Page 31 of Octane

They both get in, and I watch as Sawyer peels out of the parking lot and disappears from view.

CHAPTER TWELVE

SAWYER

“What lies have you been feeding him?” Daniel begins his interrogation as soon as I speed away from Jackson and my teammates.

I can tell he’s staring at me from the passenger seat without having to look at him, his heated gaze practically burning my skin.

“I haven’t said anything to him. I haven’t seen or spoken to him since he came to the office the other day.”

Daniel doesn’t say anything further, which surprises me, but I make sure not to show him my shock. Finding his Bentley in the main parking lot outside of the arena, I drive us to it and park my car in the adjacent spot.

“I’ll see you at home?” I ask him, but Daniel doesn’t get out.

Instead, he reaches into the backseat of my car and grabs my purse. His sudden movement causes me to jump. Placing it on his lap, he rifles through it until he finds what he’s looking for. Tapping on my phone’s screen, it illuminates and asks him for the password. He doesn’t need to ask me what it is, because he already knows. 1123, my late mother’s birthday.

He isn’t going to find anything incriminating in there, though. Maintaining an even breathing pattern, I watch as Daniel invades my privacy, like he’s done countless times before. I nearly laugh at the word as it floats around in my head.

Privacy.

I haven’t had privacy since the day we moved in together, ten years ago. We sit there for twenty minutes as Daniel completes a thorough search of my phone’s apps and folders, including the one for recently deleted items.

Only when he’s satisfied that I haven’t been talking to anyone he deems unacceptable, does he throw my phone back into my purse and exit my car.

“Go straight home,” he instructs me just before slamming my door shut.

Once he’s out of the car, it’s like a rush of exhaustion runs through me. My mind races as I drive out of the parking lot, wondering why Daniel didn’t blow up at me again. Maybe he’s saving it for when we get home?

My stomach churns with anxiety as I leave the parking lot, speeding down the road leading to the San Bernardino Freeway. It feels like I’m pushing my BMW harder than I did my race car during practice. I loathe the thought of going home, but that doesn’t stop me from barreling down Route 10 like I’m back on the track. Before I know it, I’m approaching the exit for Highland Avenue, not remembering how I got here. I look in my rearview mirror to make sure there aren’t a swarm of cops chasing me, thankful when I don’t find any.

Taking a couple of deep breaths as I drive at a more acceptable pace through my city, I tell myself that everything is going to be fine. Daniel didn’t tell me to quit, he simply stated that Ishouldquit. Therefore, I didn’t defy him. I convince myself that everything will be fine when he gets home, knowing that he’s an unstable person, at best, when no one else is around.

* * *

I’m notsure what Daniel did between leaving the track and coming home, but it’s been two hours since I arrived, and he’s just now walking through the door. I look up at him from the sofa, where I’ve been curled up reading to help pass the time.

“Hey,” I say.

Daniel looks at me but doesn’t say anything. I study his face, wondering what he’s thinking, searching for the boy that I fell in love with so many years ago. The one he rarely lets out anymore. The boy who kissed me gently outside of our pool house after overhearing me tell my friend I was nervous for my first kiss. The one who held me tight against him after we made love for the first time when I was sixteen. As the years went on, our relationship changed from give and take to Daniel taking nearly everything from me.

I don’t have any friends. I barely see my family, and I never get to visit them by myself. The last few times I saw them was at a family dinner with the Kramers. I feel as though he’s set me up to fail at work. Like he’s trying to prove that I can’t make it so I’ll quit and stay home, just like he has always wanted. It’s the same thing he’s doing with racing now. But no matter what, that’s one thing I refuse to let him have.

“I was just thinking about dinner. Are you in the mood for anything in particular? I can get it started.” I ask, treading lightly while still feeling him out.

He’s just standing there, staring into the living room.

“Let’s go out for dinner tonight,” he answers, finally looking at me. “Once your season begins, we won’t have many Sundays together. Why don’t you put on a dress? You always look so lovely in them.”

Keeping the shock from my face is near impossible, but I do it. The boy from my past is coming through slightly, but I won’t buy into it easily this time. I refuse to get my hopes up. I would give anything to know what he’s been up to since I dropped him off at his car out in Fontana.

“Okay,” I agree. “I'll freshen up.”

Standing from the sofa, I fold the throw that was covering me and place it under the end table. I don’t look at him as I walk by, but when I get to the doorway that leads into our room, he calls my name.

“Sawyer?”

Turning to look at him, I don’t respond.

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