Smokin' & Spinnin' (29 page)

My eyes widen with shock.

“I have never seen him like this.” She mumbles the last statement softly. “Oh, and your friend Brooke, she has been here since you arrived, but she had to leave to take a deposition. Ryan called her.”

Oh no! Brooke and Ryan together. What did he tell her?

Jerri eyes the look of distress on my face. “Sweetheart, this is a lot of information right now. I will fill you in on all the details. You are going to be just fine. Please rest.” She sighs and looks to the nurse as she reenters the room to administer my medication.

As soon as the nurse retreats again, Ryan is by my side and takes my hand. I steal a nervous look at Jerri, who is watching us intently. I turn back to Ryan, who I am forced to look at now. A huge sob wells up and out of my throat, cascading over my whole body.

“Hey,” Ryan whispers as he tightens the grip on my hand. “It’s OK.” His words summon the tears from my eyes, and they spill out onto my
cheeks. Ryan reaches up and gently caresses my face with his other hand.

Through my blurred vision, I look to Jerri. She looks to me, then back to Ryan, confused. Then, within an instant, I know she knows. She has just witnessed this intimate moment between us, and now she knows there is more between Ryan and me than work. Suddenly, I am embarrassed and ashamed of what I have done. I give Jerri a tearful apologetic look, then shift my gaze toward the ceiling as she quietly walks out of my room, leaving us alone.

The tears fall harder now. I believe they have been building from the time I moved to Charlotte over six weeks ago, and today’s accident was the coup de grace. Ryan takes a seat in the chair beside my bed, but doesn’t remove his tight grip on my hand. He tries to calm me.

“Shhh…”

I am glad that he doesn’t say any more. There is too much to say, and I wouldn’t even know where to begin. I am thankful for his silence, too, because I’m groggy from the medication. Trauma and tears take over my body, and I succumb to the darkness again.

* * *

When I awake again, I notice that Ryan has not moved, but is asleep in the chair. I shift slightly and release my hand from his. He moves somewhat, but doesn’t wake up. He looks disheveled. I want to reach out to touch him, to comfort him, but I don’t. He doesn’t deserve it. His trademark attitude and arrogance are the reasons why I am lying in this hospital bed. It seems that I have awakened with some new determination. I have been slapped in the face with a new resolve. And now I know what I have to do.

Ryan shifts and opens his eyes. He looks at me intently when he finds my eyes fixed on him. “Are you OK?” He speaks softly.

I nod, stock still. “Ryan, it is probably best if you go,” I say quickly and calmly while I have the strength.

A look of shocked horror washes over his face. “Whitney! Why? I’m not leaving you,” he says firmly.

Tears spring to my eyes, and I look away. “I can’t do this anymore,” I say quietly. “Just please go.”

“Whitney, please…” he pleads.

I hold up my IV-laced arm to stop him from speaking further.

Ryan fumbles, shocked from my dismissal. “Whit, please!”

I close my eyes to remove the hurt look on his face from my mind, but I can still hear his wounded voice.

Desperate, Ryan stammers, “I…I…I swear I never saw you…”

I shake my head at him, not wanting to hear what he has to say. I can’t bear it.

Even though his actions, anger, and hot temper are the reasons that I lie in the hospital bed, my actions and my choices were the catalyst for it all. I recognize that now. Although I tried to do what was right with Colton, it all blew up in my face, literally. Now, Ryan is suspended, and Colton is out of a job, which completes the trifecta.

“I will turn in my resignation to Jerri tomorrow,” I add quickly.

In frustration, Ryan paces the room. He is furious. He tries to meet my gaze, but I continue to stare into space. He quickly retreats to my side. “Whitney, look at me!”

I comply, and his eyes search mine.

“We can get through this. I know we can!” he exclaims.

The sobs creep back up into my throat, and I couldn’t speak even if I wanted to, so I simply shake my head with my eyes closed.

I take a deep breath with the help of the oxygen tube under my nose, but my chest lurches in pain. “Ryan, I am sorry,” I manage to say softly. What I am apologizing for is unknown to me at the moment.

