Racing for Freedom

chapter Nineteen





“I won dad,” I say to my father that night, as I’m cooking him dinner.

“I’m so proud of you, Dash.” He says, more to the television than me.

“It wasn’t by much, but it was a win.”

“A win is a win, it doesn’t matter how close.”

I smile over at him as I chop the carrots for his stir fry. He looks worn, tired and not himself.

“You ok dad?”

“Sure, just tired.”

“You know, the final race is in a few months. I’d love if you could come and watch me.”

He forces a smile. “I’ll certainly try.”

“Will you?” I whisper.

He looks over at me and his face is broken. “I will.”

“Dad, I have no one else.”

“You have Lucas and John.”

“They’re not you.”

“I know Dash, I’m sorry.”

I nod, looking away. I continue cooking, silently. When I’m done, I serve him and sit, as he eats.

“Have you been eating dad?”

He shrugs. “Sure, mostly sandwiches, but I’ve been eating.”

“That’s not healthy dad.”

“I know, I’ll start cooking.”

“What about the drinking?”

He looks up at me sharply. “You said it wasn’t your problem anymore Dasha, so I believe that means it’s none of your business.”

I stare at him painfully. “Dad, that’s out of line.”

He sighs and rubs his head. “You know what? I’m not hungry. I might just go to bed. Thanks for the dinner and congratulations on your win, Dasha.”

Then he stands and leaves me alone. I’m hurt, truly hurt. I clean up and then leave. I take my time walking home, my feelings are all over the place. I want to scream, cry and yell. I want to change things for him, to snap him out of this world he’s put himself into, but I don’t know how. When I get home, Slade and a bunch of guys are out the front drinking and making a lot of noise. Kandee is perched on Slade’s lap, stroking him in way I didn’t need to see.

“Dashy baby, you’re home.” Slade grins.

I glare at him. “Did you ask to have a party, Slade?”

“It’s not a party, we’re celebrating your win.”

“Leave, all of you.”

“Aw, you said she was fun Slade. She’s nothing but a stiff.” One of Slade’s friends tease.

I storm over and kick him so hard in the chest his chair stumbles backwards and he lands on the concrete. He makes a loud oomphing sound and everyone goes silent.

“LEAVE!” I scream. “NOW!”

I turn and storm inside, and I hear Slade telling them all to leave. I hear Kandee whine, but he demands that she goes too. I run into my room, my rage boiling over. My own father doesn’t care what happens to me. He doesn’t care at all. Why do I bother racing? Why do I bother trying to save his name, when he doesn’t care about himself?

I grip the photo frame off the side table, it’s of me and him after my first race when I was sixteen. I smash it against the wall and I yank the photo out, slicing my finger on a bit of jagged glass. I tear the picture into pieces and scream profanities at it. My mother is gone, my father has lost it and I have no one to turn to anymore. No one to cheer me on. No one to be proud of me. Hot tears stream down my face as I struggle to tear the next bit of photo.

A set of arms go around me from behind and grip my hands. I tremble and tug, but he doesn’t move. I know who it is, I know those hands. He grips my wrist and shakes it, causing the photo to drop from my hands. I cry out and struggle against him, but he just holds me tightly, one arm wrapped around my waist, the other holding my wrist.

“Tearing that up isn’t going to make it better, Dashy.”

“He didn’t even come and watch me. He doesn’t care if I win or lose. I have no one, no one that’s proud of me!”

“I’m proud of you,” he whispers.

I sob loudly and he tightens his grip around my waist, pulling me back into his chest, until our bodies are molded together. My legs buckle and he slides down to the floor with me, never letting me go. He grips my sliced finger and he wraps his hand around it, holding it tightly to stop the thick flow of blood that’s now dripping onto my legs.

“He’s missing out, you’re a great racer Dashy. He’s the one missing out, not you.”

“He’s my dad,” I whimper. “He’s meant to be there Slade.”

“Sometimes having them there, isn’t always best.”

I shift slightly so I’m turned to the side and I tilt my head back to look up at him. His eyes are pained, but he quickly covers it and wipes a tear from my cheek with his thumb.

“You have to keep fighting, even if no one believes in you, Dash. It’s the only way. Do you want this?”

I nod. “You know I do.”

“Then fight for it, with or without him.”

I nod and look down. “I’m bleeding all over you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckles hoarsely, “you are.”

He helps me to my feet and leads me out to the kitchen. He sits me on a bar stool and gets the first aid kit from the pantry. He takes my hand in his, gently wiping away the blood that’s beginning to form. I watch him intently as he moves his fingers over mine, gently spreading them and cleaning them. I swallow, feeling a rush of warmth slide through me that I haven’t felt for a long, long time.

