Page 19 of Fueled Fury

Lainey

Before opening my eyes, I already know the bright sunlight has overtaken the dark serenity of night, and I impatiently long for night again.

Slowly peering around, I confirm what I thought: he’s gone. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it had all been a dream. But I know he was here. I remember every moment of falling asleep with him, and sadly, I hate to admit to myself that is what I miss the most too—not falling asleep alone.

Tossing the comforter aside, I head to the bathroom and pack up my things as quickly as possible. My mom is sure to be here with precious Matt in tow for his apology, one that he won’t get until hell freezes over.

Looking for my phone, I find it on my nightstand. Under it, I spot a worn paperback, already knowing that Austin left it.

Frankenstein.Picking up the crinkled book, my fingers trail over the creases along the spine. I’d seen Austin reading it, and usually jotting down notes, so many times around the ranch. Is that why I’d picked it from the list? Had there been something in my subconscious that selected the book I’d noticed him reading more often than any other? Is there any part of me that Austin Hale isn’t interwoven in?

Shoving the book in my bag, I pull the strap over my shoulder and head out. Unfortunately, Mom is already up and blocking my effort to get out of the house unseen.

“Matt will be joining us momentarily.” Mom gestures to the seat across from her at the oversized dining table.

Not happening. “I already promised Dad I’d have breakfast with him.” She uses him against me, it’s about time I return the favor. I’d debated just driving back to Sunland, but after last night, a day with my dad is a safer bet than being in the house with Austin nearby.

“Thomas can wait a few moments while we sort out our family business.”

“Let her leave, Jean,” David says as he enters the kitchen. “Matt probably started it anyway.”

Point for my stepdad. He knows his twins are dreadful pests and has always seen my side of things, unlike my mom. She gives her husband an earful about why I should stay and why my father doesn’t merit my time.

“Lainey decides where she spends her time,” David says to my mom before looking to me. “You’re welcome to join us for breakfast, or head over to your dad’s if you’d like. Choice is yours.”

God, I appreciate that man. I’d imagine I should’ve wanted to grow up here because of my mom, but David is what made living here bearable. “I’m gonna go to my dad’s.”

David gives me a warm smile as he waves. “Don’t be a stranger, sweetie. I miss my favorite fishing buddy.”

“Going to, Lainey.” My mom turns her nose up at David as she tells him, “Fishing on that dreadful lake is no place for her to be.”

“It’s the best place to be.” David winks at me as my mom rolls her eyes.

Smiling, I tell him goodbye and give my mom a generic farewell.

Getting in my car, I drive to my dad’s. Even though it’s just across the cove, it’s a ten-minute drive to make it around to his side of the shoreline. There’re a few times where I figured swimming across would be the shorter option, and more often than not, I’d considered jumping into the lake just to get away from my mother.

Pulling into the driveway, I spot a familiar car parked in front of the house. I’m thankful that Dad’s agent and longtime friend is here to fill our awkward silences.

Knocking on the front door, I wait until Dad pulls it open.

“Lainey,” he says as disappointment crosses his face. “You don’t have to knock. It’s your house.”

Yeah. But something always makes me feel like I still need to knock before entering. “Where’s Randolph?” I ask just as the jolly man rounds the corner and wraps me in a bear hug.

“Hey, Fast Lane. It’s ’bout time you showed your pretty face ’round here. I’m sure tired of looking at that ugly mug.” He motions over to my dad who ignores the playful jab that is commonplace between the two.

“Do you want some pancakes, Lainey? There’s plenty,” Dad says as we follow him back to the kitchen.

“Sure.” I grab a plate, stack two up, then pour a heaping amount of syrup on top. I could just hear my mom now. That’s way too much sugar, Lainey Jean. You should have something nutritious instead. Meanwhile, my dad slides a plate of bacon over for me to grab a slice. “Thanks.”

My mouth is full of the warm, gooey goodness as I half listen to them talk about an upcoming charity race.

“How about it, Fast Lane?”

“What?” I ask, looking between him and my dad. Apparently, I wasn’t half listening because I have no clue what he’s asking me about.

“The charity race. Why don’t you join us for the weekend? Hang out with your daddy and me while raising money for a good cause.” Randolph looks across the table at my dad before looking back at me. “It’s over at the track in Houston, so it’s not a bad drive from Sunland. You wouldn’t even have to miss school and could take a few spins on the track while you’re there.”

“She can’t make it.”

Looking to my dad, I try to figure out if his frustration is with Randolph for inviting me to the race or the thought of me being on the track. The latter is more than likely the reason, which infuriates me to no end. “I’m not allowed on the track.”

Randolph shakes his head. “Racing runs through your veins. No use in trying to fight it. It’s a part of your soul.” He eyes my dad, who is steadily shoveling food in his mouth while ignoring his friend. Randolph has broached the topic with my dad at every opportunity after realizing I wanted to race but was not permitted the choice.

Racing isn’t the only thing that comes to mind. Austin does too. “It doesn’t matter what’s a part of me. I’m not allowed to have it.”

“Now that’s just some pure chickenshit.” Randolph huffs then looks at my dad. “Thomas McKay, care to chime in.”

“No,” Dad says before asking questions about the event, none of which involve me being included.

Randolph is visibly frustrated with Dad’s dissent but irons out the event details while I finish my food, then head to the sink, rinse my plate, and place it in the dishwasher.

Grabbing my bag, I head upstairs after telling them I have some schoolwork to do. Walking into my room, I drop my bag on my bed then move to the French doors leading out to a balcony overlooking the water with a view of my mom and David’s house across the cove. Turning away, I move to the bed and grab the worn copy of Frankenstein from my bag. Studying the damaged cover, I decide against reading and I drop it back into my bag.

I head out of my room and straight to the theater room. Grabbing the remote, I click on the oversize TV covering the wall and get comfortable in one of the reclining chairs. Selecting my favorite movie, The Italian Job, I get lost in the same story I’ve watched a million times, but I love it. I know what’s gonna happen, who the monster is, and who to trust. Watching the familiar characters gives me a reassuring feeling in the darkened room as I soak in the consoling cover of darkness.