Barbara Dunlop - Overheated

Patsy nodded. “I believe you.”

“I don’t try to look like a trophy girlfriend.”

Patsy pulled back and took in Crystal’s plain white T-shirt, sensible shoes, her simple ponytail and minuscule makeup. “I know you don’t.”

“I wish I was forty, with wrinkles. Maybe a little gray hair.”

Patsy laughed. “No, you don’t.”

“Okay, maybe that is a bit too radical. But it would sure make this situation a lot easier.”

“Relationships are never easy,” said Patsy.

Crystal sighed. Patsy was a wise woman. If she and Dean were still struggling, what chance did Crystal and Larry stand?

WHEN HE SAW CRYSTAL AND Patsy exiting the motor home, Larry turned up the volume on the radio. Kent was doing a good job with the call-in show, and Larry hoped it would distract his brother from their argument. He’d wanted Crystal to be confronted with the reality of his family’s reaction to their relationship, but enough was enough.

“You can delude yourself all you want,” said Dean, cranking the radio back down and keeping his voice to a low growl. “But if you care about her, and if you’re half a man, you’ll walk away.”

Out of earshot, Crystal smiled at Larry as she walked down the short steps, arms laden with food for the barbecue. He returned the smile, but he didn’t like what Dean was saying. And he sure didn’t like the sense it was making inside his brain.

“You’re not what she needs,” Dean continued. “And you know it. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. You’d have punched my lights out ten minutes ago.”

Larry didn’t answer his brother. Instead he stared straight ahead and tried to pretend that Dean wasn’t right, that Dean wasn’t echoing the doubts that had been inside Larry’s head for the past two weeks.

After a long minute’s silence, Dean cranked the radio back up, and Kent’s voice filled the air.

“The folks at Maximus Motorsports and Vittle Farms have done an outstanding job of supporting the team this year. And the No. 427 team just keeps getting better and better. I don’t know if you saw my pit stops in Dover, Tammy, but we didn’t lose a second in the pits.”

“Well, I saw those Dover pits stops,” came the host’s voice. “And your crew was on fire. Our next caller is from Boise, Idaho. Go ahead, Jack.”

“Great to talk to you, Kent,” said the caller.

“Hello there, Jack,” came Kent’s jovial reply.

“Can you talk a bit about family rivalry? I see your Dad’s got the pole position for tomorrow’s race. How does that play into your strategy?”

“We’ll be chasing Dad and the No. 414 car along with everybody else. He may be wily, but I’m eager, and I don’t plan to be in his rearview mirror for long.” Then Kent’s voice got more serious. “The Cargill Motorsports team is having a phenomenal year, and I’ve no doubt it’s going to be a great race.”

“What about rumors of his retirement?” asked the host.

“You’ll have to talk to Dad on that one,” said Kent.

The host left a split second of dead air, then obviously accepted that Kent wouldn’t say anything further.

“He’s doing a good job,” Larry said to Dean.

Dean nodded. He was a veteran of many interviews, and he obviously knew they could get tricky, particularly when they were live.

“Next caller. We have Patrick from Charlotte. A hometown fan.”

“Hello, Kent?” came the caller.

“Hi there,” said Kent.

“I know there’s a lot of money involved in NASCAR. I wonder if you worry about scam artists.” The caller paused.

“I don’t follow you,” said Kent.

“Gold diggers,” explained the caller, his voice going hard. “Who take up, for example, with your uncle, who should know better than to be conned by a young, pretty face.”

There was a moment of stunned silence, both on the air and at the barbecue. Larry met Crystal’s gaze and saw the hurt in her green eyes.

He swore under his breath, rising from his chair to go to her.

“If you’re suggesting some of the team’s wives and girlfriends are beautiful,” Kent’s voice followed him, “I’d have to agree with you. My fiancée, Tanya, for example is a knockout. Love you, honey. And my spotter’s new fiancée could stop traffic-even at 180 miles an hour. As for the money in NASCAR, I think it’s a well-documented fact that racing is expensive. That’s why we appreciate the support of sponsors like Vittle Farms and, of course, Dawson Ritter and Maximus Motorsports. We couldn’t race without them.”

“We have to take a short break,” the announcer put in. “For some words from one of our favorite sponsors.”

“That was outrageous,” Patsy hissed.

Crystal’s lower lip trembled, but she put on a smile. “Kent did a great job deflecting. We’ll have to thank him for that. You have a very intelligent son.”

