Dirt Driven (Racing on the Edge Book 11)

for anything. I loved our life. Random Walmart camping only to wake up and ask the cashier what city you’re in. Pilot truck stop coffee at two in the morning to get through that nightmare stretch on I-70 and singing to Garth Brooks with your husband as the sun comes up on the highway. I even loved rationalizing what clothes to wear until we found a laundry mat and the shady truck stops. And I think most race wives would agree with me on this one when I say, I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
With Hudson on my hip, I watched Rager as he walked through the pits, his head down. Smiling at the attention he received from the female fans lingering around the cars, I glanced down at the baby in my arms, a spitting image of his father in every way. Dark hair, impossibly piercing blue eyes and that cute little dimple on his chin when he smiled.
It was hard to believe that five years ago I didn’t have this security. Sure, our life had changed drastically since I had, you know, gotten knocked up by him and was technically married to another. “Technically” is used loosely here. It goes to show you that no matter how planned your life was, it could and might change right before your eyes.
But security of knowing that our lives had a plan? No, I didn’t have that. You couldn’t when your husband raced cars for a living.
“Hey, Arie,” a familiar voice said behind me.
When I turned around, fear jolted through me. Easton stood in front of me, his hands buried in the pockets of his racing suit. My heart jumped into my throat, unprepared to see him here, of all places, and wearing a uniform.
Easton Levi was the hottest driver in NASCAR these days. So people said. Not me. I knew the real Easton. The one who let fame go to his head and destroyed relationships in the process. That wasn’t to say our relationship ended because of him, because it didn’t. I played my part in the end too.
And he was the last person I thought I’d see at a dirt track.
Shifting nervously, I drew in a deep breath. “Hey.” A memory flashed in my head.
Easton’s eyes darted around, confused, irritable, and then settled on the sand because that was so much safer than looking at his wife who he had disappointed time and time again. “This isn’t working, Arie. You and I both know that.”
Did I know that? Yes.
“I know,” I said, not knowing what else to say. My palms felt sweaty, so I rubbed them on my shorts and straightened out my legs in the sand.
I feared divorce, because it felt like I failed. Everyone warned me when Easton and I got married, we should take our time. This day and age, who married that young?
Well, I did. I did because I thought it would work.
As he twisted to face me, his hand touched my leg sincerely. “Just hear me out… okay?”
That wasn’t the way to start a conversation.
“Okay….”
Hear me out? Who says that?
“I know you’re not happy,” he began, staring at his hands as he spoke, “and I don’t want this to be something where we blame each other and shit gets ugly.” With a deep sigh, he looked at me.
I nodded, relief washing over me that he felt it too. It wasn’t me, and it certainly wasn’t him. We had grown apart, a life distanced by the very thing we’d sworn wouldn’t happen a year ago. The distance in our marriage. The need to choose everything else over our relationship. It was me working with JAR Racing and him choosing racing constantly.
This life and everything we didn’t do and say had ruined us.
My attachment to Rager made me wonder if there was someone else Easton was turning to.
Would I have blamed him for turning to someone else at that point?
“Are you seeing someone?”
His stare caught mine, his answer just as quick. “No, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
“Are you wanting someone else?”
I supposed seeing someone, and wanting to, were entirely different.
His stare dropped, his answer a little slower. “No… it’s not that.”
Easton lied. He’d been fucking a model for the last year of our marriage. When I was dealing with the loss of my nephew Jack, and my mom was recovering from breast cancer, that was when he chose to end our marriage. It was a messy, awful divorce, and the day it was final and announced to the world, I was seven months pregnant with twins. That weren’t his. I didn’t cheat on him, but I guess, emotionally, I’d been cheating on him since the day we said I do. My heart never belonged to him, and looking at him now, he knew that.
I should have known he’d show up here, being that NASCAR was here too—at the same complex for the weekend, just a different track. But given the circumstances, why would he? He makes millions a year to race NASCAR, why would he even risk it?
Swallowing thickly, he lifted his sunglasses, his weight shifting from one foot to the other. I looked at his eyes, the creases in the corners. “How are you?”
Better without you. I didn’t say that. No matter how bitter I was that he cheated on me, or whatever the reasons were that we didn’t work, I didn’t want to hurt him. “I’m… good. Uh, what are you doing here?” I motioned to his racing suit. “Appearance?”
His eyes dropped from Hudson, to his racing suit and helmet in this other hand. “Oh, yeah. Well, actually, I’m racing tonight. Thought I’d see if I still had the open wheel side in me.”
Really? Jesus Christ. This is going to be horrible.
I knew exactly how my night was going to go. Easton and Rager were going to get into it, either on or off the track, and I’d have to explain it because