The Comeback (18 page)

“Then I don’t love you,” she lied.

Zack paled. She wanted to snatch the words back, she knew how keenly he felt rejection. But if his love wasn’t genuine, and she knew it wasn’t, even if he didn’t, the pain would be short-lived.

“I guess we both know where we stand then,” he said quietly.

See, he didn’t even argue. Didn’t try to convince her. He just left.

“T
O
R
ICHMOND
.” G
RIMLY
cheerful, Zack lifted his beer bottle in a toast.

Chad and Trent clinked their bottles against his. It was eleven o’clock on Tuesday night and they were alone at Matheson Racing. The race cars were ready to be hauled to Richmond tomorrow morning; the drivers and Chad would fly up in the afternoon.

“To the Chase,” Trent said. More clinking.

It was all very well for Trent to toast the Chase, Zack thought. His younger brother had an excellent shot at making it, and he oozed the confidence of a man who intended to capitalize on his opportunities.

“To the Bachelor of the Year,” Chad said, obviously wanting to offer something Zack had a good shot at. Zack decided to appreciate the gesture, rather than take it as an insult to his driving. Hell, he knew he’d only been invited to have a drink with the guys because Chad felt bad about Gaby and the whole family PR program thing.

Gaby. Her name made his gut ache. He’d told her he
loved
her, and she’d thrown it right back at him. Yeah, well, he was working at getting over the love thing. Hadn’t he always sworn not to love a woman who couldn’t put him first? Put their
relationship
first, he amended.

“You’re quiet tonight, Zack.” Chad grinned. “I mean, even quieter than usual. Worried about the race?”

“He has girl trouble,” Trent speculated.

That was the annoying thing about Trent. Despite his self-centeredness, he was uncannily in tune with other people. Zack thought about denying it, given that both his brothers were blissfully married. But, hell, there was enough competition between them without getting caught up in that one. He lifted one shoulder. “Looks like Gaby and I are finished.”

Chad eyed him closely. “Sorry to hear that.”

“No, you’re not,” Zack said. “You were mad at her.”

Chad laughed. He’d laughed so much since he and Brianna had gotten back together, sometimes he seemed like a different person. “Okay, I thought she was way out of line…you know, that day.”

Zack realized from his brother’s obscure words that Chad hadn’t told Trent about the PR stunt Zack and Gaby had pulled on the family. The thought warmed him. He couldn’t remember another occasion when he’d been privy to something Trent hadn’t. Not since they were kids, when Zack and Chad had kept secrets from their annoying little brother.

“Thing is about Gaby—” Chad’s voice saying her name startled Zack “—she’s a real tiger about defending you.”

Zack folded his arms. “Sometimes, yeah.”

“Are you kidding? Don’t you remember the way she laid into me and Dad?” Chad glanced at the curious Trent, obviously not wanting to elaborate.

She had laid into his father and Chad…but today, she’d refused to help him, and when she’d said she didn’t love him, Zack had felt as if the sky had fallen down on him. He drained his beer, suddenly exhausted. “I’d better get going.”

Chad eyed him critically. “Yeah, you need your beauty sleep if you’re going to win that bachelor contest.”

Zack forced a smile. No point mentioning he had no in
tention of attending the bachelor events. Richmond had to be all about the race.

“Time I left, too,” Trent said, surprising Zack. Trent was a night owl, he seldom went to bed before midnight, and stayed up until two the night before a race.

They walked out to the near-empty parking lot. Trent had his hands in his pockets, his head down, unusually contemplative. Maybe he was nervous about the race, too.

When they reached Zack’s truck, Zack drew a breath and said, “In case I don’t get the chance to say it again—” or, more likely, in case he couldn’t bring himself to say it again “—good luck making the Chase.”

Trent’s head jerked up in surprise, and Zack felt a twinge of shame.

“I’m sorry about you and Gaby,” Trent said. “She’s a great gal, and you deserve someone great.”

Zack blinked—where did that come from? “These things happen,” he said awkwardly.

“Not easy, though.” Trent punched him sympathetically on the arm. “Gaby was good for you. Heck, you even seem like a nice guy when you’re with her.”

That was more the kind of taunt Zack was used to, but this time there was no sting with it. He smiled. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so mellow toward his brother. “Gaby was good for me, but maybe not in the way you think.” He found himself telling Trent about the “family PR campaign,” about how calculated his good mood had been and how it had backfired.

“Man, I’d have loved to see Dad’s face when he heard that one.” Trent chuckled.

“Funnily enough, it’s not one of my better memories.” But Zack was smiling, too. “Anyway, I’m sorry I faked nice.”

“Hey, you weren’t
that
nice,” Trent scoffed. Then he sobered. “You know, just because you were consciously working on the relationship, that doesn’t mean you were faking it.”

