Boost by Vi Summers
Chapter 43
-Raf-
Morning brought the dreaded memories created by last night’s stupidity. Hungover with vague recollections of calling both Tequila and Stevie, racking up a room tab that I now cringed at, not to mention hurting Greer in a way that lashed into me, I slung an arm over my face and groaned.
Running and drowning my sorrows normally worked, but without a woman or two in my bed to round out the trifecta, my burdens hadn’t eased in the slightest. Not that I wanted women plural; there was only one specifically I wanted.
I reached for my phone and squinted against the sudden bright light when the screen came alive. My heart dived from my chest to see yet another missed call from Greer yesterday evening. Today, however, there was nothing. Maybe she had finally got the message; that I was toxic and she deserved better.
While I craved her more than anything else, I was glad to be out of reachable distance. I was weak this morning and could easily succumb to desires that would only make our situation infinitely worse.
I ordered a room service breakfast—charging it to the room because, hell, my bill was already colossal, so why the fuck not—then stumbled my way into the bathroom.
The shower spray was too loud for my sensitive ears to handle. Each jet of water seemed to bounce around my thumping head before swirling down the drain. Turning it down as far as it would go, I gingerly stepped under the spray and shivered with goosebumps as my body adjusted to the initial shock of hot water.
I braced my hands on the wall for support and closed my eyes as the tiled cubicle warped and spun around me. After struggling through washing myself, I toweled off and wrapped a fresh dry towel around my waist as I walked back into the suite.
The entry door beeped as a key-card clicked in and out the lock, and, “Room service!” was called when the door cracked open.
I made for the door and grabbed the cart as the guy guided it through the door.
“Thanks, I’ll take it from here.”
“Of course, sir.” He waited while I grabbed a tip, then nodded politely before leaving.
Forgoing the dining table, I rolled the cart to the bed and sat on the corner of the mattress. Under the stainless steel dome an exquisite cooked breakfast lay in wait—one I immediately realized I couldn’t stomach. My gut turned and my mouth watered with nausea. I needed to sweat this hangover out before trying to eat.
After tugging on clothes, I shuffled my way through the hotel until I stood barefoot on the beach. The sun’s rays warmed my skin and danced over my tattoos as I shucked out of my t-shirt and jeans, coming to stand on the soft sand shamelessly wearing nothing more than black boxer briefs.
Knowing that I had a body worth showing off, I strode down to the water’s edge where the sand was firmer and began to jog parallel to the shore.
Barely fifty yards in, nausea struck again. Another fifty yards and I was searching for a private-ish spot along the cliffs. Luckily for me, most of the beach was sheltered from view from the resort, so no one witnessed me brace my hands on my knees and purge the alcohol I consumed last night.
With my throat on fire and my legs as stable as jello, I forced myself to jog again, having to pause a second time to vomit before making my way back to the suite.
The bathroom spun less the second time around, and I could handle the shower spray a little harder too.
Pulling on my jeans, sans the underwear that I binned, I sat on the edge of the bed again and lifted the dome on breakfast. Instead of causing my stomach to revolt, the savory smells made it rumble in hunger.
I even drank the cold coffee—that was how hungry I was. With food now easing the burn on my stomach lining, I picked up my phone and bit the bullet. I needed to ring Colton. He and I needed a conversation. I couldn’t keep going like this. Something had to give, and right now, that something was me before I fucking snapped completely.
Colton answered on the third ring. “Raf.”
“Hey.”
“All good?”
I scoffed. “Depends on your definition of good.”
“Well, according to your definition?”
“I’m out, brother.”
A beat of silence came before a huff from Colt. “Level with me, Raffie. Spell it the fuck out.”
“I’m done with the program, and this is my official resignation.”
“Dude, you’re being a little fucking hasty, don’t you think?”
I was, but I needed out. “I gave you Arlo, and I’ll give you another contact so the foundation can keep running, but it won’t be with me involved.”
“Is this about the bomb the press dropped?”
Frustration rose, and I took it out on him. “It’s about fucking everything, Colton. The past, the trying to keep my nose clean, the wanting what I can’t goddamn have.”
“I figured it involved voodoo pussy,” he drawled, then chuckled.
“Damn right it involves voodoo pussy!” I yelled and scrubbed a hand over my head. “I just can’t fucking do it anymore.”
“Is that your final decision?”
“It is.”
A curse hissed through the phone and papers shuffled. Colton then sounded as if he was on the move. “You want to go back to street racing?”
