One For The Road - Chapter 51: Chapter 51

"I'm serious, Griffin. We really need to find the key to my place. I have clothes and shit there that I'd like to see again," I said.
As fun as new beginnings were, I had gotten used to ignoring a lot of my favorite outfits back home. I lived without them in Canada, but when they were just down the street, it was a little more difficult to justify not having them.
But with the way that his arm held me close to his warm body all throughout the night, my heart tried to trick me into thinking I didn't need any of it anymore. Why the hell did I need any clothes at all?
"It's early. Just go back to sleep," he mumbled in my ear.
Very convincing argument.
I shut my eyes again. "As soon as it's less early, we're gonna find it. And I'm so fucking serious."
"I'm sure, Kate."
I bit my lip. What the hell was that supposed to mean? "You know what? We should look right now. I want to go home today and hang out with my trophies. There are a few that really need to be dusted."
"Really?"
"Yes. Get up. I want to see my trophies," I said.
It had been a while—at least six months—since I held each one and let it take me back to when I owned every track I raced whether I won or lost. If I could make it through the time when my crew chief was my only guidance through a lengthy recovery, I could make it until I climbed into a Cup car once again.
He rolled over without getting up. "Do you want something to eat first? This could take a while."
I shook my head and threw on a shirt. "Nope."
"Well, good luck, because I searched for an hour and couldn't find it."
"I'll do my best."
There were several places he kept his random shit in the house, and the first was the drawer next to the silverware in the kitchen. I headed downstairs to check it out as Griffin struggled to put on some pants while he followed me.
And in that junk drawer was the key I gave him when I joined him in Baton Rouge with RTR. The little heart painted in red still hadn't chipped or faded away from that day.
"What the fuck do you mean you couldn't find it? Are all men really this goddamn pitiful?" I asked and held it up to him.
"It wasn't there when I checked," he said, and all I could do is just look at him.
Why the hell weren't more women attracted to me? It would save me from so much of this bullshit.
At least I liked looking at him.
"You care if Penny comes with us? She needs a walk, and I don't want to leave her alone. She gets into shit even though she knows she's not supposed to," Griffin said and emphasized the last part so the dog could hear wherever the hell she was.
And after getting dressed for the real day with the key and leash in hand, the three of us walked over to my old place and opened it back up.
It was my house, but it definitely wasn't a home. I spent too much time on the road for something like that.
"It smells weird in here," Griffin said. "How long has it been empty? Six months?"
I nodded. "It almost feels like it's been longer, though."
Although the landscaping in the front of the house looked overgrown and rough, the inside hadn't changed at all from the way I left it (besides dust and a few cobwebs). I'd clean it all out a different day.
The design of both of our houses was pretty similar, but he put much more work into making it a homey place to live. For me, the kitchen was a fancy word for the place to store ice cream and beer.
Griffin let Penny off of her leash, and she darted up the stairs like it was her own house. She was in for a surprise when her special queen-sized bed wasn't up there, and instead, there were a few shelves with trophies from wins throughout my racing past.
But that puppy never knew that side of me. No, I was just the bitch sleeping with her best friend.
"So those trophies," Griffin said. "Still upstairs?"
I nodded.
When it came to numbers, Griffin had more of them than I did, but for meaning, every single one I had was a piece of history in the making. Women could be found all over NASCAR if someone knew where to search, but most people just looked in the car, and that was where they found me. Every trophy was pressure with a golden shine.
And what the hell would they all mean if Elizabeth somehow stole an upset win before I could earn one in the Cup Series? How the fuck would that be fair?
I wiped off the dust of the one I kept on the lowest shelf. It was some important victory from when I was a young girl, but the location and age faded with time. The energy didn't.
There also were a few of them that I appreciated more than the rest. Obviously the most valuable was the championship trophy the season before I moved up to RTR and the biggest stage in NASCAR. And the second was from a win at Mid-Ohio. The big names in the Cup Series didn't race there, but it was my home track and one of my best wins en route to that championship.
Watkins Glen, Charlotte, and Miami, they were also important pieces to a historic run that shut a lot of people up about me and what I could do. Although I shut a lot of the criticism out by not giving it an ounce of my attention, I wasn't dumb enough to think that it wasn't there anymore. And it was definitely crazy of me, but I wanted one more shot at it all to do it again. And no matter what I had to do, who I had to schmooze, it was gonna happen.
The only one that wasn't incredibly dusty was the All-Star trophy, and hopefully, that would be good enough to push Moretti over the edge to sign me.
"I almost forgot you won so many after your wreck at Talladega. That championship run was fucking crazy," Griffin said.
I smiled. "It just makes me want to do it all again. I loved every goddamn second of that revenge tour."