“How do you mean?”

Trent shrugged. “It’s like me with my prerace routine. Just because Kelly spent a lot of time figuring out what worked and now that’s what I do each week…yeah, it’s contrived in that it’s intentional, but it’s still real. It’s still me. It’s just finding the part of me that works, and going with that, instead of all the other parts of me that get in the way of my racing.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” Zack said.

“I might not have done as well as you in school, but I’m not a total airhead.”

Zack laughed, recalling that Trent and Kelly had met after she’d called him an airhead on national television. “Thanks, Trent,” he said, his heart lighter than it had been since he’d fought with Gaby.

Which might have been a mistake, but he’d think about that after Richmond. This weekend, the race came first.

Zack opened the door of his truck.

“I have a confession to make, too,” Trent said.

“What’s that?”

Trent’s gaze slid away. “That crash, four years ago…”

Zack froze. Around them, the night air turned suddenly chill, as if they’d been sucked into a refrigerator.

“Leave it, Trent.” Zack didn’t want to dwell on the past, not now.

Trent shook his head—he’d never taken orders from Zack before, why would he start now? “I always told you there was no way I could have avoided the crash,” he said.

Zack heard the words in slo-mo, had a horrible feeling he knew exactly what was coming next. Every instinct screamed at him to stop his brother…and yet, it was like watching a car slide across the race track after it had hit the wall. Wanting to yell at the driver to
do something,
but knowing bigger forces were at work, that stopping it was beyond the realm of one man’s powers.

“I lied,” Trent said.

T
HE WORDS HUNG THERE
—stark, shocking, betrayal.

Zack took a step backward, bumped against his truck. “You knocked me out on purpose?”

The shake of Trent’s head came as a relief. Because if Trent had crashed into him deliberately, the last eight months of effort had been pointless—there was no hope they could ever be part of the same family.

“But I didn’t go out of my way to avoid you,” Trent confessed.

Zack’s mouth dried; his words came out chalky. “Meaning what?”

“I could have steered around you.” Trent swallowed. “There was time.” No one was a better judge than Trent of the finer nuances of an opportunity to pass. “But there was a chance—a good chance—I’d have scraped Justin Murphy.”

“Scraped.” Zack tried to make sense of it.

“Scraped, nudged, bumped.” The wave of Trent’s hand indicated impatience with semantics. “Probably not a big scrape. I was pretty sure I could get away with it…but not a hundred percent.”

“You didn’t want to risk Murphy retaliating,” Zack said.

“You know what he’s like when something gets his dander up.” The old-fashioned word was one of Brady’s favorites—the thought of his father and the rift between them, which had been made worse by the events of the day they were talking about, made Zack’s chest ache. Trent said, “I didn’t want Murphy coming after me and putting me out of the race.”

Four years ago, that might well have happened, Zack conceded. Justin Murphy was a more mature, settled driver now, and so was Trent. But back then, they’d all had something to prove.

“So you had a choice,” he said. “Scrape Murphy, then spend the rest of the race watching your back, or put me into the wall and get clear ahead.”

Trent looked as if he wanted to deny that the choice had been that bald, that selfish. But he said, “Yeah.”

“And you knew that putting me into the wall would likely mean I couldn’t make the Chase.”
Because let’s be quite clear about the consequences of that decision.
Zack almost hoped his brother would deny it…though Trent was plenty smart enough to have figured it all out.

“Yeah,” Trent said.

Zack felt as if someone had his heart in their fist and was twisting, squeezing. Back then, bitterly disappointed, he’d accused Trent of deliberately sacrificing him. Deep down, he hadn’t believed it. Hadn’t believed his own brother could do that.

Now…he didn’t know what to think. A mishmash of emotions pummeled him. Anger, betrayal, relief that the past four years of strain hadn’t been entirely his fault.

“Why are you telling me this now?” he demanded. “Are you trying to mess with my head, psych me out for Richmond?”

“No!” Trent recoiled. “I wanted to tell you you’re a great driver. That you have every chance of making the Chase—that getting knocked out four years ago wasn’t your fault. I don’t want that hanging over you.” He tipped his head back, so he was gazing at the sky. “I was so relieved when you said you were coming back, I thought we could put the past behind us. But it’s not that simple, is it?”

Zack shook his head.

“That’s why I told you. I hope, when you get over the shock, it’ll help.”

Was Trent crazy? How could it help to know his own brother had betrayed him?

“Zack.” Trent’s voice deepened. “I’m sorry.” He opened his mouth as if to say more, then he shut up.

Zack appreciated that. No excuses, no explanations.

Trent turned and walked away toward his fancy sports car.

