Pedal to the Metal: Love's Drivin' but Fate's Got the Pole (The 'Cuda Confessions Book 3) (34 page)

“We can certainly do that.” I gave Mom’s hand a squeeze and a look that dared her to start squalling again. “I don’t mind letting the others go. I can wait.”

“I’ll wait, too.” Caine volunteered. “Macy, let Colt take you to see Dad. Tell him I love him.” The hitch in Caine’s voice made me swallow hard, and that, in turn, made me imagine a plastic tube down my throat.

I choked down a sob. “Tell him I do, too.”

If I break down, Mom will fall to pieces. And when she does, she’ll confess. Because confessing is her way out of this mess. The thought of dealing with a prolonged recovery—or God forbid, if Dale’s paralyzed—will scare the fuck out of her.

Doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him. She’d run because she won’t know what else to do. 

Feeling at odds with Caine and Colt, even with Mom, was familiar ground. But I ached to find a way to bring us back together. Who was I kidding? The five of us had never been together. I had some sense of what Dale had gone through, trying to make us into a family.

He’d let me run, and yet, found a way to keep me tethered. He’d drawn Colt and Caine into his world, and built Mom a house so she had something to show for all the time Dale spent away from her. And not once in the last four years had any of us tried to make his task easier.

Had he given me his medical power of attorney because I was already the outsider, and thus, more likely to do what needed to be done than give in to the group’s consensus? Or was this another of Dale’s ways of drawing me closer to the fold?

“I want to know about the nightmares,” Mom demanded, scowling at the doctor. “You said these drugs might give him nightmares.”

I wrenched my head toward the physician. “Nightmares?”

“Oh, yes, Miss I’m-in-Charge,” Macy spat. “Didn’t he tell you that some patients report nightmares the entire time they’re under? Why didn’t you answer your phone so I could make sure you knew that Dale has bad dreams? Some nights they’re so bad, he wakes screaming. How could you let this man trap him inside a nightmare he can’t wake from?”

Caine refused to look at me, so I stared at the physician in dismay. “Is that true?”

The neurosurgeon nodded. “Some patents do report vivid dreams. But the benefits of the coma far outweigh the negatives, I assure you.”

Vivid dreams. Nice way to dodge the weight. Just change the words. 

Mom dug her nails into my arm. “I’ll never forgive you for this, Shelby. They could’ve given him anti-inflammatory drugs to stop the swelling. You’re just a child. Of course, you think if it’s new, it must be better.” She narrowed leaking eyes on my face.

“A medical coma is not a new treatment. Standing by with a few steroids in a syringe while his brain swells is barbaric.” Heart pounding, I yanked free. “I’m still trying to work through the side effects of my concussion. I’d trade a few bad dreams for brain damage any day. Go see him. And smile, if it kills you.”
Or I might.

Colt grabbed her shoulders, turning her in the direction of the double doors. The doctor moved inside with them, pausing at the nurse’s station. 

Caine shoved his hands into his pants pockets and kept his head down.

I swiped my tongue across dry lips. “Is Mom telling the truth? Does Dale have bad dreams?”

“Off and on, all my life.” Caine refused to look up.

My heart stuttered. I imagined being unable to wake from the dream of the ‘Cuda flipping. For seventy-two hours. “So, Mom’s not exaggerating?”

“Nope.” He finally lifted his eyes to mine. “He cries out for my mother.”

In a perfect world, I’d tell Caine right now that nothing would keep us apart. We’d fall into each others’ arms, and somewhere, music would play. Instead, I stared at the nurses’ desk and held my tongue, wondering for the thousandth time if I was pregnant, while he did a damn fine imitation of a man who’d moved on.

While I tried to figure out what to say, Jamie dropped a hand on my shoulder. I welcomed the distraction.

“Goddamn kiddo, good job standin’ up to your mama,” he muttered in my ear. “I want my crew chief back just the way he was. Thank God, someone had the guts to make the right call.”

Caine didn’t look up, but raised his fist, complete with erect middle finger.