He gently wraps a Band-Aid around my finger and then looks up and meets my eyes, smiling. His finger is still stroking my now covered one, and the moment is intense. I feel my heart kick up a notch as I stare at him, swallowing rapidly, to try and shove the feelings down that are bubbling to the surface. He raises his hand and strokes a thumb over my cheek, making me gasp at the contact.

Suddenly his free hand is tangled in my hair and we’re moving closer. Part of me is screaming to pull back, screaming for him to stop touching me and let me go, but my body is still moving closer and closer to those beautiful, full lips. Our eyes are connected as he tilts my head back and presses his lips to mine. I groan and reach up, tangling my free hand through his hair and pulling him down closer.

The kiss deepens, our fingers entwine and he has a hand in my hair, I have one in his. Our lips move together in a soft, slow dance that has my heart throbbing angrily, against my rib cage. I haven’t felt such emotion…since…he left. When his tongue slides into my mouth and finds mine, I gasp and pull him even closer, if that’s possible. When he groans, reality sinks in and I gently pull back. What the hell are we doing?

“Slade…”

His eyes are wild with lust, anger and things I don’t know how to read. Or maybe I don’t want to read them because I’m scared of what they might mean. He stares at me, and I can see he’s panting wildly.

“What…what are you doing?” I whisper.

“F*ck,” he whispers, running his hands through his hair.

“You don’t even like me Slade, why did you do that?”

He looks at me again, narrowing his eyes. “Dash, why do you think I don’t like you?”

“The last few years have been hell. You treated me so badly, you left and when I saw you again you were awful. Why are you doing this now?”

He stares me right in the eye when he speaks. “I f*cked up Dash, the way I treated you back then, you have to know…”

“What?” I whisper, feeling my voice break.

“It wasn’t your fault. I know you think it was, but it wasn’t. What I did to you that night, I was a f*cking jerk. You deserved so much more, you deserved your first time to be beautiful.”

“Here’s the thing Slade,” I say in a small voice. “It was beautiful, I hated you for it but afterwards, but I could only think that being with you was beautiful, no matter how it was done. I hated myself for that.”

He curses and takes my face in his hands. “I f*cked you against a fence, I wasn’t gentle or slow. I should have treated you so much better, but I was in a bad, bad place and I was losing everything around me. I didn’t want to be close to you, because I knew that if I let myself love you, I would have never walked away.”

“You knew you were leaving, didn’t you?” I say, suddenly piecing it together.

He nods. “Yes, I knew for months.”

“And you never thought to let me say goodbye? You knew I loved you Slade, you were my best friend.”

He swallows and I pull away, turning my head to the side and looking at the floor.

“I didn’t want to hurt you Dash, I knew you cared about me. When you came to that party, I was so f*cking angry. I was angry at you for dancing with other men, I was angry that I couldn’t tell you everything I wanted to tell you, I was angry that I had to leave. I hurt you and there is no excuse for that, but if you think that I meant to or that I hated you, then you are so horribly wrong.”

“You broke me Slade, and then you came back and you were such a jerk.”

“I had to be, you don’t understand…”

“Make me understand,” I cry, throwing my hands up. “Make me understand why you came back and couldn’t even look at me. Make me understand why you didn’t come to my mother’s funeral, why you didn’t call?”

He looks at me so painfully it breaks my heart, his eyes twinkle with deep emotion that goes so much further than me. I want him to tell me, I want him to say what’s been keeping him so wound up and hidden.

“I drove out of this place the next day, knowing that you were at home sobbing over me and the loss of your mother but I had to go Dash. I wish…I wish I could tell you why but…believe me. It broke me.”

“It broke you?” I snarl. “How do you think I felt about it?”

“I know Dash, ok…”

“No, Slade, you don’t know. You treated me like a dog when you got back, you taunted me for looking after my father. You couldn’t even be friendly.”

“I couldn’t…god Dash…I couldn’t be nice when…”

“WHAT?” I scream.

“I can’t do this, I can’t tell you…I can’t.”

His eyes are pained and he looks so broken it truly hurts my heart. His eyes are lowered, his breathing is deep and he’s trembling. Whatever it is that made him run, has damaged him in some way.

“Why did you kiss me just now, Slade?”

He closes his eyes. “The other night you asked me a question and you didn’t let me finish answering it.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You asked me what I wanted, and you cut me off before I could give you everything I wanted to say.”

I swallow and his eyes meet mine as he says the next words. “All I ever wanted, Dash, was you.”

I close my eyes and tears stumble down my cheeks, he takes my chin and tilts my head back, forcing me to look at him. I snatch my face away. I can’t do this, not to myself, not to my father. Slade is no good for me, he’s not. It doesn’t matter what I feel, he’s forbidden to me in so many ways. His father hates me, my father hates him. We’re competitors. It can’t work. It just can’t.

“Slade, we can’t do this again. I can’t give my heart to you when I don’t know if you’ll treat it the right way,” I whisper, walking away from him. “Don’t kiss me again.”