"I mean, if he's not gonna take a driver from another team, who else is there for Moretti to sign but you?"
"I didn't think Elizabeth would come out of nowhere, but that happened," I said. "And there's always young talent brewing just below our noses. Hell, that used to be both of us."
"Yeah." He paused. "Things here change fast."
That was part of what I loved about racing, that I never felt trapped in a moment up until the end of my time with RTR. And I wanted—no, needed—to get back to it before I got stuck in the past, and not the one I remembered fondly.
The lull in conversation was filled with knocking from downstairs, and I wiped the dust from my fingers on my jeans.
"It's probably Betty and her husband making sure we're not breaking in," Griffin said.
I rose an eyebrow. "Betty?"
"Yeah, she lives a couple of houses down. She watches Penny for me on the weekends."
Just more proof that this sure as hell wasn't the place to call home.
"Well, I'll go tell her to get the fuck off my property. I'm kind of busy right now," I said and headed to answer it.
"You better not. She's a nice lady," Griffin said.
But when I opened up the door with Griffin by my side, Betty wasn't there. Instead, it was someone who sure as hell belonged in the neighborhood way less than I did.
"Hey Katie," Drake said and looked over to Griffin. "Hi."
Wasn't he supposed to be in New York with Annie? Or maybe Ontario with Josiah? "Drake? How the hell did you find out where I live?"
"I got the address from Annie. I just wanted to see you and talk, but if you don't want me here, I understand," he said.
"I mean—" I hesitated. Did I have anything to say to him really? I wanted to tell him that I was willing to drive Sacrilege one last tournament, but he probably didn't care. "Are you hungry?"
"I'm okay. I just—" He paused. "I didn't like the way we left off."
I nodded. "I didn't like it either. I think we both deserve more than that."
I took a glance over at Griffin. He shifted his weight onto his heels.
There sure as hell wasn't going to be some teary apology that ended with a kiss between me and Drake, so Griffin didn't have a thing to worry about.
But he knew that, probably, so I cleared my throat. "So what did you want to talk about?"
"I don't really know honestly. There was a lot of shit neither one of us should have said that day, and it's bothering me a lot," Drake said.
"Well, I'm sorry. Is that what you want? There's an apology."
Drake sighed. "Would you just listen for a second?"
"Then say something. Say whatever the hell you're thinking. It's not gonna hurt me."
He already hurt me once by treating me like a bomb ready to explode and maybe a second time by going after Annie so fast. Whatever he was thinking this time couldn't be any worse.
"I'm sorry too. I was—"
Too slow. "I really wanted to give that tournament a shot, Drake. For Annie, for you, for myself, too. And I can't fucking believe you think Josiah's more important to the team, and that you never liked me all that much because Annie's just better. I can't blame you for that, though. I like her a hell of a lot more I've ever liked me."
"Katie, don't say that. There's a lot to love about you," he said.
"Then why the fuck would you throw every goddamn thing I did for the team away like that? You needed money, I won it for you. You needed someone who could drive a robot, I did my best to figure that shit out." A lump rose in my throat. Oh fuck. "What more did you want from me?"
Although my voice cracked a little, I held it together pretty well. Griffin surely had seen enough of my stupid ass crying lately.
"What I need you to understand is that it's not personal. There are times you have to do what you have to do to keep a team together, and that was one of those times. You know I liked having you around," Drake said.
I let out an annoyed laugh. "Bullshit. The team isn't together. Annie's in New York, I'm here, and Josiah should be seeking a goddamn therapist. How is that together?"
"Would you like to drive Sacrilege one more time?"
I hesitated. "You're not serious, are you?"
"Of course, I'm serious. The camera will like you a hell of a lot more than Josiah or me."
Camera?
"You still have the chance to enter? I thought that relied on me," I said.
Drake nodded. "It does, but I didn't want to give up on that just yet. If you're interested, we'll be in LA next weekend."
"And what if I'm not?"
"Then nothing changes, and you'll still be here, and Annie will still be in Saratoga, and Josiah and I will still be in London."
He really thought everything would be fine after he kind of kicked me out?
"Give me a couple days. We'll see how I feel then," I said.
"That's all I wanted to hear." And with that, Drake left us at the front door.
"He's just trying to use you. I mean, what kind of fucking idiot does he think you are? He assumed that it'd be okay to screw you over and beg for your forgiveness later," Griffin said.
There was a small part of me that was surprised Griffin kept his mouth shut as long as he did, but he didn't know Drake. He didn't know that team like I did.
"The problem is that he might have been right," I said. Drake knew damn well I was addicted to bullshit and chaos.
But what else did I have to do besides wait for a contract?