Larry drew Crystal into his arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“No worries,” she said, pulling back, and turning her attention to the table, brushing off some imaginary dust and straightening a fold that didn’t need straightening.

“Why do people have to fixate on age?” said Patsy vehemently.

“You’re joking,” came Dean’s dry voice as he joined them, opening the barbecue and picking up a pack of matches.

Patsy glared a warning at her husband.

He glared right back. “You’ve done nothing but fixate on my age for months.”

Larry was too stunned to immediately react. His brother and sister-in-law looked genuinely furious.

“Not now,” Patsy said, and Larry snagged Crystal’s elbow, easing her away from the married couple.

Dean slammed down the barbecue lid.

Patsy glanced around at the group of people studiously concentrating on other things. Obviously mortified, she fled into the motor home.

“Should I go after her?” Crystal asked Larry in a worried voice.

“Probably give her a minute.” He tilted his head to look at Crystal. “You okay?”

“Fine.”

“We should talk about this.”

“About what?”

He drew a sigh. “Don’t play dumb with me. I know your IQ, remember?”

“It’s one wing nut’s opinion. Patsy’s the one with the real problem.”

Larry sat down on a lawn chair, drawing Crystal sideways between his knees. “We can talk about it later.”

She crouched down to perch on his thigh, sending him a smoldering gaze. “Talking’s not what I’d planned to do later.”

IT WAS AN EMOTIONAL WEEKEND for Crystal and everybody else. Kent took third in the Pocono race, while Dean settled for fourth. Dean barely missed being caught up in a Bart Branch instigated pileup, which probably upset Patsy. She left the track before the end of the race.

By the time Crystal realized she was gone, it was too late to go after her, and nobody heard from her before Crystal and Larry packed up for home.

Saturday night had been glorious in Larry’s arms, but he’d been strangely quiet all day Sunday. And now, pulling up to Crystal’s staircase, he shut off the engine and angled his body to face her in the car.

“I promised myself I’d do this before I dropped you off,” he said.

She swiveled to face him, bracing her back against the car door, making out his face in the stark white of the parking lot lights. “Do what?”

“I think…” He paused and pulled his hand over his chin. “I think we need to stop seeing each other.”

Crystal’s stomach plummeted, and her entire world shifted beneath her. “What?” she barely rasped, desperately hoping she’d misunderstood.

But he nodded his head. “I’ve been giving this a lot of thought.” He choked out a self-deprecating laugh. “A hell of a lot of thought.”

Crystal struggled to understand his bombshell. “Is this because of the call-in show?”

“It’s because of a lot of things.”

“The guy was a judgmental jerk.”

“But he hurt you.”

“He didn’t hurt me,” she protested. “He’s a total stranger.”

“I saw it in your eyes,” said Larry.

“You were thirty feet away.”

He gripped the steering wheel, focusing out the windshield. “I’m not the right guy for you.”

Real fear gripped Crystal. “Yes,” she insisted. “You are.”

He shook his head. “You want children.”

“Not that badly.”

He looked at her again. “You deserve children. I’ve seen you with Jennifer and David, and you’ll make a great mother.”

“And you make a great father. That doesn’t mean-”

“I am a father. That’s the difference.”

Crystal stared in silence at his implacable face. This couldn’t be happening. He couldn’t do this to her. She loved him. She was completely and desperately in love with him, and she couldn’t imagine her life going forward any other way.

“I don’t understand,” she tried.

“I love you,” he said.

She shook her head in denial. “If you loved me-”

“Because I love you, I’m walking away. I’m not what you need.”

“You’re exactly what I need.”

He reached for her hand across the dim front seat. “You need someone younger. Someone in the same space of life as you.”

She gave a cold laugh, yanking her hand away from his. If she was forced to endure his gentle touch, she’d burst into tears. She had to stay strong here. She had to somehow convince him he was wrong.

“And what space of life is that?” she asked.

“Starting a family, not finishing one off.”

She felt a spurt of anger. “Is that how you see yourself? Finishing off.”

“I’m fifty years old.”

“Yeah, you’re fifty, not eighty-five.”

“Crystal.”

“Don’t Crystal me. There are two of us in this relationship. It’s not all up to you.”

“It’s for your own good.”

“If you loved me, you would fight for me.”

“I am fighting for you. And the person I’m fighting is me. I’m walking away so that you can have the life you deserve. If you think this is easy for me-”