’d worked to overcome her car phobia. She’d be a great trial. If Kaitlyn was impressed, Nate was sure to have his socks blown off.
Her heart ached. For Nate. God, how she wanted Nate to be the one standing in the hall with her now. Wanted his chocolate-coloured eyes on her, his lop-sided, one-dimpled smile lighting the area. Wanted to run her fingers through his ridiculously soft brown hair, but she’d screwed up. Not only had she screwed up, she’d also told him about it. Maybe at the time she thought she was doing him a favor or maybe she was sabotaging herself. Either way, he’d walked out, and her heart had shattered to pieces at the same time. But she knew, via Lucas, that Nate still loved her. In fact, he loved her so much despite her major screw up, he was preparing for his final race. He planned on retiring from his first love in nine weeks so the racing and car issues she had wouldn’t be a problem between them. She didn’t like that—not at all—and a plan to foil his career ending move was born.
Nine weeks. Sixty-three days to stop his retirement. The only way she figured she could succeed would be to show up at the track. It would prove she could handle his lifestyle, even if her PTSD from her automobile accident fought against that. In order to do that, she needed to get over her fear of touching cars, of sitting in them, of being strapped to them while they transported her around. It was the last one holding her back the most, but at the same time, she knew she was close to having a breakthrough on. Oh so close.
After unlocking the door, her coat puddled on the floor while Lucas walked straight into the galley-style kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.
She flopped into a cushiony kitchen chair. Watching him make himself at home amused her. It was inevitable, being that he was always over. Always helping her. Always avoiding his family’s questions about his whereabouts. Surely they didn’t think he workedthatmuch.
“Lucas, I can make you a tea or something.”
“Nah, this is fine.” The water went down quickly, and he refilled his glass. “Do you want me to make you one?”
“No.” The chair wasn’t where she wanted to be. She dragged herself onto her weathered old couch and sank into it.
The apartment wasn’t much to admire, with its beige walls and dark-brown shag carpeting direct from the 1980s, but it was home. Carmen’s paintings hung on every wall, adding a sense of cheer, although the canvases themselves were dark in colour. It comforted her to have her sister’s presence in the room. Where paintings were on display, personal photos were in short supply. Only two were visible in the living room. One—a family photo before the crash—sat on an end table. The other picture hung above the flat screen TV console where her DVDs and gaming systems sat. An 8x10 photo of her and Nate taken on her first trip to the track. That was a day she’d never forget. The day she discovered he was a race car driver.
Lucas sat beside her after a few minutes, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “You’ll get through this, and you’ll see him soon.” He tipped his head in the direction of the photo she stared at constantly.
“How can you be so confident?”
“Because it’s you. You’re so determined to beat this that you will.”
A sigh escaped her lips. She didn’t bother suppressing it. “Doesn’t feel like it.”
“I know.” He rubbed his brow. “Believe me, I know.”
She pulled her leg under her and turned toward him. “That statement doesn’t sound very positive.”
“Sorry.” The tight, pinched up expression on his eighteen-year-old face softened. “You’ve come so far. Remember how terrifying it was to just stand beside the open door? And then get in? Good lord, that was a fun time.”
No need to remind her of it. Just thinking about it caused the hairs to stand on the back of her neck. It had been a scary day the first time they’d tried that. A shudder coursed through her as the memory flitted by.