The Champion (Racing on the Edge) (17 page)

Slumping back against his chest, I felt the vibrations of
his voice as he continued speaking. “You know
...
Andrea
and Mallory asked if we wanted to put a memorial race on the schedule for the
weekend of Charlie’s birthday.”

Choking back tears, it took me a moment to actually
speak. “I think that’s a good idea.”

I found that even if you move on to acceptance, it’s hard
to let go entirely.

To me, that’s the hardest part is letting go I think, but
it’s a necessity. Healing and acceptance can’t begin until then.

You remember though, and that’s what you should do.
That’s the healthy thing to do. Hold on tight to those memories, they’re all
you have left.

They were all
we
had left.

The rest of our days on the island were usually spent
indoors and in bed with each other.

We made it to other parts of the house but spent most of
our time enjoying each other. This year was going to be crazy and I knew that.
I intended on taking advantage of the alone time and he seemed to be on the
exact same page.

The disaster of getting here didn’t end once we were
arrived. It seemed anytime we ventured outside something bad happened.

The one time we took a swim in the ocean I was stung by a
fucking jellyfish.

This wouldn’t have been so horrible, but it stung like a
motherfucker and Jameson spent more time trying to convince me he should piss
on my leg than helping with the burning.

Again, I wasn’t impressed with his lack of concern for my
burn. He seemed more concerned with the fact that he needed to pee on me.

My response, “Listen asshole! This is not the time to be
marking your woman. I need serious help!”

He threw his head back in a fit of laughter and then
stopped suddenly, glaring. “It’s just a scratch.”

He was mocking me and I was not having it.

“That’s a scratch.” I pointed at his shark scratch.
“This,” I gestured toward my very red welted calf and quite possibly the worst
jelly fish burn ever handed out. “Is a sting
...
and
it
BURNS
!”

“I refuse to have this argument with you again.” His
fiery stare shut me up, for a moment.

I sat there in the hot white sand, blowing on my jelly
burn when he chuckled. “It’d be a lot simpler if you’d just admit for one, it’s
more than a scratch and two, let me
relieve
the pain.” He then followed
this shit head of a statement with a wink.

Resorting back to childlike tendencies when angry, I
threw sand in his face. “Jerk,”

Our entire trip was like that.

When out-and-about, it was horrible. When alone together
in the confines of the house, nothing else matter but us.

All of this just led to one thing, we said fuck it on the
exploring and just had sex.

A part of me wondered if this would be our marriage. If
so, we’d spend a large amount of time inside.

When it was time to leave I think we were both ready to
see Axel.

This was the longest we’d been away from him and I
couldn’t wait to see his smiling face. For only being two months old he smiled
more than any baby I’d ever seen.

Why wouldn’t he smile?

His parents were awesome. Sure, we were inept as hell but
still
...
awesome.

I knew the trip home would be just as much of a
catastrophe as the trip here but I was surprised to see that it was actually
worse.

It started with the boat ride back to Rio De Janeiro,
where Jameson vomited twice over the side of the boat but refused to admit that
he was seasick.

Instead he blamed it on the amount of water he’d
swallowed in the waterfall we found on the island.

Yes, he did swallow an abundance of water but it was
hardly my fault. He was the one that who thought it would be cool to fuck up
against the rocks beneath the steady stream of water. We had to stop after a
few minutes because for one, we did ingest a great deal of water, and two,
something slimy was near us and I really didn’t want to hear about another
scratch from Jameson.

Originally, I was envisioning it to be comparable to
something out of the
Cocktail
movie with Tom Cruise but it was nothing
like that at all.

Have you ever tried it? Water splashes you in the face,
it’s hard to steady your feet, and did I mention that there was something slimy
in there with us?

The hilarious part about the entire escapade was me
asking Jameson his thoughts on the penis fish. I’d never seen him run so fast.

The airplane ride was similar to the flight there but
what sealed the deal and made this quite possibly the worst trip ever was when
the guy sitting behind Jameson’s seat, kept kicking him.

