Running From Forever (18 page)

With my sights focused on nothing but the metal
bars in front of me, I gripped my handlebars and watched for the
drop, not missing a second in between. I got my lead, straight from
the get go, building speed and precision with each turn I made. I
knew I was out in front but didn’t know how far. Other racers used
headsets to stay in touch with their pits, but I never used one; it
was too much of a distraction. I didn’t need to know where I was at
or how many people were in front or back of me. I only needed to
race. I would do the best I could, take each turn and jump to the
best of my ability, and count the laps in my head with each pass
over the finish line. I was on my last one, feeling good, taking
the turns effortlessly. No one was crunching in beside me or trying
to inch their way in front. I had a good lead and I knew it. I took
the finish line with ease, looking up to the screen as I crossed to
see my name in the number one slot.

Another victory was mine.

I met the racers that placed second and third
along with Bev, Steve and some other sponsors in the winning
circle, and saw my team running infield for congratulations. It
wasn’t until I saw Kayla trailing behind them that my smile grew,
stretching the length of my face. She came right up to me, throwing
her arms around my neck as soon as she got close enough. The
feeling was surreal. Even if she was only dressed in my old
sweatpants and t-shirt, she was immaculate and beautiful. And
hugging me, which wasn’t bad, either.

“Oh my God, that was insane!” she cried,
stepping back. Excitement filled her face, making her exhilaration
spread throughout me. She felt my passion and I loved it. “Ahh! I
can’t believe you won, I mean I can, but not by that much,” she
continued to ramble, making my smile brighten. The girl was fucking
adorable, and the fact that she went from devastation last night to
bouncing with excitement today all because of me sent a rush inside
that no winning could ever compare to.

After accepting my check and saying a little
speech on how I won, we packed up and headed back into the city,
this time taking a cab to the train station from the stadium. My
legs couldn’t take another piggy back ride and Kayla swore she
couldn’t carry me all that way.

It was well after five when we finally got
back to my apartment. We were both exhausted from last night’s
boozing and the long day at the track, and we crashed on my bed as
soon as we saw it. I made sure to set my alarm for an hour later,
getting the same reaction as I did earlier when it went off.

“What the hell?” she shouted, covering her head
with the pillow again. “How does that sound not drive you
crazy?”

I didn’t respond, just laughed quietly and
headed to the bathroom to shower and get ready for work. I opened
late on Saturdays, since I usually had races during the day.
Thankfully, it didn’t seem to be hurting business much. Kayla
hadn’t moved by the time I returned. I wondered what she was going
to do while I was gone. She still hadn’t mentioned anything about
last night and I didn’t want to prod.

“Coming downstairs later?” I asked, running
deodorant under my arms and spritzing my shirt with cologne.

She looked at me, disgusted. “Ugh, I can’t even
think about alcohol right now.” She puffed her cheeks out, acting
sick. “Can I stay here, though? Do you mind?”

I shook my head and met her eyes through my
mirror. “No, of course not.” I definitely wouldn’t complain about
her staying there. I’d never lived with a girl or had one stay at
my place for more than a night, so I didn’t know what the protocol
was. Though, with Kayla it was different. She wasn’t a girl looking
for a lay or a handout, she was more like an old friend who came to
visit for the weekend. She gave my home a comfortable feeling. I
couldn’t explain why, she just did. “Stay as long as you want,” I
told her, meaning it one hundred percent.

An appreciative grin curled at the side of her
mouth. She looked so fucking adorable sitting on my bed, hair a
mess, no makeup on, and wearing my clothes. It was a weird feeling
the girl gave me. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. It
wasn’t lust—I didn’t have the urge to jump her bones, but it
couldn’t be love, either—we barely knew each other. It definitely
was something, I knew that much. Kayla was someone I wanted to
spend all my time with—she was a breath of fresh air in my
monotonous life. The immediate level of comfort she added to my
life was something I’d never found with anyone.

“Thanks. I should go home at some point, but I’m
just not ready yet,” she said, shrugging her shoulders.

I really didn’t want to leave her. Even though
we had a blast together for almost the last twenty-four hours, I
knew she had shit going on in her life, and I didn’t want her to be
alone to reminisce about it. “You sure you don’t wanna come
downstairs? I can have my cook make you something to eat if you
want.” I was borderline begging. I needed to be downstairs, but
needed her to be okay, too.

A bigger smile tugged on her lips. “I’m good.
Don’t worry about me.” She waved me away with her hand. “I’m going
to take a shower and veg for a little bit. Maybe I’ll stop down
later for some food.”

The answer would have to do. The bar didn’t
bring in enough money for me to have someone cover it. It was only
me and my other buddy, Skyler, who held down the kitchen. He didn’t
know shit about making drinks or counting money, so there wasn’t a
chance in hell that I’d trust him behind the bar.

“K, take the back staircase off the kitchen.
It’ll lead you right down to the bar’s kitchen,” I told her, not
sure if she remembered the way we came up this morning. Since I had
to carry her up the entire way, I was pretty sure it wasn’t saved
in her memory box.

She nodded and smiled. “Back staircase. Got
it.”