My heart kicked at the thought. “It’s in my blood, brother.”
“Fuckin’ A it is.” There was a pause before he added, “If you do get back into the scene, you know you owe me the inside scoop, right?”
A half-smile cocked my mouth. “As long as it remains anonymous. But we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.”
In other words, my hopes were soaring, and I feared they would be dashed by reality. I would turn back time to return to street racing. The only thing stopping me—aside from it being physically impossible—is having met Greer that fateful night.
“Despite it being years since we raced together, I know you, Raf. You won’t be able to stay away. And I know the thought of some punk-ass kid being better than you on the circuit fuels your fire. It’s only a matter of time.”
I grunted. It was true. The moment Arlo proved himself, I felt my age, and I fucking hated it.
“Fuck you.”
Colton burst out a laugh. “Fuck you. So, it’s official, then? You’re pussying out and legit giving me your notice?”
“I’m giving you my notice, man.”
The confirmation sounded as dejected as I felt. It killed me that I was letting him down. Letting the kids down who had potential for a bright future in Indy. It was at that moment I vowed to find a way to help Colton with the foundation while not being directly involved.
“I’ll see you at the track, yeah?” Colt asked.
With Arlo’s first season almost upon us, Colton and his team were working their asses off to get him ready.
“Yeah, brother, you will.”
“Now go sort your shit out with Greer. I’m sick of hearing your whiny ass complain.”
“I wasn’t fucking complai-”
Colton’s sadistic laughter cut through my retort, then the call disconnected.
“Motherfucker,” I hissed, and tossed my phone onto the bed.
The clock read eleven. I was already an hour late for checkout and would no doubt have an extra fee to pay because of it. Reaching the lobby and settling my account, I walked out of that resort two and a half grand poorer, sporting a killer headache as an I hope you enjoyed your stay, and without my fucking underwear.
Back on the 101 heading south back to L.A., I counted down the miles until I finally pulled up to the closed gates of my driveway, two-and-a-half hours later. I fought the urge to fall into bed and sleep the afternoon away, opting to pull on a fresh change of clothing, down the maximum dose of painkillers, and knock back a coffee before heading out again.
Today wasn’t my usual visiting day, but I needed to see Mamá. She had been the backbone of our family even after the spinal cord within had been severed, and I couldn't ignore the overwhelming urge to visit her.
After many years of having anger rise after visiting her, the light in her eyes alone when I stepped into the room was enough to remind me that no matter how dark and out of control the external world was, it was the things we normally took for granted that mattered the most.
“Hi, Felicia.” I wearily smiled as I entered the air-conditioned reception at Summerset Care Home.
Her face lifted in surprise. “Hi, Raf. It’s not your usual visiting day.”
I shrugged and filled in the visitor’s sheet. “What mamá wouldn’t want to see me unexpectedly?”
Felicia tittered and waved a hand. “Oh, stop. Your mom is a popular woman today.”
I narrowed my eyes on her. “Who else has visited?” I refused to believe it was my sister. Her visits were few and far between; that disappointed Mamá, and in turn, disappointed me.
“A gorgeous woman called Greer,” Felicia gushed, and completely missed the way I jerked as my legs almost gave out.
“Greer? Not Greer Landon?” My heart hammered so badly I could hardly speak.
“That’s the one. You know her?”
I swallowed thickly. “You could say that. Maybe I’ll come back another time…”
“No, no, don’t be silly. Besides, now that you’re here, you can’t leave without saying hi to your mom.”
Fuck, she had me there. Nodding and forcing my body to move, I numbly walked through the corridors until I reached my mamá’s room. Soft murmurs came from behind the closed door. Greer’s. So sweet and gentle. So soothing.
I opened the door as quietly as I could, and no matter what I thought I’d find, nothing could have prepared me for the emotional punch to my chest.
Greer sat with her back to me, reading with a passion that immediately drew me into the story. Mamá sat opposite her with her head tilted back and lips parted in a peaceful sleep. My heart swelled a thousand times over, and I hadn’t known that love could feel so heavy yet uplifting all at once.
Not wanting to destroy the beautiful vision of Greer reading to Mamá, I leaned a shoulder against the wall and listened until my heart couldn’t take another dreamy word.
“Mamá’s asleep.” The rasp of my voice cut through the softness of Greer’s.
She gasped and whipped her head in my direction. And fuck me, I fell head over heels all over again.