Jamie would retire at the end of the season. As much as I might hope he’d get his wish, if Dale had to do any amount of rehab, odds were that, after a decade and a half, Jamie and Dale had run their last race together. The stricken expression in Jamie’s eyes said he thought so, too.

“How’d you finish?” I hadn’t thought to check the race results.

“I’m sure it’s a coincidence that Kolby’s damn brother spun me into the grass with two laps to go. Came in fifteenth. Out of fifteen on the lead lap.” Jamie’s smile was thin. “That’s racin’.”

I could almost hear Dale saying the same words
.
But, no, this most assuredly was not racing. At least, it wasn’t my idea of what racing should be. Kolby Barnes was running around NASCAR like a three-year-old in the middle of a nasty divorce, trying to find out which parent cared enough to spank his goddamn ass.

“They’ve got him under now. Seventy-two hours is the minimum time the doc wants his brain at rest before he tries bringing him up again. That’s all there is to know.” I lifted my hands.

“Well, me and Bliss’ll hang around until after the press conference. I think your mama should stay with us for a few nights. You’re welcome, too, or are you plannin’ to get back to school tonight?”

“I’m not leaving until Dale opens his eyes.” Caine still refused to look at me so I stared at the ragged hole at the base of his fly. “What time’s this press conference?” Maybe there was time to make a run to the house to get my brothers some decent clothes. They couldn’t go on national television looking like they just got off shift at Chippendale’s.

“I’m sure George wants to make the evening news on the East Coast, but nobody’s said for sure yet.” Jamie put an arm around my shoulder, but he stared through the doors at Mom’s retreating form. “I’m not sure how well Macy’s gonna hold up on camera.”

The cool hospital air pressed nervous sweat to my skin like an unlined woolen coat, but inside my head, the buzzing sound that’d been with me since the wreck cranked up a notch.

Richard and George England huddled together at the far end of the corridor. I read Kolby’s name on Rick’s lips a couple of times. The longer I watched, the more certain I became that they were up to no good. They’d have time to make up some line of bullshit to feed Dale later, while they smoothed things over right now, for Kolby motherfucking Barnes.

If I let them.

But England was the president of NASCAR, and I was plain old Shelby Roberts, a college student who’d graduate without her father there to see her biggest achievement.

I turned to stare through the glass doors. The nurses’ scrubs were bright splashes of color amid unrelenting white, but the sight made my blood boil. Dale had given up driving because he wasn’t willing to risk his life when he had two infant sons to raise.

And he’s safer now than he was amid his friends.

Colt stalked past the nurse’s station and strode through the ICU doors. Bright spots of color rode above the pallor of his cheeks. He refused to look up. Mom trailed him by several feet, sobbing. He halted at my side, staring at the floor.

“Did you cry in front of Dale?” I demanded, grabbing Mom’s arm as soon as she came within reach.

“I-I didn’t!” Macy jerked free. “Tell her, Colt.”

I hissed. “You better’ve been Mary fucking Sunshine.”

Mom burst into tears. “He’s so still and so pale, I can hardly tell where he stops and the sheets start. And, dear God, all those machines.” She narrowed her eyes. “We need to sue the fuck out of NASCAR and Kolby Barnes.”

“Mother. Fucker. That’s the last thing you need to be thinkin’ about,” Caine muttered. He turned on me. “Get rid of your boyfriend and his daddy, Shelby. They paid their respects, now they need to move on. We don’t want that two-bit shyster all up in our shit.”

George England nearly broke his ankle, turning to stare when Senior popped out of the waiting room and headed for the spot where we stood. From the look on George’s face, the NASCAR exec recognized Kossel from his billboard photos. Robert trotted at his father’s heels.

Just... fuck me sideways. Out of everything Dale’s done to inspire me—and all those people outside—Mom’s inspired by Robert fucking Kossel? The man who makes a living off other people’s misfortunes?

Yeah. Caine’s right. They gotta go.

“M
acy, calm down, honey. Did they let you see Dale?” Senior tugged her hands from her face so he could bend his knees and stare into her eyes. The way he stroked her bare arm—
no.
If I had to watch this man paw my mother, I’d puke all over his shoes.

