Page 107 of Down Shift (Driven 8)
Now, those words get my attention. My mind startles awake and I shove up to a seated position.
“No. Don’t get up. Go back to sleep.”
“No. I’ll get up.”
“Please, go back to bed. I just wanted to say good-bye before I left.” He leans forward and presses a kiss on the top of my head, his lips lingering there long enough that I wrap my arms around his hips and just hold tight.
“I programmed Rylee’s phone number in your phone. Just in case you can’t get ahold of me and need me. You can call her. She’ll know how to find me.”
“’Kay. Thank you.” My face presses harder against him and I draw in his scent. The leather of his belt feels cool on my cheek.
Another kiss on my head. “See you in a few days.”
He steps back. Our fingers link out of habit. As always, the need to connect seems instinctive on both our parts.
“Fly safe. Have fun. Good luck.”
“I’m gonna need it.” I appreciate his chuckle and return it with a smile he can’t see in the dark. Then sleep calls me back as my eyelids start feeling heavy.
“Bye, Socks.”
Our hands release.
“Bye,” I murmur.
His footsteps down the hall.
The sound of the front door.
The click of the dead bolt.
“I love you, Zander.”
I fall back on the pillow. Close my eyes. And don’t even bother to wipe the lone tear that escapes and slides down my cheek.
Friends with benefits don’t kiss you on the head good-bye in the dark of the morning.
They leave a note on the counter.
They text from the airport.
They don’t kiss you good-bye.
Chapter 33
ZANDER
The infield is abuzz. The vibration of a car testing on the track rumbles in my chest. The rev of a motor elsewhere adds to the sound. The sensations are like a second skin.
I feel at home. And strangely I feel out of place.
My hat lies low over my eyes, my bag slung on my shoulder, as I search for the coach and hope that the man I flashed my credentials to minutes ago doesn’t put two and two together. It didn’t seem like he knew who I was, so hopefully my appearance will stay under the radar—this is something I need to do on my own time frame.
Because fuck if I’m not going to need time and courage to go with it when I face Colton.
I hit the row where all of the racers’ coaches sit, massive motor homes that serve as a refuge for the racers while we’re at the track, and instantly spot the one I’ve sat in for countless hours over the years. The trepidation I’d felt increasing with each footstep into the raceway dissipates instantly at the knowledge Rylee’s in there.
Crossing the distance, I climb up the steps, peek my head inside the unlocked door, and knock, calling out her name. “Ry?”
