K. Bromberg - Crashed

“You’re a quick learner,” Colton teases.

Dr. Irons just sighs again, trying to fight the smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Normally I’d tell you that getting back in the car is a bad idea. That your brain has been jarred around enough and even when your skull is fully healed, it will still have a weak spot where the bone has reconnected and that could be dangerous … but I know no matter what I say you’re going to be back on the track, aren’t you?”

I have no option but to sit down now because despite how calm I appear on the outside, my insides have just been shredded by Dr. Irons’ correct assumption.

Colton blows out a long breath and looks out the window for a bit, and for just a moment I notice the chink in his armor. It’s fleeting, but it’s there nonetheless. He may never admit it, but he’s scared to get in the car again. Scared to recall the moments during the crash that he can’t remember right now. Afraid he might get hurt again. And he’s so consumed by his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that he’s withdrawn his hand from mine.

“You’re right,” he finally says, and chills immediately blanket my body. “I will. I have no other choice … but I’ll follow your advice and wait until I’m medically cleared. I’ll have my doctors in California connect with you to make sure nothing is missed.”

Dr. Irons swallows and nods his head. “Okay, well I’m going to bank on the fact that you’re a sensible guy … well, as sensible as one can be that drives two hundred miles an hour for a living.” Colton smiles at the comment. “I’ll be back to check on you later.”

Dr. Irons leaves and for a moment there is an awkward silence between the four of us. I imagine it’s because all of us are secretly wondering what it’s going to be like if—no when—he hops back in the race car, but no one says anything.

Dread weighs heavy on me, and I have no clue how I’m going to be able to handle it. How I’m going to be able to watch him climb inside a car nearly identical to the one he almost died in.

Colton breaks the startled silence. “Becks?”

“Yeah.” Becks steps forward and stares at his friend.

“Make sure to tell Eddie that he needs to get my records from Dr. Irons so we can study my injury. See how we can make it complement the HANS even better.”

I know Colton is talking about the top secret safety device he was wearing during the accident. The one that CD Enterprises is getting ready to submit for patent protection, so I’m not sure why Beckett’s face falls. I watch his eyes dart over to Tawny momentarily, a flash of worry flickering through them, before looking back at Colton.

“What, Becks? What aren’t you telling me?” Obviously Colton notices the reaction too.

Becks clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “You fired Eddie a couple of months ago, Colton.”

“What? C’mon, Becks. Quit fucking with me and just get the records for him, okay?”

“I’m not fucking with you. A second set of schematics disappeared. With his gambling debts and other issues, too many factors pointed to him, so you fired him,” Beckett says as Colton’s eyes flicker around the room, his head toggling back and forth as if he’s trying to comprehend what he’s being told.

“Seriously?” When Becks just nods, Colton looks over at Tawny and she nods too. “Fuckin’ A,” he grits out as he rolls his shoulders and stares out the window for a moment before looking back at Beckett. “Stealing? I don’t remember that at all.” His voice is dead quiet and full of disbelief.

I reach out and squeeze his hand, causing him to look over and meet my eyes. “Hey, it’s okay. It’ll come back. It’s only temporary,” I say, trying to reassure him as best as I can.

“But … if I don’t remember something like that, what else don’t I remember that I don’t even know about?” His eyes swim with confusion and he grimaces momentarily causing my heart to speed up with worry.

“Don’t worry about it, dude. Think of all the crap you can claim amnesia on that normally you’d get shit for.”

Thank God for Becks and his easygoing personality because even though I can still see Colton struggling as he tries to grasp everything, I can also feel some of the tension relax from his hand that I’m holding. I meet Becks’ eyes, a silent thank you passing between us.

Tawny clears her throat softly and all of a sudden it’s like we all snap from our private thoughts with the sound. Colton breathes in deeply and says, “Tawny, I need you to issue a press release right away.”

“What would you like it to say?” Ms. Ever-efficient asks while walking to the bedside opposite me, as Colton gathers his thoughts. And with just the slightest glance my way, she refocuses on him and softens her voice. “Colton?”

“Yeah?” he answers, raising his eyes to meet the question in her voice.