“Oh, Robert, what’ll I do if he never wakes up?” Mom wailed. 

I twisted the diamond around and around my finger.

Mr. Kossel nodded like some county fair swami while Mom described the tube down Dale’s throat and the one down his nose. My stomach churned. Much as I was concerned for Dale, I grew more worried by the second that Caine might haul off and punch the attorney.

Senior treated Mom to a show of sorrowful eyes. “Don’t you worry your pretty head over a thing, Macy. I’ll do everything in my power to be sure y’all are taken care of. I’ve been followin’ this problem between Dale and his driver for a couple years now. Ever since Robbie told me he’d met a NASCAR crew chief’s stepdaughter.”

Senior tucked Mom’s hand in the crook of his arm. The bastard’s smile had just the right blend of sadness and sex appeal. The anger rolling off Caine made me fidget with the hem of my sleeve while I tried to figure out what to say to make the lawyer leave.

“I expected the situation to come to a head, and I gotta say, I’m not surprised it ended this way. I’ll be as close as your phone. Help you untangle the hospital bills. Whatever you need. Such a shame that NASCAR employees don’t have pension funds, but if it comes down to that, we’ll get his Social Security goin’. And, natuLowe, NASCAR has some liability here, as well as Barnes.”

Pension fund? Social Security?
I blinked in alarm. Dale was getting up and going back to work.

Except... wouldn’t Kossel know more about injuries like Dale’s than I could ever hope to? He’d said he watched the video. Did he think Dale would—

“God. Fucking. Dammit.” Caine gave me a pointed look and tipped his head toward the elevator.

Senior tried a smile on Mom. “Well, at least we have some good news. I assume you’re as delighted as I am about the children gettin’ engaged?”

“Engaged?” Mom blinked.

The sudden shift in topic made me hide my hands behind my back. I didn’t want to talk about the engagement. I wanted to talk about Dale.

“Oh, yes. Robbie gave Shelby a diamond a few weeks ago.” The attorney frowned. “Haven’t you and Dale heard about this? They’re moving in with my daughter after graduation. Shelby already has a job workin’ for the city manager in Columbia.”

“See?” Robert grabbed my hand and lifted it for Mom to see. “Finally got her to say yes.”

“You’re getting married? Moving to Columbia?” Mom’s eyes filled with tears. “And you didn’t tell me?”

Like you told me ahead of time that you were getting married?

Jerking my hand out of Robert’s, I spoke through gritted teeth. “We could’ve discussed it last time I saw you, but we got... sidetracked.”

“Like hell.”

The angry bark caused me to jump two inches. Caine set his feet about two yards apart. His arm muscles popped when he folded them over that mile-wide chest.

Standing in a minefield of emotions, all I could do was stare at his bellybutton and ache to swirl my tongue around the dip.

Not now, brain! Stay focused.

Caine’s voice vibrated with outrage. “Did you just tell my sister that you put sonny boy up to proposin’ to her because you thought there’d be a big payday in it for your firm if you could get your foot in the door with this family before Dad and Kolby came to blows? Now, I’m just a country boy, but I’d swear, that’s what I heard.”

Heat flooded my cheeks. How could Caine insinuate something so farfetched?

Except... hadn’t Robert said something similar earlier today?
Don’t worry. Dad already has a strategy mapped out.

Why would Kossel form a strategy for something that hadn’t happened?

If I hadn’t been staring at Senior, I would’ve missed the flicker in his poker face. His eyes slid to a point above my left shoulder, then back to my face.

You slimy bastard
.
Have you been watching the races, pulling for Kolby and Dale to come to blows?
Robert would do anything for his father, same as I would for Dale. I didn’t think he’d be so calculating, but I had no trouble believing his old man could manipulate him. Because when it came to Senior, Robert saw greatness. Nothing else.

Like me, whenever I looked at Dale. The dull throb at the back of my neck picked up speed.

For a man determined to get a ring on my finger, it’d always seemed odd that Robert had no problem letting days or weeks pass without contact. His laid-back approach to our relationship suited me just fine, but I had to be honest. Robert didn’t seem to want to commit to anything but putting a ring on my hand.