Chapter 6

Battlefield - SkyDxddy

My heart races as I make my way back to our trailer. Part of me wanted to confess it all to him. Confess everything that Sayshen so clearly sees already, but I can't. All it would do is make things worse. He can't help me even though I can tell he wants to. No one can. I can feel how deeply he seems to care, even if I don't understand why. The way he looked at me. Touched me so cautiously, like I was a China doll he was afraid to break. It made me feel things. Things I shouldn't be feeling for another guy. Not when I'm with Christian.

I do find myself believing that all those things he claimed to feel for me in high school were genuine. I mean, it didn't seem like it at the time, but now, I've seen a new side of him. A side I wish I'd known back then, maybe then things would be different. Back then, he just let me and everyone else think it was all a game. Something is different about him now. He's bolder.

But now that gorgeous, flirty smile he's always thrown my way has been replaced with a concerning frown. Now when he looks at me his eyes reveal his heartbreak and rage. It's like he sees something broken inside of me, and he wants to fix it. Especially when he confronts me about the marks Christian leaves behind. Marks I clearly need to do a better job at hiding.

How sad is that?

Instead of admitting to myself that I need to leave. To end my relationship and walk away because even I know Christian is never going to stop, I'm thinking of new ways to hide the marks he leaves across my skin. I don't know when it happened, but I've come to realize at some point I just started accepting it. Accepting that this is my life now, and the only way I'll ever get out is if one day I set him off so bad that he takes it too far. So far that it will be my face on the missing posters hanging downtown. Stapled to the poles and taped up in the shop windows.

What would Sayshen do then?

Making my way through the pits, I pass the next round of guys headed out for the morning heat. I know Christian is in this round, too, and though I don't normally make it to the stands this early to watch, today I need to—especially if word of mine and Sayshen's little altercation makes its way to his ears. That won't be good for either of us. Christian won't take lightly to Sayshen sticking his nose into what goes on between us or hearing about me being behind the canteen with another guy. Not only do I know it would be the cause of yet another beating, I know it would be a bad one. One where the marks he leaves behind are impossible to hide, and I find myself in the emergency room, spinning some wild tale about how they got there. Another mugging perhaps? Or maybe this time, I got hit by a bus.

Wouldn't that be lovely. I mean, on one hand, it's a way out.

When I approach the trailer, I find Christian still on his bike under the large black and gold tent set up outside. Which is odd, normally he's one of the first guys out. His coach, Julian, is beside him, giving him directions and strategizing for the heat. Knowing Christian, he won't listen—never does. He thinks that because he's the fastest guy on the team, he knows everything and usually tends to do whatever he wants. I'll admit, more often than not, the choices he makes out on the track end up paying off for him and the Vipers.

Christian's visor is open, and his cold eyes trail me as I make my way to the trailer door. Feeling the weight of his condescending glare I tuck my hair behind my ear and avert my gaze. I don't even have to meet his eyes to know he's pissed. There's no way he's heard about Sayshen and I getting into it yet, which means he's pissed about something else. My guess is the fact that I wasn't here earlier to help him get ready to head out. Julian pats Christian on the shoulder and heads to the front of the bike. He checks the temperature gauge before removing the velcro tire warmers off both the front and back and hanging them over the top bars of the tent.

The tire warmers. Fuck.

One of my many duties for Christian when at the track is to ensure his warmers are always on. Heated tires are needed on the track for proper traction. If the tires aren't hot enough on the cool tarmac, the tires will spin and slide around, making going fast or taking turns too dangerous. This morning, in my rush to get coffee, and then being delayed by Sayshen, I realize, I never turned them on.

Christian snaps his visor closed, and Julian pulls the bike stand off the back wheels, freeing the bike. Christian twists the throttle, revving the engine loudly three times before he turns his head in my direction and pulls out down the laneway of the pits, headed toward the track.

Well, at least I know his anger isn't about Sayshen.

The announcer's voice cracks through the loudspeakers around the pits, announcing the start of the next round. Quickly heading inside, I grab a water bottle from the fridge and head back out toward the bleachers. It's not the coffee I was hoping for, but it's better than nothing. Reaching the top row of the bleachers, I find a seat next to an older couple and turn my sights on the starting line. It doesn't take long for me to spot Chrisitan. But it's when the black and neon green bike with the Speed Demons logo pulls up next to him my stomach ends up in my throat.

Number twelve. Sayshen Shaw.

Frozen in my seat, I watch as he pulls right up to Christian with his visor still open. He snaps his head in Christian's direction, who in return opens his visor. Even from here, I can see words being exchanged between them, and by their body language and the way Christian grips the throttle it doesn't look like a friendly conversation.

Shit.

My heart thumps violently in my chest. No. This can't be happening. Maybe it's nothing. I could be overreacting and making normal competition about me when it's not. But the moment Christian briefly lifts his eyes to where I'm seated in the crowd, I know Sayshen most definitely mentioned me, and Christian is pissed.

Sayshen turns his sights back on the track just as the horn blows, signaling the start of the race. The bikes take off. Speeding around the track for the first lap of three. I stand, trying to keep my eyes on Sayshen and Christian as they fall to the back of the swarm.

The morning wind whips around me, blowing my hair around my face, and I quickly brush it away to keep my eyes focused on the race. It's clear early on that neither Christian nor Sayshen will be placing very highly in this round, but that doesn't stop them. By the second lap, they're still in the last two places, battling it out in their own race. I don't know who I want to see win. Part of me hopes Christian winning might lessen the blow I know he'll inflict tonight. But fuck what a rush it would be to see Sayshen show him up.

As the others begin their third lap, the people around me in the bleachers start to make their way down the narrow stairs and back to the pits.