Zack sank into the driver’s seat of the truck, his mind reeling. Trent had hit him, pretty much deliberately…Zack’s anger hadn’t been unjustified…the choice had come down to him or Trent, and Trent had—

It was too much to handle right now. Maybe he could go see Gaby.

No. Zack hunched his shoulders. Gaby had made it clear where she stood, and it was no longer with him.

“W
HAT DO YOU MEAN
, you can’t find Zack?” Sandra looked so mad, Gaby wondered if it was possible to induce early labor by gnashing your teeth.

Gaby glanced out the window of the Matheson Racing hospitality suite.
He’s somewhere out there.
Her stomach roiled. Despite everything, she’d clung to the hope that Zack would turn up to this morning’s sponsor briefing, then to the bachelor events scheduled for tonight and tomorrow morning. That he’d meant what he said about loving her, and he would want to be here for her.

Nuh-uh. It was just Gaby, Sandra and two very unhappy clients.

“I guess he had something important to do for the race.” Gaby at least wanted to remind them there was a bigger picture here.

“I want to give him this for tonight.” Rob Hudson held up a dress shirt with the Getaway Resorts logo on it. “We had it made specially.”

She had to give them the bad news. “I’m afraid Zack feels his racing—and your sponsorship—is best served by him
focusing on the race. He won’t be at the bachelor party and there won’t be any Olivia Winton interview.” She’d called Winton’s staff to cancel.

Rob Hudson slammed his hand down on the table. “We’re paying him to attend those events. He doesn’t get to pull out whenever the fancy takes him, not if he wants to keep our money.”

“This is totally unacceptable—you need to find your client,” Sandra told her, distancing herself from Gaby—normally it was
our
client. She folded her arms over her stomach. “If you want that promotion, Gaby, you will find Zack, and you will get him to the party and the Olivia Winton interview, and he’ll be on his best behavior.”

“Tell him if he doesn’t show up, he won’t have a sponsor,” Hudson said.

He didn’t sound as if he was bluffing. Images flitted through Gaby’s head. Her promotion, gone. Maybe even her job. And with it, her hope for independence.

She nodded wordlessly, gathered her papers and headed outside.

She had to find Zack. When she did, she would tear a strip off him and if necessary, drug him and drag him to that interview tomorrow.

She headed for the motor home park, but the guard wouldn’t let her in without Zack’s authorization. She called his cell; no answer. She tried Trent, and luckily he was in his motor home. He came out to escort Gaby into the lot.

“I need to find Zack,” she said. “He didn’t show up at the sponsor briefing—I need to convince him to come to the bachelor events.”

Was it her imagination, or did Trent look shifty?

“Getaway said they’ll pull out if he doesn’t turn up.” It was risky, telling Trent that, but she was desperate.

Trent swore. “He was in his motor home earlier. Maybe he’s just not answering his phone.”

At Zack’s motor home, Gaby knocked on the door.

“Do it like this,” Trent said. He pounded on the door with his fist and yelled, “Zack, you chicken-livered son of a gun, open up!”

Gaby took a step back in alarm.

Zack didn’t answer the door.

“That brother of mine needs to face facts,” Trent said, minus his usual lighthearted demeanor.

“What’s going on?” Gaby asked.

“Ah, hell, I guess I have to tell you, too,” Trent said, disgusted. “Come back to my place.”

“I don’t have time, I have to find Zack.”

“There’s something you need to know,” Trent said.

In Trent’s state-of-the-art motor home, Gaby sat on a leather couch, Kelly curled up beside her. Trent took a seat on the other side of the living area. He leaned forward, hands clasped between his knees. “I’ll tell you exactly what I told Zack last night.”

By the time he finished, Gaby was trembling with shock and anger. “All these years,” she accused, “you let him carry the responsibility for the breakdown of your relationship.”

“I’m sorry,” Trent said.

Kelly patted Gaby’s hand sympathetically; she’d obviously heard this before. Or maybe, being a psychologist, she was unshockable.

“I know Zack’s a jerk sometimes,” Trent concluded.
Runs in the family,
Gaby thought, eyeing his handsome face. “But maybe he has a good reason.”

It couldn’t have been easy for Trent to confess to Zack, she realized.

“What are you going to do?” Kelly asked her. “There’s a lot at stake.”

She meant more than Zack’s sponsorship, Gaby knew. And in that moment, Gaby realized there was more than her promotion at stake, too. She loved Zack—nothing he said or did could change that.

She thought about Sandra’s and Getaway’s threats. If Zack’s declaration of love had been an attempt to manipulate her, what had Sandra and Getaway been doing, if not manipulation of their own?

There was no escaping that other people would try and use her for their own purposes and benefit. She had to decide whether or not to let them.

“If anyone’s going to manipulate me,” she said, “I want it to be Zack.”

Trent looked charmingly confused, but Kelly nodded.