Ryan stands firm and snaps, “No!”

The distress in his voice is enough to throw me over the edge. Tears flood my cheeks and burn the injury to my face. I am so embarrassed that I can’t control them. Ryan walks to my other side so that I am forced to look up at him. I can’t bear it. I can’t look at him, or I know I will change my mind. I look up to the ceiling as tears steadily flow down my cheeks.

Ryan pleads with me once more, “Whitney! Why are you doing this?” And then suddenly it’s quiet.

I feel him leave, and the small click of the hospital room door confirms that Ryan Carter has left the building. As the door closes, panic seizes my chest again, this time with ardent force. The tears that flow like a river down my face ignite a raging rapid of sobs that rack my body. I can’t fight them. I can’t even breathe. It took everything I had to make Ryan leave.

This emotional trauma is reflected in my physical vital signs because my monitors ring out in alarm. Within a moment, Jerri and a throng of nurses flood my room. I am surrounded by a circle of wide-eyed caregivers who are desperate and determined to find out the cause for alarm. Jerri must know, but she stands silent in the back with an anxious look all her own.

Several nurses frantically shout a series of incoherent questions at me while another one administers a drug into my IV. I hope whatever she slipped me takes the agonizing pain from my chest. The pain paired with the sobs make it impossible for me to speak or even breathe. I am able to make out the word “shock” from one nurse. Yes, shock would be right, but not from the trauma of the accident. It would be shock from the trauma of a broken heart. And those are my last thoughts as darkness consumes me again.

* * *

I don’t know how long I have been sedated, but I begin to hear voices. I feel woozy and disoriented. Where am I? I stir around in my bed, willing my eyes to open. They feel like lead balloons that weigh a thousand pounds each. I finally manage to open them.

I look around and quickly remember that I am in the hospital. I only see Brooke and my mother talking candidly while Brooke flips through a magazine,
Cosmopolitan
, probably. My eyes sweep the room again, no Ryan. Finally, they notice that I am awake and immediately they are by my side.

The pain is still present in my chest, like a vise grip that is firmly placed over my heart. The only thing that is helping me breathe is the oxygen tube that runs under my nose. It must show on my face because Brooke looks concerned as she takes my hand.

“Hey!” she mumbles in a whisper.

I look at her with fresh tears in my eyes. “It wasn’t a dream, was it?” And, I am not referring to the accident.

Tears spring to Brooke’s eyes. She is unable to speak, so she only shakes her head no. Wow! Brooke at a loss for words. That is a first. On that note, I fall back into the depths of sedation.

Chapter 31

T
he hospital releases me to my mom the next day once they have determined that my blood pressure has stabilized. Jillian is in full caregiver mode, which I love. Her presence alone is comforting. I have missed my mother more than I realized. She is bustling around the apartment cooking and taking care of me, although my medication causes me to sleep throughout most of the day.

The pain in my leg is unbearable at times. I experienced a clean break in my upper fibula, but the force of the impact from Ryan and Colton’s car, and the way that I fell onto the concrete, caused the fracture to rip the ligaments in between the knee and the bone, which is the reason I needed surgery and several pins to stabilize my leg. And that is also why I needed a fiberglass cast up to my thigh, hot pink—the cast, no less. Thanks to Brooke! The doctor said it must be kept stable, with no ability to move, in order to heal properly.

I attempt to contact Jerri several times during my lucid moments, but I don’t get a response. I suspect Ryan told her that I was quitting and she is avoiding me. Sometime in the evening, I believe I hear a knock on my door, but I chalk it up to my pain medications. Then a
conversation of other voices in my home confirms my suspicious. My heart skips a few beats. Oh my God! Is it Ryan?

I silently hope that it is Ryan. I briefly second-guess my decision to send him away from the hospital, but shake my head to fling those thoughts from my brain.

My mother nervously knocks on my bedroom door and peeks inside. “Darling, are you up for visitors?”

