Page 73 of Battle Scars

The plan is to celebrate tonight in a tavern not far from here. Dad swears it has sawdust floors and a live band every night of the week, or at least it did years ago.

But right now, we’re opening champagne on the big stage, because my dad won the last race of his career. The bottles pop, and champagne sprays all over Dad as he throws his head back and laughs.

When the track celebrations and interviews wind down, we head back to the hotel to change for the evening.

Gabe, Manny, and Eli have traveled with me to Texas for the race. Manny is off duty though. His family is near the race location, so he gets to spend the trip with them, and tonight, he’s bringing his wife, Marisol, to join us. He’s been in a great mood being back here.

Gabe has not been.

I shower off the sticky champagne from the race and let my hair dry in long, natural waves around my face. I apply soft makeup in shimmery pinks and golds and swipe a soft-pink gloss over my lips. This is the way I prefer to wear my makeup. The dramatic looks from the photoshoots are fun, but they aren’t really me. With my mom’s guidance in the fashion world, I found my own style along the way and I own it. This is the real me.

I pull on a pair of light-pink lace panties and then drop a sundress over my head, the spaghetti straps light and cool, the little pink and yellow flowers dotting the white fabric lending it a sweet vibe. It’s so hot in Texas, even at night, that the thought of wearing jeans or, God forbid, my DHR jacket was just too much.

I slip my diamond studs through my ears and slide my feet into leather sandals before grabbing my little bag from the desk in my hotel room. This hotel is a little older—vintage—and we’re all stacked in together with DHR all on one floor, both sides of the hall. The rooms are tight, and the walls are thin. I know without a doubt that I will be sleeping alone tonight.

After the explosion, Gabe and I didn’t go back to the close way we were living while he was protecting me, but he still comes to me every night. We don’t speak; we have sex and then fall asleep, and he’s always, always gone by morning.

It hurts, but I can’t deny that I’ve decided to take what he’ll give me, and I will deal with the fallout when he’s gone. And he will be gone sooner or later. He’s made it abundantly clear that staying in San Diego for any reason does not appeal to him in any way.

I also need him in a way I have never needed another man before. He’s a part of me now and there’s no going back. So even though I can’t keep him, I’ll take what he’s willing to give me, because that is better than nothing at all.

I’m not a doormat. It looks that way right now, but this is a conscious decision to exist within the boundaries that he’s erected. And afterward, I’ll move on with my life. Maybe I’ll get married and start a family, or maybe I’ll be the badass owner of DHR and never settle down. I don’t have a crystal ball that tells the future. Only time will tell.

I open my room door, and Eli is standing in the hallway waiting for me. His handsome face is now marked with a scar over his left eye that travels down to his cheekbone. He’s still one of the most good-looking people I have ever met, with his sandy hair and hazel eyes. The scar only makes him more interesting to look at, but I will always know he got it because of me and the danger I put him in.

“You look like a girl,” he blurts.

“Thanks, asshole.” I laugh as I swat his arm. “I am a girl.”

“But now you look like it,” he says, making me laugh even harder. I love that the guys treat me like one of them. I never wanted to be treated like a girl, like I was made of glass. I’m a tough bitch and I’ll stay that way.

Somewhere along the way, our friendship has blossomed into a big sister, little brother one. We poke fun and laugh. There is absolutely nothing sexual or romantic about it, and although they don’t speak of it, I know both Manny and Eli are painfully aware of where my heart lies. Manny is hopeful, excited even, but when I look at Eli, I see in his eyes the same heartache I catch in my own when I look in the mirror. He’s painfully aware that sometimes you love and lose.

“Thanks, I think.” I smile at him, so he knows there are no hard feelings.

“Shall we?” he asks, holding out his arm for me, and I take it.

“Yes. I can’t wait to meet Marisol,” I admit. “There’s too much testosterone around here. I need another girl in the ranks.”

“She’s a gem,” he says. “You’re going to love her.”

My luck—shitty as always—holds out and the door next to mine opens as Gabe steps out in jeans and a collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, exposing the taut lines of his forearms. I try not to drool over the veins that pop and slither over the muscles there. He’s wearing cowboy boots that have seen their fair share of wear, and a matching leather belt around his waist, but it’s the white Stetson on his head that takes my breath away.

Damn, cowboy Gabe is more than I can withstand…

There’s always been a hint of Texas twang in his voice. There was no doubt that he and Manny are from the Lone Star State but seeing him dressed like this and not the way he normally does when he’s protecting me… it reminds me there is a lot about this man I don’t know. Likely, I won’t ever get the chance to know it. Every reminder that this man is just outside of my reach and he fully intends to keep himself removed from me, burrows under my skin a little deeper than the last.

He takes one look at my arm looped through Eli’s, and his eyes narrow on us. I feel the smile slide right off my face and apprehension coat my skin.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, and his voice vibrates with quiet menace.

“No,” I blurt out.

“Then you mind stepping away from my boy?” he warns and I roll my eyes and let go of Eli. I hate that Manny was right, I am Yoko.

“We were just going to head to the tavern for the night.”

“I see that,” Gabe says, and Eli remains watchful and silent.