“He likes to insist he’s single-minded about his racing,” Gaby continued, “but if you knew how much time he spends thinking about you guys, and Brady, and Chad…”

“Family matters to him,” Trent admitted. “No doubt about it.”

“He’s misguided,” she said, mainly to herself. “And he screws up—heck, does he ever screw up. But at heart, he’s a tender, loving guy.”

“Okay, that’s enough,” Trent said. Kelly threw a balled-up piece of paper at him but he dodged it.

Gaby stood. She headed for the door of the motor home.

“Where are you going?” Trent asked.

“Zack’s heart needs protecting,” she said, “and I’m the woman for the job.”

T
HE GARAGE AT
R
ICHMOND
was the usual hive of activity the day before the race, so Zack figured it was just him who felt as if everything was happening on mute, at a distance. It was as if he was in a vacuum—standing outside the hauler all alone, while around him, people went about their business. He hadn’t seen Gaby since she’d rejected his declaration of love, he wasn’t calm enough to talk to Trent, and Chad and Brady were occupied with their own concerns.

If Zack made the Chase, it would be all on his own efforts. At least he wasn’t doing those damn bachelor events. He should feel relieved. More confident about the race. But he
didn’t. He ached all over. Not the physical ache from racing that grew more pronounced the older you got—this ache was an awareness of a whole lot of things missing from his life. A knowledge that he’d screwed up.

Most of all, it was an I-miss-Gaby ache.

He tipped his head back, let the sun fall on his face. Sounds penetrated the cocoon he’d built around himself. Dave calling to the jackman. The hiss of an air gun as a tire was inflated. Two mechanics conferring loudly near the No. 548 car.

Beyond the garage, the buzz of fans had grown steadily in the last hour. On the infield, RVs maneuvered into position, the yells of frustrated dads mingling with the shrieks of overexcited kids.

Behind him, two fans high-fived each other as they snagged Kent Grosso’s autograph.

Zack absorbed it all—the sights, the sounds, the smells—and let the spirit of the race track seep into him. He looked around for someone who was as alone as he was…and didn’t find anyone. The fans, the teams, everyone was part of a group that gave them a sense of identity. Each group had a goal for the weekend, whether it was enjoying the race together, or teaming up to produce a winning race car.

In a blaze of clarity, the truth hit Zack. No way had he gotten here all on his own efforts. NASCAR wasn’t a solitary sport—it couldn’t be. Winning races was about being a team.

He might not be seeing eye to eye with many people right now, but his team was building the No. 548 car for the race at Richmond with all the dedication as if he was a hot contender for the Chase. They deserved victory—and if Zack didn’t make it, it wouldn’t be their fault.

It would be Zack’s. Because he’d cut himself off. From his family, who loved him in their screwed-up way. Today, from the fans who would not only vote for him in the bachelor
contest, but who also gave him encouragement that any driver needed out on the track. From Gaby, the woman he loved.

He’d asked her to take an enormous leap of faith—to risk her promotion, her future, for his decidedly shaky racing—and offered her nothing in return. Sure, he’d muttered something about love, as surprised to hear himself say it as she was. But beyond that…

His poor sweetheart. He groaned, drawing attention from a passing mechanic. Zack gave the guy a thumbs-up. He knew how wary Gaby was, how scared she was that a man would use her only to leave her again. He’d done nothing to reassure her. How could he demand that she prove her love for him, when he wasn’t willing to do the same?

I’m a jerk.
Zack ran a hand through his hair and faced the facts.

He could afford to lose the race. He couldn’t afford to lose Gaby.

R
YAN SPENT MOST OF
the NASCAR Nationwide Series race at Richmond fuming about Amber’s unreasonable attitude, the way she’d decided he was a sleaze when
she
was the one who’d said she didn’t want a serious relationship.

After that disastrous last date, he’d talked to his father and grandfather about Billy Blake, so he had some idea of where she was coming from. But it wasn’t as if he’d tried to deceive her or pretend he was anything he wasn’t.

Next time he saw her, he thought as he passed last year’s NASCAR Nationwide Series champion, he wasn’t going to let her get away with all that yelling. Nope, if anyone around here had a right to yell, it was him. She was out of line.

He wished she was here. He floored it past two more cars, almost pinging the wall.

Amber had been right about one thing. Ryan did love to race, but recently he’d been racing for his dad and granddad, for the Thorne tradition. It hadn’t been about his passion, as
it should be. And when he really thought about what he might say when he saw her again, he didn’t want to yell at her at all. He wanted, of all things, to look after her.

How soon could he get out of this car and tell her so?

“How many laps to go, Dad?” he said into his headset.

His dad made a choking sound. Then, in what had to be the most surreal moment of his life, Ryan saw the checkered flag ahead. Huh? How did that come up so fast? Who had passed it already?