I smile anxiously and slowly sit up in bed as best as I can. Jillian has my leg propped up under a million pillows, to the point that you can only see my leg when you walk in the room. “Sure, Mom,” I mumble.

I look up over the mountain of fluff and I am shocked to my core when Jerri and Garrett stoically make their way into my bedroom. What is this about? I smile warily at them both.

Jerri starts, “I am very sorry to drop in unannounced, but we wanted to visit you briefly to make sure that you were comfortable and that you have everything you need. I know you are in very capable hands, though.” She smiles at my mom, who takes her leave from the room.

Garrett looks pained yet conflicted as he begins, “Whitney, I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am.”

I nod, feeling a lump well up in my throat.

Jerri interjects. “We both are!”

“Thank you,” I whisper. “And thank you for everything you did for me, getting me to Charlotte and all.”

Garrett smiles, but looks tense. “Don’t thank me. It was the least I could do after my son nearly killed you.”

Gasp!

“And,” Garrett continues warily, “I have made arrangements with our team physician to come to you for your follow-up appointments. I understand from Jim that you will need weekly visits and physical therapy, but, rest assured, I will make sure that you are accommodated for it all.”

I nod in silent gratitude.

Jerri interjects softly, “I am working to extinguish the rumors and media reports that are swirling around the accident, and your involvement with Ryan.” I flush. Rumors? I don’t even want to know. I nod quietly again, mortified that Jerri knows about my relationship with Ryan.

“Whitney…” Garrett speaks again firmly, taking me by surprise. “I will get right to what I have to say because I know you need your rest. I understand you have intentions of resigning your position, but I need to discuss a few things with you before you make that decision.”

I nod, but my decision has already been made. It is clear there is a specific reason for their visit. It is like some sort of sneak attack, which would explain why Jerri has been avoiding my calls today.

Garrett wastes no time getting to the issue at hand. “If you insist on leaving GCR, if you follow through with your resignation, that is, Ryan will be fired, effective immediately.”

My medication must take over because I shout out, “That’s not fair!” Tears flood my eyes. This is not happening.
He can’t make me stay. Or
can he?
My pain meds are making me crazy! I shake my head, making a desperate attempt to pay attention to what Garrett is saying. Surely, I must be dreaming.

Garrett shakes his head and stands firm. “What’s not fair is that I have to come out of retirement to pick up the slack from this spectacle. So, let’s not talk fair. I want to talk fact. Since you joined our team, Ryan has made noticeable improvements every week. He has been in a slump since the season began, but he has been rapidly improving in the last few weeks, since you have taken over as his PR manager.”

I steal a “what the hell” glance at Jerri. She nods to me in agreement with Garrett. I knew Ryan was improving, but I had never, not once, attributed that turnaround to me, even when Bobby mentioned it to me in Kentucky.

Garrett continues to make his case. “I understand that you are upset with Ryan, as you should be, as we all are right now. The fact of the matter remains, you are good for my son.”

Confused, I interrupt. “Did he put you up to this?”

Equally confused, Garrett responds by shaking his head. “No. Ryan has disappeared. He has absolutely no idea that I’m here. In fact, I would like to keep it that way.”

I look back to Jerri for some type of guidance but receive none. She looks ashen.

“Whitney.” Garrett beckons my eye contact. I turn my eyes back to him as he speaks sincerely. “I need you on this team. Ryan needs you. At least say you will stay on with us until the season is over. By then we may have an option to switch you to another driver. I am very pleased with what you have done in my organization thus far, and I
don’t want my foolish son to drive you away. Especially when we all need you!” He finishes his sermon with a heavy sigh.

I am stunned. I look down at my hands, and tears prick my eyes. I started out as a lowly receptionist, not knowing a thing about NASCAR, and somehow became a key player in the GCR organization. Something about this just doesn’t seem right. Could I be the cause of Ryan’s turnaround? Tears began to fall softly on my cheeks. Garrett sighs again and looks at Jerri, then back to me.