Unable to tear my eyes from them, my head spins. Playing out all the different scenarios and ways the rest of my day could go, depending on how the race ends. How will Chrisitan react to losing not only to Sayshen, but everyone else on the track? It's only a heat race, but to Christian there is no race that doesn't matter. I already know being in the last two spots most likely has him internally raging. Losing to Sayshen now, would only fuel that fire.

He'd be setting out for him moving forward with the season. I shouldn't be concerned for Sayshen. But I am. When it comes to Christian, I've come to recognize the telltale signs over the years that he's about to explode. The way his body moved and shifted when they were lined up before the race told me everything I needed to know about the effect Sayshen has on him. The sheer signs go unnoticed by some, but not by me. Not when each and every one of them has been followed up with fists and pain.

You'd think since I'll most likely be the one on the receiving end of Christian's wrath, I'd be afraid for myself. But I'm not. It's Sayshen I find myself worried for. That flirty boy from high school with the gorgeous smile. The blunt and bold man from this morning, with the gentle touch. A touch that sent shockwaves through my body. It's him I'm worried about. But I don't know why. It's not like he's ever been anything to me besides a pain in the ass.

A really hot pain in the ass.

Christian and Sayshen are the last two bikes to cross the finish line and of course, Sayshen crosses it first. Christian slams his gloved hand down on his handlebars, and gestures aggressively to Sayshen before they make their way back to the pits in parallel. Shit. Rushing down the stairs I quickly push through the crowds of people and bikes, and head toward mine and Christian's trailer.

Christian, however, beats me there. Julian is already behind him with the bike stand as he backs the bike into its spot under the tent. Turning off the engine, he opens up his visor before climbing off. Julian goes right to work, getting the warmers wrapped around the back tire. I fluff up the collar of my sweater before heading under and taking the cords for the front warmer in my hands. I pull it down from the bars, and start wrapping the heated fabric around the tire. Christian grabs me by the forearm roughly and pulls me away from the bike.

"Let Julian do it, that way at least I know it fucking gets done," he snaps as he looks down on me. I gulp. Julian pays no mind to Christian's aggression toward me. Not surprising, I've met his wife and though we're not close, people in our situations tend to recognize each other.

A bike pulls ups, drawing Christian's attention. He releases me, shoving me away before pulling his helmet over his head and slamming it down on the table next to the trailer. I rub my arm where he grabbed me. A pathetic attempt to ease the aching pain his tight hold left on my muscles.

My eyes follow Christian as he makes his way toward the bike. My heart stops when I spot the neon green number twelve on the front fender.

Sayshen.

He brings his bike right up to the gold and black tent as he violently revs the engine at Christian before opening the visor of his helmet. Looking at me, he trails his eyes down my body to where my hand is rubbing my arm through the thick sweater before they snap back to Christian.

"So, you like putting your hands on women I see, Cordova," Sayshen spits aggressively. "You're a fucking dead man." Christian laughs, finding humor in Sayshen's threat. He's always thought himself to be untouchable. He brings himself to stand a few inches from Sayshen, whose hand grips the throttle of his bike tightly.

"Better watch your tone, Shaw. Don't let your little early morning win go to your head. We both know who the better rider is."

"Yeah, me. That's why you're so hard pressed you came back to your trailer and put hands on your woman, right?" Sayshen replies with sarcasm. "You know, it takes a real piece of shit to lay hands on a woman," he adds, nodding toward me. "You think people don't see it? We do. We all see you for the weak fucker you are, and your days are numbered."

"Tough talk for a kid with no proof. She's got some bruises, so what? Maybe she's clumsy," he laughs as he looks over at me. "Shit maybe she's a freak in the sheets. Did you consider that before accusing me of beating my woman? Maybe that tight cunt of hers feels so fucking good wrapped around me that shit gets out of hand and she likes it. I mean why would she stay with me if I was beating her, right? Regardless, I'll handle my woman however I see fit, cause she's my woman," Christian replies.

Tension between them rises. Clearly sensing it, Julian heads toward them, and stands between them to prevent it going any further. "Ain't it cute, babe?" Christian asks, directing the question to me.

"W─What?" I stammer with a cracked voice.

"This little crush Baby Shaw seems to have developed for you." Christian makes his way toward me, and pulls me into his arms tightly as he holds Sayshen's stare. "Look at him thinking he's your white knight, saving you from the evil villain so he can take you away with him. But you don't want to go anywhere, do you baby?" he asks.

"No," I whisper. Lowering my eyes to the ground. Christian pulls me tighter against him, digging his nose into my hair as he inhales my scent.

"Louder baby, I don't think he can hear you over there."

"No!" I shout. "I─I don't want to leave you, Christian." Bile rises in my throat as the words slip from my lips. Lies. It's all lies. I should've told Sayshen the truth. I should've told him everything, but all I can do now is hope he sees through these lies as easily as he did all the others I told him.

Slowly, I lift my eyes from the ground to meet Sayshen's. If I thought his eyes were full of rage earlier, then I was wrong. Pure and utter carnal anger flashes back at me for a few brief seconds before he snaps his visor closed and takes off on his bike. Christian pushes me away, nearly causing me to trip over one of the small chairs against the trailer. He makes his way back over to where Julian is standing next to his bike and they laugh about the altercation.

I inhale slow and deep. Filling my lungs. A single tear cascades down my heated cheek, but I quickly wipe it away as I watch him take off. Leaving me behind. Leaving me with my abuser. There is no one to blame but myself. Because I allowed this to happen. Sayshen spoke up for me. Defended me and made me feel safe for the first time in years. He fought for me, gave me multiple outs, and like a fool, I turned them all down.

I'm a coward.

I deserve what comes next.