Painful Discoveries

Home : Stories by MystikHeather : Dead Martin Series : Painful Discoveries

Summary: Kevin gets the news.

AUTHOR: MystikHeather
EMAIL: mystikheather@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTER: Kevin Harvick, Dale Earnhardt Jr, Kevin POV
SERIES: Dead Martin Series
WORD COUNT: 998
DISCLAIMER: For entertainment purposes only, if you recognize it, I don’t own it. 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. ;-)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Open my eyes at the sound of constant movement outside the coach followed by hushed voices and strained whispers not quiet enough that I can’t hear them.  An annoying buzz like a swarm of bees and I want nothing more than to swat them away as moment after long moment drags by.  Finally sigh in relief as the voices move away but it’s too late and there’s no way that I’ll be able to get back to sleep.

I shift away from him just enough that I can turn on my side and let my gaze fall across his naked body.  Eyes drifting across skin just barely kissed by the sun, so smooth, tracing along long lean muscles until I can behold his face, so relaxed, like that of a sleeping angel.

Turn my eyes to the door and growl soft as the voices return, louder now.  I slip out of bed, barely taking the time to pull on sweats before  moving quickly out of the room and to the door, intent on silencing them before they disturb his sleep as well.  Pull the door open and glare out, looking down the short row to see figures disappearing around the bend, their heads turned towards each other as they continue their conversation.  Growl soft again as anger rushes through me, having a target to unleash it on and I actually take a step out of the coach to follow them.  Stopping just as suddenly as I almost fall, my foot slipping on something.

Glance down, startled, momentarily forgetting about my revenge on the voices as I see the piece of paper crushed half under my foot.  Glance up and down the row of coaches again before bending down to snatch up the offending scrap and slide back inside, closing the door softly and moving to lean against the short countertop. 

Flip the paper that has nothing but my name scrawled across the front open and begin to read.  Eyes widening as I work through his uneven scrawl, knowing with absolute certainty who wrote this letter.  My mind growing almost detached as I let my fingers drift across what can only be blood. 

Continue reading and it’s as if he’s standing over my shoulder reading to me and for a moment I shiver, barely catching myself from turning to look for a shadow that I know is not there.  Drop my eyes back to the paper and hear his voice clear in my head…

…You took him from me without a second thought.  Or maybe he was never really mine.  Maybe all it ever was was a dream…an illusion…one that I let myself get lost in.  And now the illusion has been shattered and I’m left staring at the broken pieces of my reality…

Shiver involuntarily, taking a deep breath as I fold the paper up into a small square even as I move over to the fridge and pull out a beer.  Way too early and yet exactly what I need, take a long sip to try and chase away the apprehension I’m now feeling.  Glance around and finally grab my wallet, shoving the scrap deep inside, hidden behind credit cards rarely used. 

Shiver again and growl as I can’t seem to shake it, taking another drink, knowing with absolute certainty that the note is something my love can never see, something I could never show him.  Because even though he never loved him, I just can’t bear to see the guilt that I know would flash in his eyes as he read the words…the horror when he saw the blood.

Curse softly as my cell phone suddenly starts to ring, barely managing to keep my grip on the bottle as it’s shrill sounds break the silence of the coach.  Grab it off the table and bring it to my ear, wanting to let him sleep undisturbed for just a few more moments, snarling my greeting.  “What?”  Feeling my heart skip as I listen to the voice on the other end, feeling the blood drain from my face and barely registering the crash as the bottle slips from my hand and shatters on the floor, glass and dark amber liquid pooling around my bare feet.

Mere moments that feel like days dragging by until finally I realize that the call has ended.  Set the phone down on the counter and stare blankly down at the mess at my feet, finally managing to drag myself into motion and I grab for the paper towels, crouching down to mop up the liquid, careful of the glass.  Dispose of everything in the garbage and wash my hands, washing away the scent of beer, scrubbing hard, perhaps trying to wash away the knowledge I’ve gained as well.

Press my palms against the counter and take a long breath, trying to make sense of the thoughts swirling in my head.  Finally push away from the counter and head back to the bedroom, needing to gaze upon him again.  Lean against the door way and just let my eyes drink in his absolute perfection, wishing more than anything I could protect him from what’s to come today.  Slowly move further into the bedroom, sliding down onto the bed next to him, wrapping my arms around him and pulling him close.

“Kev?” 

His voice is mumbled and thick with sleep and I want nothing more than to soothe him back to his peaceful rest.  Try to swallow back my own emotions knowing the pain I’m about to cause, gripping him tighter as I whisper soft in his ear.  “Dale…something’s happened…”

Almost lose my resolve as he turns in my arms and looks at me with eyes that could make the whole world melt.  But I know I can’t…know that there will be more calls soon and I want to be the one to tell him.  I need to be the one to tell him.  Swallow hard and force my voice to continue.

“It’s about Martin….”

These authors spend lots of time to write these stories. If you took the time to read this PLEASE take the time to give them some feedback. Happy writers write more ;-)

MystikHeather - mystikheather@cryptoffic.com