Page 55 of Rush
Savi had endured this argument with him countless times, tried to encourage him to go out and give their friends his time. They’d rallied around him and sent gift baskets and cards when he was in hospital, then they’d delivered home-cooked meals when he first came home. She knew lots of them had reached out to him, too, invited him to dinners and drinks and backyard barbecues. He had just had such a hard time adjusting to his new way of life that he retreated into himself. But Marco was here now, and she was starting to see that maybe all he’d needed was an outsider to invade his personal space and force him to embrace his reality.
Pulling into a parking space in front of the only store Marco needed to fulfil his dreams, Savi stopped the car. ‘We’re here.’
‘Don’t forget to let me out!’ Weston called out.
She opened the trunk and hit a button which allowed Wes to be lowered to the ground, and he immediately shot off. He got plenty of fresh air being out in the country, but this was different. He seemed excited. ‘Race you to the store, De Luca,’ he yelled, but he was already gone. Savi laughed as she watched two grown men chasing each other down the sidewalk, Marco purposefully lagging so he didn’t overtake him.
‘Hurry up, Cowgirl!’ Marco yelled, grabbing the attention of a few passersby. One was a gentleman who had done some work at the ranch the previous summer forher dad. He looked pleased as punch to see Weston out of the house, but he kept it to himself, tipping his hat at Savi when she noticed and smiling away. If everyone could behave like that, Wes might do this more often.
She locked the car, another gift from her to her family, and followed them inside. Marco was almost doubled over looking at the sheer number of boots in here; they lined the walls, all different colours. There were browns, pinks, blues, greys. Any colour you could think of, this store had them. ‘People come from all over the place to visit this one particular store.’ She grabbed a pair of pink ones in her size, admiring the embroidery.
‘I can see why,’ Marco responded, eyes tracing every pair. Thankfully the selection of hats was much smaller, because she imagined they would be here for hours just for the boots. ‘So, which colour do you think I should go for?’
‘The obvious answer is Revolution Racing red, but I think tan or black would suit you better,’ Savi answered, deciding to try the pink pair on. They would work great with her collection of white sundresses.
‘But if a specific pair speaks to you, then you’ve gotta try them,’ Weston added. ‘Sav has about thirty pairs, each of them different in some way but they all have a story tied to them.’
‘I have black ones with sunflowers on. Wore those the day we got Mocha and she nibbled on them– think she thought the flowers were real.’
‘And you’ve got the white ones with red hearts which you wore for graduation,’ Weston laughed. ‘They stole the spotlight when you walked onto the stage.’
‘I’m feeling like I need an entire outfit, guys…’ Marco called out from the end of the aisle, where he’d found the back of the store which was filled with shirts and jeans.
‘If that’s what you want, we’ll have you in the dressing room ASAP.’ Savi picked up a pair of black boots with dark brown embroidery and held them out to him. ‘How about these?’
‘Love them. I’ll get a just-for-fun pair, too.’ He waited for Weston to wheel himself back up the aisle out of the way of the brown pair he’d been eyeing. The main part of the boots was a dark brown while the leg consisted of burnt orange flames with blue stitching, very apt for a racing driver. ‘Or maybe two, because you’re right, I need Revolution red. We can rock up to the next race with our matching boots and the fans will be screaming couple goals.’
‘They already are screaming that and all you’ve done on camera is kiss a couple of times, which by the way, gross.’ Weston scrunched his nose up in disgust.
‘Wes, shut up. For once in your life.’ Marco let out a loud laugh at their bickering. ‘Don’t laugh, Monaco, it will encourage him.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he saluted.
Savi clutched her new pink boots tightly and walloped him on the arm with them. ‘Don’t call me ma’am. Ever. I draw the line at Cowgirl.’
‘Someone’s feeling feisty today,’ Weston commented, which only set Marco off more.
Savi pointed a finger at her brother. ‘Don’t think I won’t hit you too, Weston Jameson Hart. Your wheelchair doesn’tmake you immune. Come on, Monaco. Let’s get you a nice denim shirt.’
The two of them followed behind her still laughing but keeping any comments to themselves, and then suddenly Marco was lost in a maze of denim, leather, flannel and suede with his upper torso and head sticking out above the rails of clothing. ‘How am I meant to choose? There are so many options, and they all look great.’
‘We’ll choose for you,’ she suggested, picking out a few denim options. ‘You know… you could go all out and get this.’ Savi held out a denim shirt with the USA flag printed across the front and the shoulders.
‘I’m sold. Pass it here.’ He took it from her excitedly, adding it to his growing collection. ‘You choose another one that’s a little more subtle, and I’ll go grab a hat. Wes, come with me.’
They came back ten minutes later to find Savi leaning against a rail, having chosen a second shirt within seconds. She was a thrifter by nature, so this came easily to her. She also had a fake boyfriend who dressed very well, and a willing model who had the perfect athletic figure. Marco would do well at the rodeo if he ever gave up racing.
‘How much have you got?!’ She gawked at the mountain of items on Weston’s lap and in Marco’s arms. They might as well have bought the entire store.
‘I might be borrowing some of your suitcase space for Le Mans. Please pack light,’ he shrugged. ‘Right, dressing room. Wait here, guys. I’ll be needing your advice.’
They waited for an age as Marco battled with zips, belts and buttons behind the curtain, giving Savi a sparemoment to breathe. She had surprised herself with how level-headed she had been since the initial shock had worn off, and she was trying her best to focus on being home and being present. It just wasn’t as simple as she kept letting herself believe. She wasn’t sure if she was ever going to speak to Jesse again, and that sort of scared her.
‘Are you done yet?’ Weston shouted.
Marco’s head popped out from the red curtain, his curls dishevelled. ‘I don’t think you’re ready for how fucking cool I look.’ And with that, he stepped out of the dressing room.
The belt he’d chosen had a huge gold and silver buckle with the brand logo on it, the denim shirt with the USA flag fit perfectly, highlighting his broad shoulders, and the dark blue jeans hugged his ass in all the right ways. Not that she was looking too closely. Then there were the red boots and black hat, both of which suited him in a way Savi couldn’t quite explain. Marco was not the kind of guy who looked like he could pull this look off, until he put it all together. She was stunned. ‘Wow.’
