Fueled (Driven, #2)(49)

“Colton…It’s okay.” Reassurance fills his voice.

“I just don’t want you to think—”

“I don’t think anything,” he soothes in a way only a father can to a son. “Take a breath, Colt. It’s okay. I’ve waited a long time for you to ask—”

“You’re not mad?” The one fear I have bubbles out of my mouth.

“No. Never.” He sighs, resigned to the fact that a small part of me will always worry regardless of the passage of time.

I feel like a hundred pound weight has been lifted from my chest. Freed me from the fear of asking. “Really?”

“It’s natural to wonder,” he assures. “Normal to want to learn about your past and—”

“I know all I need to know of my past…” The words come out in a whisper before I can stop them. Silence hangs through the line. “I just…f*cking Rylee…” I mutter in exasperation.

“You’re having dreams again, aren’t you?”

I struggle to answer. I want to tell him because I feel obligated to be honest after everything he’s done for me, and at the same time feel the need to lie so that he doesn’t worry about the memories that debilitated me as a child. So he doesn’t remember how detrimental they were. So he doesn’t find out everything that had happened. “I saw it in your eyes when I got back from Indonesia. Are you okay? Do you need—”

“I’m fine, Dad. It’s just that Rylee had asked if I knew what had happened to her. That maybe if I knew I might get some closure. Be able to shut some old doors…”

He’s silent on the connection for a moment. “I kept tabs on her for a while. I wanted to make sure when she got out of jail that she didn’t come back to find you or make trouble for you when you were just starting to do so well. I stopped about ten years ago,” he admits, “but I’ll call the PI that I used, he’ll know her habits better than anyone—and we’ll see what he can find. If that’s what you want…”

“Yeah. Thanks. I just…”

“No need to explain, Colton. You do what you need to fill in that piece you’ve always felt is missing. Your Mom and I knew this day was coming, and we want you to do whatever you have to do to find peace. We’re okay with it.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose and close my eyes, fighting the burn that threatens within. “Thanks, Dad.” There’s nothing else I can say to the man who gave me life after being dead for the first eight years of my existence.

“Sure, son. I’ll call you when I have any news. Love you.”

“Thanks, Dad. Me too.”

I’m just about to hang up when he speaks again. “Colton?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m proud of you.” His voice wavers with emotion, which in turn makes me swallow the lump in my throat.

“Thanks.”

I hang up the phone, toss it on the table, and lean my head back against the wall. The loud breath I exhale into the silence does nothing to ease the overwhelming emotions swimming through me. I sit there for a bit, knowing I need to apologize to Beckett and wanting Rylee in the worst way. Needing something to clear my head.

The idea hits me like lightning, and I’m up, dressed, and climbing out of the RV in less than five minutes. I see the guys working in the garage off to my right, but I can’t talk to anyone right now. Don’t want to. I walk into the open bay where the favorite of all my babies is parked—Sex.

I don’t even take a second glance to appreciate the F12’s clean lines and flawless fire engine red perfection, but I sure as hell will enjoy her speed in about one minute. I climb behind the wheel and when the engine rumbles to life, I feel a piece of myself return. Spark back.

I zip past the garage, noting Beckett’s refusal to meet my eyes—f*cking stubborn bastard—and exit the track. I crank up the volume as The Distance comes through the speakers. Great f*cking song. The minute I hit the 10 and see it’s unbelievably empty for this time of day, I drop the hammer and fly. Fly faster than is safe but the feeling—luxury cocooning me, perfection in my hands, and an engine that talks to me—clears my head, and eases the self-inflicted tension pulling from all directions.

Sex never disappoints me when I need her the most.

By the time I approach traffic, my head is a little clearer and my mind is made up. I pick up my phone and make the call.





As I look across the kitchen at Zander and his tutor working on his spelling words, I hear the front door slam open. The excited chatter of the boys fills the hallway. They are usually animated when they get home, but today the noise is off the charts. So much so that Zander looks up from his paper and raises his eyebrows at me.

Zack comes barreling around the corner, so excited he stutters—as he normally does when overly excited—for a second. “Ry-Rylee and Za-Zander…Hurry up and get your stuff!”

“No running in the house, Zack,” I warn. “What are you talking about?”

The other boys come flying into the great room before he has a chance to respond. I look over at the boys to scold them for running in the house when my voice falters.

Standing at the entry to the room is Colton. Reckless. Sexy. Devastating. The three words hit me at once at the sight of him.