Page 77 of Ride with Me


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I drop my hands when he shifts to move just out of reach. The rejection stings, but I push it down. This isn’t about me. I’ve already had my world rocked by the loss of the future I thought I would have. It’s Thomas’s turn to face that horrible reality now, and all I can do is stand by and be there if he decides he needs me.

“I’m going for a drive,” he mumbles, glancing in the direction of the front hall. “Need to clear my head.”

I nod. I’d need some time alone to process such massive news too—which is exactly why I locked myself away for two weeks and drank a ridiculous amount of wine.

But then he surprises me by asking, “Want to take a ride with me?”

I can’t resist the hand he holds out to me. So I don’t. I slide my palm into his and let him lead me out to the front of the house.

My heels sink into the gravel as we walk to his SUV. Even torn up, his manners are still impeccable; he opens my door, helps me put my seat belt on, and even makes sure the hem of my dress is safely tucked inside the vehicle before closing the door again. We don’t speak as he climbs in next to me and turns over the engine, letting it rumble for a few seconds before he shifts into drive and navigates us onto the narrow country road.

The quiet is heavy. It’s not my place to break it no matter how oppressive it feels or how tempted I am to pester him with questions. I don’t even care where he’s driving us.

For now, I keep my eyes locked on the sights out the window, on the trees and the farmland and softly rolling hills. It really is beautiful out here, so different from the endlessconcrete of the cities I’ve spent my life in. I imagine it would be peaceful to live here full-time. I’m almost tempted to pull up a real estate website and see what’s available around here. Would Thomas mind me being neighbors with his family even after our divorce?

I might ask if I didn’t want to be the first to break the silence, but my head snaps in his direction when music starts to softly play.

“If I throw up,” he says over the opening bars of Ed Sheeran’s debut album, “I’m blaming you.”

I fight a grin, a bubbling warmth flooding my chest. “Is this a bad time to tell you my pockets are full of Kerrygold?”

Thomas lets out a loud laugh that seems to surprise him, but it has his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Hey, you’re the one who made the mistake of telling me your deepest, darkest secret.”

“I hope I can trust you never to share that with anyone.”

“I think our wedding vows cover embarrassing stories, so you’re safe.”

The corners of his lips pull up a little more. When he reaches over to grab my hand, I let him take it, lacing our fingers and not thinking twice. It feels right. It’s the comfort we both need.

“I’m sorry.” He glances my way, eyes softer now, before returning his attention to the road. “I didn’t mean to unload on you. You didn’t sign up for that.”

“Again, pretty sure I did by agreeing to marry you,” I point out. “And while we’re married, I’ll be here to listen to all your rants.” I pause. “Mostly because I love being in people’s business. It’s my only flaw.”

He gives a soft chuckle this time and the sound has me desperate to hear more. There’s something about making himlaugh, especially in a moment like this, that feels like it’s my purpose. We may have made a mess for ourselves, but maybe we stepped into each other’s lives at the exact right moment.

“My nosy wife.” It’s a fond—if not vaguely insulting—endearment, but it still makes my heart skip a little beat. “Anything in particular you want to know?”

I strain against my seat belt so he can see me better in his periphery. “Well, if you’re giving me carte blanche…” I wait until he nods before settling back and continuing. “You told me once that you and Andrew aren’t that close. Why is that?”

His fingers tighten for a second and I consider telling him,Never mind, you don’t have to answer. But when his grip relaxes, thumb brushing over mine, I keep quiet.

“I think I also told you how everything my brother did, I wanted to do it too,” he says after a few long seconds. “He was the first in our family to get into karting, the one who made me want to start. My father was thrilled to have both of his sons involved in motorsport, but Andrew wasn’t as welcoming of me getting into it. He wasn’t happy when Dad started focusing more on me.”

I may not have any siblings but I’ve heard horror stories of rivalries from others. With the way this tale is starting, I think I know where it’s headed. “You said he stopped racing to go to university instead. Was that the whole truth?”

Thomas’s parliament smile makes an appearance at my question. “Not completely,” he admits. “He stopped because our father decided to throw all his money and attention behind my career. I was only twelve at the time, but I guess he knew I had the potential to go far. Andrew, on the other hand, wasn’t performing as well. Dad gave Andrew an ultimatum: He could keep racing without our family’s support or go to university and have a guaranteed spot at the company after graduation. We all know what he chose.”

And now, if the conclusions I’m jumping to are correct, Andrew is getting his little brother back for stealing his dream.

“And your father’s fine with Andrew pulling the sponsorship?” I ask in near disbelief. “Seriously?”

Thomas blows out a breath. “I brought it upon myself with the Castellucci situation. If I hadn’t said those things…maybe this would be different. But I see where they’re coming from when they say they don’t want me representing the company.”

I watch the fight practically drain from his body. It’s like he’s justresigninghimself to all of this, like he really thinks it’s over.

“No, fuck that,” I hear myself say before my brain can catch up. “We can’t let them use that as an excuse.”