Utterly annoyed, he rolled his head over to one side,
side-eying me. “I’m gonna fucking kill him if he kicks my seat one more time.”

“Just relax,” I urged in a calm voice I’d perfected since
marrying him and becoming a parent. “I’d like to go home, not jail.”

Just as I expected, the asshole kicked Jameson’s seat
again. What happened next was another experience in my life that was difficult
to describe. Jameson and the asshole behind us got in a fight, an actual
fistfight brawl over kicking chairs.

My response as we were being escorted to security once we
landed in Dallas. “Nice job asshole. Real fucking mature.”

Nursing a bloody lip he said, “He had it coming.”

Jameson was placed on a “No Fly” list for threatening a
flight attendant and punching a security guard
...
security
guard being the guy that was kicking his chair. Who knew.

Needless to say, to actually get home, Wes had to come
get us because Jameson was not allowed to fly with normal people any longer.

When he returned from security I asked, “How’d that work
out for you? Feel good about yourself?”

He had no answer for me. No answer I was amused with at
least.

When we finally made it home to Elma, it was both a
relief and yet another clusterfuck.

We had picked up Axel from Alley and Spencer’s apartment
on Tuesday night. Jameson had to fly out Wednesday morning for Vegas so I had
to hurry and pack everything Axel and I would need for the next week so we
could go with him.

It was a great plan but as I was standing in the garage
getting ready to open the door to go into the kitchen I heard noises and a
voice coming from inside the house.

Retrieving our bags from the back of the Expedition,
Jameson walked up to me holding the bags and smiled down at Axel. “Open the
door, honey.”

“There’s someone in there.” I whispered, watchful.

“What?” he asked, his brow furrowing in uncertainty.

We’d been through so much on our honeymoon it was hard to
believe anything else could possibly go wrong.

“I hear voices in there.” I told him removing Axel from
his car seat. “What should we do?”

“Uh
...
grab the
tire iron out of the Expedition.” he put on his manly protective face. “I’ll
call Van.”

“Where is he?”

“He’s in his apartment, I think.”

I then went into protective Mama Wizard mode and hunched
over Axel.

Jameson slowly moved inside the house, with the tire iron
in hand.

Van was there in seconds, holding a gun.

“Where’d that come from?” I asked eyeing the black
handgun.

“I always carry a gun Ms. Sway.” Van offered nervous
smile.

“What if
they
have a gun?”

“Run,” Jameson said over his shoulder as if I was stupid
for even asking this.

The thought that someone might possibly be inside my home
with a gun made my blood run cold. I would kill anyone that would harm my
little flailing spaz.

When we made our way inside the laundry room we could
hear the voices coming from what appeared to be the family room. Van motioned
for Jameson to stay with us as he made his way through the kitchen.

We didn’t stay—we followed closely behind our badass Navy
Seal.

“What are you two
...
never
mind
...
just stay behind me.”

All four of us slowly shuffled throughout our gigantic
house, room by room, as we carried the flailing spaz with us.

Axel, who usually remained fairly quiet, chose that exact
moment to start cooing at his daddy.

We heard glass breaking and then a women’s voice said,
“Oh shit
...
pick that up.”

I knew right then who that was.

Jameson looked over his shoulder at me, glaring. “I’ll
fucking kill her if she has my underwear!”

Van spun around to face us his brown eyes dark and
contemplating. “Do you know who it is?”

“Dana
...
that’s
Dana’s voice,”

“You mean
Dana
, the
crazy-stalker-next-door-neighbor
Dana
?”

“Yes,” we both said together as Jameson took Axel from
me.

“I’d better hold him. If I don’t, I may possibly kill
her.”

“What should we do?” I asked looking between Jameson and
Van.

“We need to defend our domain.” Jameson proclaimed
handing Axel back to me.

I giggled at his fierce expression.

