Page 61 of Endurance

“Yeah, well—she’s got some fucking nerve. Rylee knows what it feels like to be plagued by memories of a car accident. She’s been through it. She had no business telling you anything about what happened.”

“Sloan, please. Don’t be mad at her. She was only trying to help.”

I wanted to be angry, but I couldn’t be. Kallie was right. Rylee didn’t do anything wrong. I was glad Kallie had heard it first from someone I trusted, rather than reading tabloid articles full of half-truths. I was just upset because I didn’t want to be talking about this. It made me feel unsettled and vulnerable, knowing that every protective barrier I’d built to protect myself was violently crashing down with every word I spoke.

I turned my back to her and looked out across the yard. The sky was now dark and bleak, the only light coming from the moonbeams peeking out occasionally from a passing cloud. It matched my current state of mind—as if Kallie was the only ray of light cutting through my darkness.

“My mother killed herself three days after the accident. She slit her wrists in the bathtub,” I said quietly, not entirely sure if I was talking to Kallie or myself. “I’d been put in a medically-induced coma and didn’t find out about what she did until a month later. When the doctors said they didn’t think I would survive my injuries, it was assumed that she couldn’t handle losing me on top of losing my dad. I don’t know that for sure, though—as I said, it’s just an assumption. She didn’t leave a note or any other form of explanation. Some claim that people take their own lives due to mental illness, but all I can see is her selfishness. There’s no excuse for what she did. What kind of mother abandons her son when he’s fighting for his life?”

I felt a hand press softly on my arm and glanced over to see Kallie looking at me with sad eyes.

“I’m sorry, Sloan. She should have been there for you.”

“You’re damn right she should’ve been! I was alone, stuck in a hospital bed, with the left side of my body completely immobile. I had a concussion, several broken ribs, and needed a ventilator just to fucking breathe. When the doctors woke me from the coma and removed the vent, I was scared out of my mind. I was terrified I’d never walk again. I couldn’t even hold a goddamned spoon with my left hand. It took eight months of rehab, five days a week, to get me back to almost normal—almost being the keyword,” I added bitterly.

“Tell me what ‘almost’ means. Why did the doctor say you can’t race anymore?” she asked tentatively, almost as if she were afraid to voice the question. I understood her hesitancy—I felt it too. I was scared to say the prognosis out loud for fear it would somehow make it truer than it already was.

I turned to face her and found nothing but patience in her wide emerald eyes as she waited for me to continue.

“About a month before you showed up, the rehab facility arranged for me to go into a car simulator. I was pushing the docs hard to clear me for racing. Dr. Haskell, my surgeon, conferred with the physical therapists, and they decided to test my reflexes to see how I’d fare before giving me clearance. I didn’t pass their test.”

“Why not?”

“I suffered too much loss of stamina. I couldn’t press the gas or brake pedals for long periods without experiencing extreme pain in my left hip. Even now, I have to be careful with the way I stand. Mornings are the worst, though, because that’s when the joint is the stiffest.”

“How do you manage to drive a regular car?”

“Custom paddles on the steering wheel. I only switch over to them when my hip is acting up. The technology is great and has helped me a lot, but it isn’t up to snuff for race cars.”

“I never would have known. You’ve never given any inclination that your hip bothered you.”

“Most days, it’s fine. I was relentless with my PT to make sure of it.”

“It had to be a tough road, and going through all of that without family…” She trailed off, looking thoughtful. “My mother has always been so supportive of me—and my father too, even though I didn’t meet him until I was seventeen.”

I cocked a curious brow at her.

“Seventeen?”

“Yeah. My parents are kind of a not-so-perfect second-chance romance. If you ever meet my father, I’m sure he’ll tell you. He loves to tell everyone about the summer he met my mother by the lake at Camp Riley. They fell in love under the stars but were tragically separated until he became her Colonel Brandon seventeen years later. He gets all sentimental about it, but that’s a fairytale for a different day. My point is, I’ve always had parental support. I can’t imagine having to go through what you did all by myself.”

“It wasn’t easy. Before my mother killed herself, she had always supported me. She never missed a single race. I may have been mad at her for not telling me the truth about my dad, but I would have gotten over it with time. However, I don’t think I can ever forgive her for leaving me alone when I needed her the most. I’d always been independent, even as a kid. But this time, I couldn’t do it by myself. There were moments of both debilitation and exhilaration as I fought to take a step or hold a utensil just to feed myself. It was humbling in ways I can’t explain. I’m just grateful I had good friends to help me through the worst of it. Colton was there a lot when the rehab got really tough. He understood racing was all I had left and knew why my recovery was so important. I fought so damn hard and did everything I was told to do in order to get behind the wheel again, but now…”

I let the sentence go unfinished, unable to articulate what ‘now’ meant for me anymore.

“I get it, Sloan. Really, I do.”

I shook my head, needing her to understand how I’d gotten to this point.

“Before my accident, I rarely drank because I thought it clouded the mind. I hated not feeling in control. It seemed like drinking was the only thing Icouldcontrol after my accident, and it gave me an escape. When I saw Tyler crash, everything just came flooding back. All I could think of was making those memories go away. I didn’t want to feel anything, so I came home, grabbed a bottle, and—”

“You don’t have to explain anymore,” she interrupted and wrapped her arms around my waist.

Grateful she was giving me a reprieve, I pulled her tight to my chest and buried my face in her hair. I was emotionally spent, yet I also felt like I could finally breathe. Perhaps she was right—after holding it all in for so long, maybe I did need to get this off my chest. I suddenly realized how much of a struggle things had been and how exhausting it was to go through the motions day in and day out, knowing racing was forever out of my reach. Since meeting Kallie, those endless moments felt easier to endure, as if she alone had the power to keep me grounded.

She pulled back to look at me and afforded me a small smile. At that moment, I was completely lost in her. I returned her smile and silently wondered what it was I did to deserve this eccentric rainbow goddess. Reaching up, I touched a blue lock that was intertwined with her natural blonde, recalling what she’d said about the blue.

“I hate knowing that I made you sad. I don’t want to see you wearing blue ever again, Rainbow Brite. If it means I can never have another drink again, so be it—no more drinking, no more worry about pills. You deserve better.”

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