Keep Me In | DR3 | BOOK 1

53 - Whats Past is...

Though, I recognized it nonetheless. Not because it was a number I had expected a text from. Not even because it was a number I had been excited about receiving an unexpected text from.

No, this, no matter what the message would read, would be quite unwelcome indeed.

--

I had been staring down at the unsaved number on my phone for what felt like an eternity. The smoothed plastic of my protective case suddenly grew hot, the phone underneath it shifted in weight until it resembled a cement brick resting in the palm of my hand. My temples throbbed, the air around me growing thin. 

It was lucky that James had set off to fetch my car, that I hadn't gone with him, or that the text hadn't come in any earlier. At least I was on my way out of here, then I could deal with this alone, I thought to myself. With a click, I shoved my phone back in my sweater pocket, taking my hands and swiping them across my thighs, as if I had to cleanse them of something. Like I had just run my hands through a pile of dirt. 

Through rubble.

What could he possibly be texting me for? Now, of all times?

My breath escaped through my mouth, eyes focusing back on the scene in front of me, the familiar rumble of an exhaust bringing me back down to earth. Oddly, bringing me comfort. Centering my thoughts. The plain white paint of the car was now adorned with grey and red lettering on either side, bearing an uncanny resemblance to the photos of the GT3 Cup-car that Porsche Carrera Cup of GB ran in its respective years.

James smiled at the apparent look of approval on my face, leaving the car running in the doorway of the garage, drivers side door open, ready for me to hop in.

"She's back in your hands, then. Take care of her."

James spoke as he returned to my side, admiring the car from a distance. I pulled my lips up just enough to be considered a response, my brain occupied with processing two very different things at one time.

"Yeah. I'll make sure she sits tight at the Hangar until showtime," I managed to spit out.

"Excellent!" James nodded in approval. "Our next step will be training; getting you a couple of sessions in the 992, that is, to familiarize yourself with the beast..."

I blinked hard in hopes of centering my vision back to the man speaking directly in front of me. Back to this moment. Not where it was going. Hoping to bring me back to now, to the current moment. Away from the image of headlights spinning in front of me, the screech of the rubber, the pull of the carbon ceramic brakes, the steering wheel ripping out of my hands as it spun.

My stomach churned, in the most inexplicable way. It was all as if I was back there. I thought I had escaped this. I got my bandaging removed, I was all clear. It was all over with. I had moved on, with Daniel. With the person I wanted to be with this entire time.

How could he so easily pull me back?

"So," James raised his brow at me, pausing as he looked back at the car behind him for a moment, rocking back and forth expectantly on his heel. My silence, my inability to focus, rather, was clearly unsettling him as much as it did me. Say something.

"Good, all sounds good. All good," I stammered out with a toothy grin, silently hoping that whatever he had been clambering on about for the past 5 minutes would be repeated in an email somewhere. Better yet, that it was just friendly conversation.