She reaches out and squeezes his bicep, her eyes roaming over his wound before withdrawing her hand when he doesn’t respond. “I’m so glad that you’re okay.”

I can hear the sincerity in her voice—know she means it—but it still doesn’t make me like her any more.

“Coulda been a lot worse from what I’m told, so I’ll get there.” Colton takes a sip of water while his brow furrows in concentration. “Tell them I’m awake and have been for a day or so. I’m on the road to recovery and will be heading back to California within the week, once I’m cleared, and returning to the track in no time. Thank them for their support and prayers, and instead of any flowers or gifts, I’d rather they make a donation to Corporate Cares. The boys need it more than I do.”

Tawny looks up from her phone where she’s typing all of this and asks, “What about your memory loss?”

“None of their business,” Colton says, glancing up at Becks again, a silent understanding passing between them. “That’s all.” Tawny lifts her focus from her phone and looks at Colton as if she doesn’t understand. “You can go now,” he says to her, and I have to hide the look of shock on my face at the unexpected dismissal.

Tawny’s head snaps up as she shoves her phone in her purse. “Well, um, okay,” she says, color staining her cheeks as she heads for the door.

“Hey, Tawn?” Colton’s words stop her and the acid in his tone surprises the hell out of me.

“Yes?” she asks as she turns around to face the two of us side by side.

“After you issue the press release, you can get your stuff and head back home.”

She angles her head and stares at Colton for a moment, confusion flickering over her face. “It’s okay. It’s better if I stay here and deal with the media—”

“No,” Colton says. “I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.” Tawny’s tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip as nerves start to eat at her. She takes a step toward the bed as he begins to explain. “We’ve known each other, what? Most of our lives? Long enough for you to know that I don’t like being fucked with.” Colton leans forward as her eyes widen and I hold my breath in disbelief at the ice in his voice. “You fucked with me, T. And more importantly you fucked with Rylee. Now that? That I most definitely remember. Game over. Pack your shit. You’re fired.”

I hear Beckett suck in a breath. At the same time Tawny sputters out, “Wh-what? Colton, you—”

“Save it.” Colton holds up a hand to stop her and shakes his head in disappointment. “Save your ridiculous excuses and go before you make things any worse for yourself.”

She just stares at him, blinking away the tears before glancing over at Beckett, spinning on her heels, and rushing out of the room.

I watch her leave, trying to fathom what it would be like to be in her shoes. To lose both your job and the man you’ve believed is yours.

And as I hear Colton breathe out a huge sigh beside me, I actually feel sorry for her.

Well … not really.

A muffled sound pulls me from sleep. And I’m so tired—so wanting to sink into the blinding oblivion because I’ve had so little sleep over the past two weeks—that I keep my eyes closed and write it off as the purr of the jet’s engine. But because I’m now awake, when I hear it a second time, I know I’m wrong.

I open my eyes, startled at what I see. The sight of my reckless bad boy—eyes squeezed tight, teeth biting his bottom lip, and face painted with the grief that courses down his cheeks—coming completely undone in disciplined silence. I’m momentarily frozen with uncertainty.

I’m uncertain because I’ve felt a disconnect between us in the past few days. On the one hand I felt like he was trying to push me away—keep me at arms’ length—by keeping all discussions superficial. By saying his head hurts, that he needed to sleep, the minute I brought up any serious subject.

And then there were the odd moments when he thought I wasn’t paying attention to him when I’d notice him looking at me from the reflection in the room’s window with a look of pained reverence, one of longing laced with sadness. And that singular look always caused chills to dance over my flesh.

He hiccups out a sob and opens his eyes slowly, the pain so evident in them, my grown man scarred by the tears of a scared little boy. He looks away momentarily and I can see him trying to collect himself but only ends up squeezing his eyes shut and crying even harder.

“Colton?” I shift from my reclined position, starting to reach out, but then pulling back in uncertainty because the absolute desolation reflected in his eyes. My hesitation is answered by Colton looking at my hand and shaking his head as if one touch from me will crumble him.

And yet I can’t resist. I never can when it comes to Colton.