I stopped and kissed the top of her head before
continuing to the door. It wasn’t something I had planned to do,
but came naturally. “I’ll see you in a little bit then, maybe,” I
said, facing her from the door frame.

“Yup, have fun,” she replied before I
disappeared into the living room then out the back door.

I stood at the top of the stairs, torn. It
didn’t seem okay leaving. I knew she needed someone there with her,
and I wanted that someone to be me. She was fragile; I knew this,
and I wanted to be her shoulder to cry on, like I was last night. I
wanted to kill that fucker. She hadn’t told me the extended
version, but I knew damn well her misery was because of him. It was
just the type of fucker Miles Blackwell was. Besides the money, I
couldn’t tell what every fucking woman in the city saw in him. He
was a tool, one that took over daddy’s fortune without having to
lift a finger. It was no wonder that his sister despised him. I’d
heard stories. Almost every non-exec from ETV came into the bar
every Tuesday and Thursday, and when given the right amount of
alcohol, the volume of gossip they shared increased. From what I
heard, his sister worked her ass off to get to the top and Miles
was handed the title by just graduating from college. Apparently he
shocked everyone by doing an okay job, but still, he was a spoiled
little shit that was given anything he wanted and didn’t give a
rat’s ass about anyone but himself.

The bar was hopping; a complete one-eighty
from the night before. I was running from one end to the other with
dirty glasses piling up in the sink. I had no time to chit chat
with customers and thankfully no time to dwell on Kayla upstairs by
herself. I hadn’t heard from her, so I assumed she was okay. It
wasn’t until eleven o’clock rolled around that I stopped in my
tracks, ignoring anyone needing drinks waiting. Douchebag walked
in.
What is that stupid fucker doing here?
The only other
times he’d been inside these walls were the two times he came there
looking for Kayla. I had a feeling this time was no different.

Ignoring everyone else, I walked over to where
he was now sitting, rage filling my insides. I wanted to go apeshit
on his ass but had to remember that I owned the place and causing a
scene could ruin my business.

“Drink?” I asked through gritted teeth, trying
to divert my energy by wiping the bar in front of me with a
rag.

He looked up, studying my face. It was then that
I noticed how shitty he looked. Don’t get me wrong, I always
thought he did, but he looked even worse.
Don’t tell me the
fucker actually cared?

“Gin and tonic,” he answered in a somber
tone.

Christ, he did care.
I wasn’t going to
talk to him about Kayla, though, nor tell him where she was.
Regardless of how he felt, he fucked up, and didn’t deserve her. I
wasn’t sure anyone did, but I knew for certain he didn’t.

The house gin was set on the other side of the
bar, but I didn’t lose sight of him while I poured it. I didn’t
trust the guy, especially since I had no fucking clue why the hell
he chose my bar to sulk at tonight.
Did he follow her here last
night? Did he know she was with me today?
I couldn’t be sure,
and I didn’t put it past him to have someone following her; I knew
he had little minions that he paid to do shit for him. It’s crazy
what money could buy—this I knew from my own shitty upbringing.

I placed the drink on a napkin in front him.
“Seven dollars,” I said, my tone dry and devoid of any feelings I
had towards him.

Instead of handing me cash, he threw down a gold
member credit card, telling me to hold onto it. I cursed inwardly.
I didn’t want him here, especially for the evening. It was getting
late and I had a feeling Kayla would be stopping down any minute.
There was no way I wanted her to see him. She needed time away to
heal. Whatever the hell he did was enough to make her run and not
want to return. Shit like that wasn’t done over just a little
spat—he fucked up royally and needed to keep his distance from her.
This I would make sure of.

“Bar’s closing early tonight,” I said, handing
the card back to him. It was a Saturday night and I knew I was
screwing myself, but I couldn’t chance her seeing him.

He looked at his Rolex, confused. “It’s eleven
o’clock.”

“Closing at midnight,” I answered
confidently.

He glanced over his shoulder, noticing the
mounds of people milling around before looking back to me. “Doesn’t
look like the smartest business move.”

“Probably because it’s a personal move.” This
time I couldn’t hold back, putting both hands on the edge of the
bar and pushing my weight against it, seriousness in my eyes. He
was challenging my decision, so I was handing it right back. The
guy didn’t intimidate me. He had money, but didn’t have balls. Not
like the ones I had. I’d been around the block more times than he
had designer suits. I didn’t give a fuck what he thought of me and
I certainly wasn’t afraid to show it.

His eyes traveled the length of my upper body
then back up to my face, tilting back the rest of his drink before
placing the empty glass back on the bar and standing. His welcome
was worn out and he knew damn well of it, but deepened his glare as
he threw a ten dollar bill from his pocket down on the bar before
turning to leave.

I stood there, staring, confirming his exit; it
wasn’t until a regular snapped me from my gaze that I tore my eyes
away.

“You really closing up shop early, Merrick?”

I stepped back, letting my muscles ease from the
tense lockdown they had pressed against the bar. “Nah, Paul,” I
assured him, pouring him another draft of Coors. “The personal
reason took the hint.”

***