Throttled

“It’s all right,” he said. His mouth said one thing, but his eyes said another. Did he not want to tell me that he loved it? I could see that he did.

“Reid, I’m serious. I want to know all about it,” I pushed him.

“It’s really great,” he confirmed my suspicions and went on to fill me in on his many accomplishments. I’d never doubted his ability. That was one of the things that hurt so much when he left. I was his number one fan. I’d wanted to be there cheering for him and celebrating after a big win.

“I’m so proud of you. I just wish I could have been there...” I trailed off when I saw the smile fade from his face.

“I know. I’m sorry that I took that away from you. From us. Believe me, I did want you there. It just didn’t seem fair to make you put your life on hold while I got mine started.”

“I really wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” I told him. “I do understand why you ended things, believe it or not.” I’d been trying to look at our breakup differently. Instead of being the scorned little girl I’d been back then, I was trying to be the adult, rational thinking woman I was now. “I know that you were worried about failing or letting me down. And I get that you wanted to protect me from the hardships of being a thousand miles apart. It still hurt me, but maybe a little less now than it used to.”

“I know I have a lot to make up for,” he said. “And, I can promise you that from here on out you’re at every race you want to be at. I know that might not be the taking it slow you were looking for, but I really want you there. I want to share that part of my life with you.” The sincerity in his eyes and the way he was clasping both my hands with his knocked down another brick in the wall I’d built around my heart.

“I’ll be there.”

“Good,” he said, the agreeable look on his face had my heart beating a little bit faster. The waitress showed up with our orders before I could tell him how much I really appreciated his words. “Can we get another order of bacon, too,” he asked the waitress. The second she sat down his plate I snaked the first piece.

“You bet,” she nodded as she walked away.

“See,” he said. “Some things never change.”





After lunch I, being the completely respectable gentleman that I was, took her back to her car and let her go home. It was hard to not beg her to stay. A part of me was scared that if I let her go, she might change her mind about giving me another chance. She leaned over and kissed me softly on the lips.

“Thanks for lunch,” she said. Her lips still lingering inches from mine, as we stood next to her car in front of the cabin. “And for the ride.”

“No problem.” I hesitated to kiss her again, wondering exactly what she wanted when she’d suggested we take things slow. I had seven long years to make up for and only a couple months left to do it in.

I was a professional motocross racer, going slow meant you were losing, so I decided to go for it. In my world, hesitation was the enemy and I wasn’t going to hesitate to claim what was mine. I snaked an arm around her back and pressed my lips back to hers. She didn’t resist me, in fact, she welcomed it. Her hands fisting my T-shirt, pulling me closer. It wasn’t nearly as aggressive as our kiss in the trailer, but it was just as sweet. I felt her hands flatten out against my chest, and I knew that she’d come to her senses. Her senses which told her that taking it slow was a good idea.

“I should go,” she said, breaking her lips from mine.

“You should.” I paused. “I mean, unless you want to stay.”

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