Follow Me

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Summary: The guilt eats at her, but what can she possibly do to make things right?

AUTHOR: Mick
EMAIL: mick@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
SERIES: Twisted Web
CHARACTER: Chandra Johnson, Ingrid Vandebosch, Chandra POV
WORD COUNT: 1,173
COMPLETED: August 15, 2008
DISCLAIMER: If I owned them I’d be too busy to write this stuff. Just fiction, folks. I own NOTHING and am affiliated with NO ONE mentioned here. Not the drivers, not the teams, no one. This is all fiction and fun. In other words...NOT REAL, NOT REAL, NOT REAL. ;-)
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Dirty Mo' Acres

There's never been any expectations between us, throughout all of this. We knew where we stood and that was that. It was a fun time to be had, it was me and him enjoying one another's company and sexual prowess. We knew it was all about the sex and the physical relationship we shared. It was about having some fun and sharing a couple laughs in between rounds of mind blowing sex and all the thrills that came with it.

…until now.

How it all came down to this is beyond me. One second we were having a fun little affair and the next thing I know I'm filing for divorce and living with him while my husband is off with his ex-boyband-fuck-buddy. My life is severely screwed up and I have no one to blame but myself for all of it. I let Junior in my pants. I enjoyed every second of it, every single time.

So then why do I feel so fucking guilty about all of this? Why does it eat at me day and night that I've finally gotten what I wanted?

Well, fuck, that's easy.

This isn't what I wanted.

What I wanted was selfish. I wanted to have my cake and eat it, too. For a while, I did. I had my perfect husband and our perfect little marriage and a decent sex life. Then Junior came along and suddenly I wanted some fun on the side and he was more than willing to provide it. I never wanted the two sides of the coin to meet. I never thought that they would. When it all came crashing down that day, I knew I had to make a decision and I've second guessed myself every second since.

It became clear within minutes that Junior and I would never be anything more than friends with benefits. The thought of us being in an actual relationship baffled us both. He's far too frat-boy for me and I'm way too old for his taste in girlfriends. And while he enjoys playing with them, my breasts are about a quarter the size of the ones he usually goes for. Not to mention that aside from a decent shot with a hunting rifle, we have nothing in common. No, couple material we certainly are not.

I'm no fool. I know Junior took me in because he feels guilty and responsible for me. He knows as well as I do that we both did this and it wasn't a one sided conversation. He's been a trooper through all of this, doing everything he can to make me feel welcome in his home. A home he and I both know will never be "ours". I've debated going home several times already, but seeing as Jimmie refuses to answer his phone, I have no way of knowing where the hell he is. It was risky enough going back there to gather up some of my things while I knew for sure he was at the shop.

Daytona is looming over our heads, quickly creeping up on us and I don't know what the hell to do with myself. I have to be there, if for nothing else than pretending that everything is okay. So far we've all been able to keep this in our tight little love triangle. I'm not even sure if Nick totally understands the severity of the situation. For all I know, Jimmie told him nothing. The last thing we need is for the other drivers to find out. Or the fans, for that matter. The minute the wrong person finds out, it's going to spread like wildfire and then we'll be totally fucked. How bad is it going to look when people find out that Jimmie Johnson's wife spent the off season fucking his new teammate? I doubt they'd consider it my "welcoming" him to the family.

I don't know what I was thinking, calling Ingrid. I panicked and had a moment of weakness and before I could stop myself I was babbling to her about needing someone to talk to and suddenly I was telling her to meet me at Junior's house because I haven't been living at home for a couple days, now. She sounded shocked and surprised, but not completely. There was an edge in her voice, like she's known all along that something was up with Jimmie and I but she just couldn't put her finger on what exactly it was. My phone call must have clarified things for her in an instant.

Pace back and forth impatiently on the front porch of his house, waiting for Ingrid's car to come rolling up the driveway. I'm not even sure if she and Jeff have even been here before. Junior and Jeff have a relationship, yes, but it never seemed like the "come race karts on the acres" type. They were never really close outside the track, from what I could tell. I start to gnaw on my nails, a nasty habit I kicked years ago, but has recently come back with a vengeance. It's either chew my nails or take up smoking, and I'm pretty sure fingernails won't give me some sort of terrible disease. Junior, on the other hand, has decided that smoking a pack of Marlboro Reds a day is the best cure for his nerves. I've decided not to mention his sudden impression of a chimney. We all have our vices, who am I to judge?

My heart skips a beat when I see a car rolling up to the house, and skips two more when I see Ingrid in the driver's seat. She's come alone, not even Ella with her, which means she's more than likely told Jeff where she was going. Fuck, what the hell was I thinking?! I can't believe I'm dragging an outsider into all of this. The last thing we need is for Jeff to go running to Jimmie, trying to patch us up. Jimmie's never going to forgive me as it is, I can only imagine how much angrier it's going to make him when he realizes that I've blabbed to Jeff and Ingrid about my indiscretions.

"Chani? Aw, Chani, what's wrong? What happened?" It's only when Ingrid's arms wrap me in a warm embrace that I realize I've been crying since before she showed up. I'm so numb I can't even feel the tears falling from my eyes anymore. I cling to her, my body trembling as sob after sob escapes my throat, babbling into her shoulder about what a fool I am. I'm sure most of it doesn't even make sense to her, but it feels so good to get it out, even if she can't understand what's going on quite yet. She will though. As soon as I can compose myself, I'm going to come clean about all of it. I can't do this alone anymore. I need someone to help me get my mess of a life back together.

I want my husband back.

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Mick - mick@cryptoffic.com