Page 88 of Lemon Crush

“I’ve been thinking about it, how unfair I’ve been to you when you’ve always been there for us in the ways that counted. You kept me sane during my pregnancy.” She was ticking off fingers again. It seemed to be her day for lists. “You put Phoebe’s collegefund over the top with your first big check and never forgot to be there for all her special moments, despite the distance. You even filled out your sister’s dating app when she was hesitant, and then nagged her continuously until she poked Gene back, so you get to take credit for their happiness too.”

Okay, I did like to remind her about that every anniversary.“You’re welcome, Morgan.”

“You bought your mother a place here so she could be happy near your sisteranda good cardiologist while still being independent,” she went on. “You gave my brother somewhere to stay that wasn’t my couch, even though you’d barely spoken to us in years and I’ve been a bitch to you. You’ve done all of that and more, and yet whenever you’re in trouble or hurting, we only hear about it secondhand, when it’s too late for us to be there for you.”

I reached out and squeezed the hand she’d been counting on for a moment before letting it go. “You’re being here for me now. And I don’t think Mom meant for you to feel excluded, Bernie. I know Morgan doesn’t. They’ve just always been sticklers for taking care of things on their own.”

I thought about my reaction to Morgan reading the journals. Bernie said I was like them, but it had never felt true to me. Morgan had protected me from bullies when I was younger. Mom had always been there, giving me a hand up when I needed it. And unlike Morgan, I’d needed it more than once. Was that what I’d worried about finding between those pages? Evidence that, as close as we were, she secretly wished I was more like them?

This was getting too maudlin.

“As for Phoebe,” I said, lightening my tone. “She’s my godchild and that was entirely selfish on my part, since I missed my baby window and she might be the only one willing to take care of me when I’m old and crotchety.”

“It’s not too late for you to come to the dark side. I hear forty-three is the new thirty-three.”

“That doesn’t feel remotely accurate. Oh, this is our exit.”

I slowed Jiminy to a crawl after turning down a street that I realized was leading directly to an actual racetrack. The clues had been there and I should have known, but maybe I’d just been so relieved the workout was over, I didn’t care what came next.

“Don’t worry, we’re only going to look around,” she assured me before I could whip a U-ey in the driveway. “Things are less frightening when you can visualize them.”

“Visualizing. Sure. Then what are the helmet and gloves for?” I asked suspiciously.

“You’ll see.”

My grip tightened on the wheel, but I turned in anyway. There was no one working in the guard shack, but Bernie said she had permission, so we drove right through and did a slow tour of the facilities. She pointed out the various garages and covered paddock spaces, fuel pumps, skid pad, viewing stands with bleachers and tables underneath and, of course, the closest parts of the track. I was surprised and a little dismayed to see so much concrete everywhere. I’d heard the guys talking about “the paddock” and assumed there’d be more of a Kentucky Derby vibe, with plenty of dirt and grass to horse around on.

“What’s the skid pad for?” I asked anxiously as we passed it. The black circle on the concrete told the tale of thousands of smoking tires doing endless screaming donuts.

“Don’t worry, it’s not for us. The skid pad is mainly for testing a car’s handling. Lemons is about driver endurance, not vehicle performance.”

She eventually directed me between a couple of garages and through a different driveway, then had me park in front of another long, low building, alongside several other cars. When she opened the passenger door and stepped out into the sunshine, grabbing her helmet with gloves inside it, I turned off the engine and grabbed mine. Maybe we were getting theminspected?

Keep dreaming, I thought as I got out. It sounded like there were some damn big bees buzzing on the other side of the building, and they were warning me to run.

“First of all,” I said as we walked toward the end of the building, “I would like to point out that an hour away is not atiny bitof a drive. Which is what you promised when I agreed to get in this car.”

“It is in Texas. And Jiminy deserves a few normal road trips before he transforms.”

Since I was really feeling our workout, I stopped and handed her my helmet, then did a slow squat-and-stretch. “You said working out would make me feel better,” I groaned at the twinges I was feeling everywhere.

She let a sideways smile escape. “Stretch it out. Trust me, in a few weeks you’ll appreciate the effect a little flexibility can have on the forty-something’s love life. You want to be able to enjoy being in your sexual prime instead of throwing out your back or pulling a muscle, don’t you?”

“That’s an interesting sales pitch,” I said lightly as I took back my helmet, “I’m not sure I’m your target audience.”

“Based on the energy I’ve been getting from you and my brother, I think you are. All I’m saying is, you might want to limber up sooner rather than later.”

Sooner. A lot sooner. Like a few days ago. If you counted the foreplay, over a week. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She stopped mid-step and turned around to stare at me with her penetrating brown eyes. “You’re as bad at lying as my brother is. It’s already happened, hasn’t it? That’s why you were limping when you let me in this morning.”

“I wasn’tlimping.”

I really was. Epsom salt baths couldn’t solve everything.

“Oh yes, you were.” Her brow furrowed thoughtfully. “Iwasn’t expecting it to happen this soon. Snails move faster than my brother when it comes to women he’s interested in.”

“We’ve been making out since my first day at the icehouse.” If I weren’t holding a helmet, I would have slapped both hands over my mouth.

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