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I just needed to catch my breath for a second.
This was a lot for me. I had to deal with the media for a couple of years, and every single time I did, it made me anxious and nervous. Did they want to talk to me because I was a great driver or because I was a gay driver? It was probably both now that I thought about it. My car owners were queer. My brother and Carson were also gay, as were Jones and Charlie, but I didn’t want that to define me. I kept off-track me separate from on-track me. I didn’t wear makeup or dress too flashy when the season was going on. I didn’t want to bring that sort of attention to myself or the organization. I didn’t want to disappoint Watts or Holt.
I placed my palms against my thighs as my head finally stopped spinning. All I wanted to do right now was go back to my RV, drink a gallon of water, and take a shower. It felt like I sweated right through this fire suit, and since the qualifying had ended a couple of hours ago, I was sure I didn’t smell all that great either.
Gathering myself together, I started walking. I was mentally and physically exhausted on top of everything else. This was just the start of the season. I had thirty-six races to get through before I wasn’t a rookie anymore. I smiled at the thought. I had always wanted this, but I had hoped things were going to be different by the time I hit the big time. I thought I would be married, maybe even a father, with the way we had talked about our future. I never thought I would find someone who understood me, who loved me, and it turned out Andy hadn’t felt that way at all. When he broke up with me, I was devastated. I never saw it coming, and it broke my heart, even if I told him I was on the same page. I had managed to recover.
Kind of.
Crying and throwing things helped a lot. And lots of love from my family and friends.
Andy was, and still is, the only one I had been with. Although we never had penetrative sex, we had done most everything else. Kissing, hand jobs, more kissing, rimming, and lots of rutting. I still remembered the first time he kissed me, our first official date, while we were skating at the rink his father’s hockey team practiced at. Andy had just gone for it right in front of his other father and my brother. I knew from that moment that he was the one I was meant to be with.
But I missed him. The closeness we shared, the cuddling, laughing, and, okay, the kissing. Now that I was a little older, I knew that splitting up was for the best. We were so young and had our whole future ahead of us, but I never could get close enough to anyone else like I did Andy. I went out on dates from time to time, only to find myself distracted with memories. I never wanted anyone else’s mouth against mine. I only wanted Andy’s hands on my body, his voice whispering how much he loved me and how beautiful I was.
Andy was a huge superstar now. Bungalow Princess was a multi-award-winning band, and I couldn’t have been prouder. The nights they practiced in the basement of the Olson home until nearly two in the morning, the shows that they played around North Carolina, the endless Facebook and Instagram posts had paid off. Andy, Felix, and Ford were plastered on every magazine, all over social media, and their concerts sold out in record time every time.
I was happy for them, even if it broke my heart.
I stopped short when I saw a figure sitting outside my RV. It wasn’t my brother, who was still doing media, so unless it was my best friend Ezra, it had to be another driver. I wasn’t particularly close to a lot of drivers. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but I was a rookie this year. Noel and Carson were the guys I hung out with the most, but they were my teammates, my brother, and my best friend’s husband. There was another rookie, RJ Shepard, who was also the son of NASCAR champion Rand Shepard, who I got along with, and he was someone I could call a friend. We ran together in Xfinity last year, got along well, but his RV was parked on the other side of the field, and he was sharing with his father.
The figure stood up, and I gasped when I recognized him.
“Congratulations, Ricky. I’m so proud of you.”
Andy Olson stepped into the light. His dirty-blond hair flopped into his hazel eyes, longer and messier than I remembered. He was still as gorgeous as ever, if not better. My body began to hum just from being this close to him. He always had that effect on me.
I wanted to run to Andy. Hug him and wrap my arms around him, tell him how much I still loved him; how much I missed him. Only I didn’t.
“What are you doing here?” I barked. “You’re supposed to be on tour with the band.”
“It’s nice to see you, too.” He smiled at me, his face lighting up like the morning sun. “Princess had a show last night, and I thought I would drop by to see you.”
I swallowed the lump in my throat. “Drop by? We haven’t been face to face in several years.”
Because you wanted to explore your options, and I was stupid enough to agree to that. Thinking that you’d miss me and come back. Beg me to forgive you.
“I’m really sorry about that, Ricky.”
“I don’t want to talk to you, Andy. I think you should leave.”
He stared at me with those hazel eyes. The ones I would have drowned myself in before he broke my heart. “Can I at least come in for a second so we can talk?” His voice sounded strained. And a little funny.
“Are you drunk? You said you would never become that guy.” Who was this man? Not the one I fell in love with. That person was long gone.
Andy shrugged as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “Don’t tell my dads.” He wobbled a little. He was going to fall over. I rushed to catch him, hoping he didn’t take me down with him. His six-foot-plus frame could easily take down my five-foot-eight one.
“Jesus Christ, you stink like a brewery.” I grunted as I tried to get him to stand back up. “Andy, you’re a lot bigger than I remember. Help a girl out here. I can’t carry you.”
He chuckled softly as he leaned down. “You going to take me into your RV, Ricky? Let me see where you sleep at night? Where you shower and get naked?”
“Stop calling me that.” I smacked his chest with the palm of my hand, only to encounter a solid wall of muscle.
That was new. He had always been all broad shoulders and thick arms, but nothing like this. It made my dick twitch, and I hated it.
Andy pressed his face into my neck. “You always liked that nickname.” His lips brushed my skin, and my traitor of a cock instantly reacted again.
I silently begged for some sort of control. My fire suit was not forgiving, and he would spot my hard-on in a second. I was strong, but Andy was my weakness.
