Page 51 of Battle Scars

“Who— What?” I stammer.

“Did they detail all the ways they want to cut you to pieces and leave a mess for your mom and dad to find?” he presses. “Did any of them say they wanted to leave you in so many pieces that there would be no hope of your parents having an open casket at your funeral without you looking like Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“Gabe,” I whisper. I feel my eyes widen, and I can’t quite catch my breath. My legs shake, and I think I’m going to be sick.

“And let’s not forget they tried to fucking shoot you.”

“Please—” I beg for him to stop torturing me like this. Why can’t he just let me live in my bubble? I’m happy there.

Well, happy is subjective these days.

Content, maybe? Whatever, I’d rather not know any of that shit.

“Stop saying this isn’t serious,” he orders.

“Okay.”

“This is serious.”

“Okay.” So much exasperation in that one tiny word.

“What was the PR crisis?” he asks, abruptly changing direction.

It throws me off balance and keeps me jittery. He wants to scare me, and it works, but after last night, I just feel… I don’t know, broken. Between Gabe and Bobby, and then DHR and my dad’s crazy announcement, it feels like each hit takes another piece of me, and now there’s not enough pieces left to survive.

I force a heavy breath between my lips. “Bobby has strong ideas about what dinner last night meant,” I hedge.

“And that would create a PR crisis how exactly?”

“Because he’s decided that we should date, marry, and then I’d pop out his little race-loving babies,” I say, letting my frustration take over my words. I’m not watching what I say in front of Gabe, so I don’t consider that he’ll react poorly. Fully miss his body stiffening at the thought of me marrying anyone and having their babies. “And while I’m doing this, I’m not racing, because he’s decided I need to retire, as in now, so that he has a clear path to my family’s business. Not that I think I deserve it just because, but I have literally been training for this my entire life. In fact, I’ve had no life, because I’ve devoted it to DHR and whatever my dad thought I should.”

I don’t clock his reaction to Bobby wanting to steamroll right over me for my spot in the racing world. Racing is a cutthroat sport, so I should have been prepared for that. I just never thought it would come from my friend. Gabe has always thought of me as a spoiled brat. It wouldn’t surprise me that he probably thinks I’m getting my just desserts.

My phone rings.

“Hello?” I answer without looking at the caller’s name because my life is spiraling out of control and breakneck speeds.

“Adrienne, what the hell is going on?” my dad yells over the phone. “You’re retiring?”

“No, Dad.” I sigh. “I’m not retiring. Bobby would like me to, though.”

“Excuse me?” he growls. Yes, growls, like he’s channeling the man currently sucking up all of the oxygen in the kitchen.

“Dad,” I say, softening my tone. “I’m not sure I should be giving you the gritty details of my date last night.”

“Did he touch you?” he thunders.

For the life of me, I can’t figure out why he’s so mad.

“Dad, calm down. It was just dinner,” I answer him. “Bobby and I went to dinner the one time.”

“Then why is he calling me at six in the morning to ask for my permission to marry you and to let me know you’re retiring effective immediately?” Dad asks.

My face burns hotter and hotter, and I fear I’m in danger of my head exploding. I never gave Bobby the impression that I was okay with his plans. How could he have done this?

“Well, Adrienne?”

“I have no idea. We went on one date,” I explain. “And it was last night. He told me over dinner that he wanted me to retire. He said there won’t be room for both of us at DHR when he takes control of the company. I did not agree. I thought we’d talk about it later, but I was wrong.”