Van nodded. “Damn straight.”

They made their way into the office to look over the security
cameras to find out what room she was in.

Sure enough, she was in our bedroom.

After everything that had been happening to us lately, I
had a feeling we’d be in wheel chairs and this shit would still be occurring.
Never a dull moment, that’s for sure.

We stepped inside our master bedroom, Van with a gun,
Jameson with a tire iron and me standing behind him with our flailing cooing
spaz, who just sneezed.

“Bless you.” I whispered, kissing the top of his rusty
curls.

Dana froze, standing in front of our dresser with an
armful of Jameson’s underwear while Cooper, stood there staring at my underwear
drawer.

What a bunch of fucking sicko’s.

I had this fear that they would start asking us to put
lotion on our skin and then take that too.

“What the fuck? Put those back!” Jameson ordered.

“I
...
um
...
I
...
shit
...
” Dana squeaked out dropping the underwear,
her frantic eyes looked toward our Navy Seal.

“You have five seconds to get out or I will shoot you.” Van
warned in a stern voice he used when in his protector mode. It sounded like
Christian Bale in the
Batman
movies.

Suddenly, Cooper and Dana made a run for it and were out
the door, without our underwear.

“Does this kind of thing happen a lot?” Van asked putting
his gun inside the front of his pants.

“Yes.” We both mumbled, spent from everything that had
happened in the last few weeks.

An hour later, Van went back to his apartment over the
garage and Jameson and I packed for the Vegas race.

Axel played in his bouncy chair beside us cooing away. He
loved that thing.

When we finally had the last of everything packed, the
doorbell rang.

“If that’s Dana
...
we’re
moving.” Jameson told me and picked up the tire iron beside his feet.

Blend Line – Jameson

I really was expecting it to be Dana when I answered the
door but no, it was Spencer.

“I was thinking you could help me with something.” He
greeted me. “You’re—”

“No, I’m not helping.” I cut him off walking into the
kitchen to find a much needed drink.

He kept throwing ideas out for ways I could help him get
back on Alley’s good graces—he’d apparently pissed her off somehow. All of them
I quickly dismissed as trite and lackluster. I refused to help anymore. I’ve
done my good deeds.

“Oh yeah
...
how’d it
work out with Dana in your house?” he asked leaning against the counter.

“What?” I slowly turned my head toward him.

“I forgot to tell you
...
”
he burst out laughing. “I let her in.”

“Get the fuck out!” I yelled pointing at the door. “Get
the fuck out right now!”

“No,” He argued.

“Fine
...
” I
chugged the beer in my hand before slamming it down on the counter. “Paybacks
are a motherfucker, Spencer!”

He threw his head back and laughed one loud bellowing
laugh.

This was war.

The next morning, I put my plan into action

“Wow, no bullshit—do you think it will work?” I asked Van
as he explained how this particular taser would work.

Spencer had fucked with the wrong man.

“Yep, it’s flawless.”

“Really?”

“Yep,”

“Is this thing legal?” I held up the taser.

Van adjusted my hand away from the trigger and away from
his body with a laugh.

“Well no
...
it’s
not legal, but it’s either that or you could hit him over the head with a
hammer.”

“I wanna hurt him, not kill him.” I took a step toward
the door. “C’mon let’s get outta here before the Sheriff comes back.”

Van and I had snuck into the Sheriff’s office this
morning to snatch a taser. I really thought a taser would come in handy with
Dana stalking me and my shitfuck of a brother assisting her.

“Good idea, you’re already on a
No Fly
list.”

“Hardly my fault,” I mumbled walking to my car.

It was around six in the morning and we were all set to
fly to Vegas this afternoon when Van turned to me. “Hey, so, Logan and Lucas
were asking if they could come with us to Vegas.”

“Fuck,” I sighed.

I hated to say no after everything they’d been through
but I also did not want any drama in Vegas. I needed to concentrate on racing
and not babysitting the Lucifer twins.