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Chapter Twelve
Watson
I wasn’t expecting my father to show up at the track today. I was more than surprised and maybe even a little upset that he’d just dropped in without calling first, but not as pissed off as Holt. He couldn’t even look at me when he left, but when he didn’t say goodbye? It that stung more than anything my dad had ever said to me. We hardly argued about anything, but usually when we did, we made up right away.
“That’s your stepbrother, huh?”
I wrinkled my nose. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
Dad shrugged. “Nothing. I mean, he’s different. Not what I expected.” He flashed a quick smile. “You two are close.” Not a question.
“We are. He’s my best friend. I would be lost without him.” The words came so easily to me. Only having Holt mad at me? Yeah, I didn’t fucking like it.
Dad steepled his hands as he brought them to his chin. “You got him the job?” He waited for my answer with furrowed brows.
“Yeah, so? He’s good at it,” I snapped. “What’s with all the questions about Holt, Dad? You came here to see me, right?” I folded my arms over my chest. “I’m going to be late if I don’t head down to the garage, and Miles hates when I’m late. You going to come down and watch or just stay here?” Holt was going to be even more pissed at me if Dad stayed overnight. I would pay to put him in a hotel if it came down to that. I needed alone time with my boyfriend. Needed him to let me smooth things over.
Neither one of us spoke again until we were outside the garage. Then it was Dad that spoke again.
“You’re seeing someone, right? You mentioned that in your interview. He coming to this race, or is he already here?”
My stomach dropped. “No... He’s... Why?”
My throat was suddenly so dry, I could hardly swallow. Like when you take an aspirin without anything to drink, and it gets lodged there. My stomach churned slightly, and I realized exactly what this feeling was. It had been a while, but I would recognize it anywhere.
“Just thought I could meet your boyfriend, Watts, that’s all.” He gave me a smile that didn’t meet his eyes as he watched me.
He knew. He knew, and if he knew, did that mean everyone else might, too, or was he just trying to rattle me? I was going to be sick. My stomach flipped, and as much as I tried to push the thought down, push the feelings away, the sweat that had broken out on my skin was enough to make me stop to catch my breath. Fuck, I was going to be...
Too late. My breakfast came up, the coffee and eggs I had eaten before Dad showed up, right down my fire suit, but I was too stressed out to even care. I stopped, put my head down, and pressed my hands to my thighs. Anxiety clawed at my skull, at my mind, and all I wanted right now was Holt. He would help. He would know exactly what I needed. He always did.
“Watts?” Mason called to me from inside the garage. “Man, are you okay?” He sprinted across the building to get to me. “You look like you’re going to pass out. Uh, did you puke all over yourself? Maybe you should sit down. Holt!” When he called my boyfriend’s name, it was like music to my ears, and when I felt his hands on my face, I didn’t even care what everyone thought. Especially my father.
Holt’s face appeared before me. “Talk to me,” he whispered, tilting my face up. “Jesus, you’re burning up.” He looked blurry, but I think that might have been me. “Mason, get some water and napkins so I can clean him up.” He turned his attention to my teammate before his fingers brushed over my cheekbones. “What happened?” He helped ease me down into one of the metal chairs in the garage.
“He was fine a few minutes ago,” Dad answered, and I felt Holt’s fingers tighten against my skin.
I reached up to touch him. “Don’t, H,” I moaned. I knew he was going to lash out, tell him to back off, or worse. I didn’t want that. Not here. “I just... I’ll be okay. I need a second,” I assured my boyfriend.
“What did you say to him?” Holt, my shy, sweet, loyal Holt, actually sneered. “Did you say something hurtful to him or put him down? Is that what happened?” His hands were suddenly gone from my face. I immediately missed the contact.
“Boy, you better calm down.”
