Rain Delay

Home : Stories by MystikHeather : Rain Delay

Summary: Another race postponed by rain leads another night of painful memories.

AUTHOR: MystikHeather
EMAIL: mystikheather@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTERS: Casey Mears/Jimmie Johnson, Casey POV
CATEGORY: Angst
WORD COUNT: 1,574
DISCLAIMER: 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. ;-)
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It’s raining again…a pouring, drenching downfall soaking everything.  How many times this year has it rained the day we’re supposed to race?  Three?  Four?  Too many if I’ve lost count.  So many I’m starting to dread even the mention of the word.  And now after hours upon hours of just listening to the rain beating down on the coach…I’m lost in thoughts and memories that I can’t escape no matter how hard I try.

Try to distract myself with movies and music, books and games…but it’s to no avail as inevitably my thoughts turn inward.  I think back to times when the rain was a good thing.  When it meant another day we could spend in each others arms in the secrecy of my coach. 

It was always my coach and never his, but for some reason that never seemed to matter.  Nothing mattered, nothing was important so long as I was in his arms.  Minutes and hours that seem like mere moments now were an eternity back then. 
Stolen time gone too soon…and yet I thought somehow it would last.  But now it’s gone in what seems like a single heartbeat.

I try to tear my thoughts away from the memories for the hundredth time today and find my eyes are drawn outside a small window…to the coach that even now we’re parked beside.  His coach.  I…we…must be masochists for wanting to be so close to the one that’s hurt us so much.  Everytime we leave the track we both make that silent promise to ourselves that next week we won’t park so close…we won’t need to.  And then next week rolls around and like moths to the flame we’re drawn as close as possible. 

Sigh softly and glance down at the arm thrown across my waist.  Feel his chest pressed against my back, strong and masculine, and I lean back against him.  I struggle to find that same sense of security that I’d always had in the arms of another but instead just a find a feeling of…familiarity.  Trace my fingers lightly across his wrist, staring at flesh that’s close but not quite the right shade, fingers that are just a bit longer than the ones in my memory.  Close my eyes, take a breath and it’s as if for a moment I’m surrounded by his scent…. 

Open my eyes as soft snores break the silence of the room, the illusion of the past shattered by the sound.  No…he never snored, never made a sound as he held me in sleep, and suddenly I have to move, have to get out of the bed and out of the room.  Carefully pull his arm up and slide out from under it, cursing softly as my legs are wrapped in sheets tangled by our lovemaking.  Finally free myself and stride quickly from the room, unable to help the shiver and sigh of the relief as I close the bedroom door behind me and step into the cool silence of the living room.

Grab the throw blanket from the back of the couch and wrap it around my waist as I move to the window next to the door.  Press my palm against the cool glass and watch through the dimming evening light as the rain falls into puddles, the drops become smaller and smaller.  Raise my eyes from the watery ground and once again find myself staring at the coach across the way.  Look at the windows, darkened except for one, and I imagine I can see movement behind the heavy drapes.  Or perhaps I’m not imagining it and I can’t help but wonder if he’s alone or if he’s got his new conquest wrapped around him in the bedroom. 

Bring a hand to my eyes and brush away the sudden tears as I wonder where it all went wrong.  Wonder just what I did to deserve being pushed out of his life, cast aside like toy outgrown.  People change, things change and life moves on but to this day I still find myself whirling a bit from the suddenness of it all.  I’m still longing for that explanation that I still hope one day will come but deep inside I know never will. 

It doesn’t work that way with him…and I should know that.  He practically warned me…that first night when he took me in his arms.  He led me to my bed and he told me that he didn’t do relationships.  But lost in his eyes and in the pleasure he made me feel…it was so easy to believe that he didn’t mean it.  And it grew easier with each passing day, each passing week.  Month after month of this hidden thing that I began to think of as a relationship, until suddenly…it stopped.

I can still see the smirk on his face as he told me it had been fun but that he wouldn’t be coming around anymore.  Can still feel the way my heart seemed to fall right out of chest…the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as he turned away without a word and walked off.  I still remember what it felt like to try to call out to him but be unable to form the words, unable to even make a sound.  The feeling of complete betrayal when I realized that he never loved me…and that I was just another one of his conquests. 

Yet I still long for his arms…his kiss.  I can close my eyes and still taste him and not even the bitterest tonic can chase that away.  They say hurt fades with time and it’s been months, but still it feels like a knife is lodged in my chest.  God he’s like a drug I’ve become addicted to, and most days I’ve give anything for my body to just forget the craving for him.

I stiffen as arms are suddenly wrapped around me from behind.  I didn’t even hear him come in the room.  Take a quick breath and force myself to relax, not wanting to lose this minimal comfort that I’ve somehow managed to find.  Lean back against him and for the hundredth time wish he was just a little bit shorter so I could lean my head back on his shoulder.  Turn my face into his neck and breath in his scent…sharper, muskier than the one that still haunts my dreams, and try to find comfort in it.  I want to find comfort in it, want so bad for him to be able to chase all of the memories away.

Hear him sigh softly in my ear, knowing his eyes have landed on the same coach I’ve been staring at, for I don’t even know how long, as his arms tighten around me. 

“Come to bed Casey…It’ll be better in the morning…”

His voice is barely more than a whisper in my ear but it’s a whisper full of understanding.  And of course it would be.  After all I was the one he had been cast aside for.  My best friend for years and even in his pain he’d tried to warn me.  And I’d ignored him and let myself fall into the same trap he had found himself in.  I’d pushed him away…and isn’t it the strangest of ironies that I find myself now in his arms?

Swallow hard as emotions suddenly threaten again and I make a soft sound.  I don’t want to hurt anymore.  I don’t want to feel this heartbreak over someone who so obviously just used me.  Whirl in his arms and press my face against his neck again, trying to force the emotions back as he just holds me, his hands moving slowly up and down my back. 

Feel fingers under my chin, lifting my gaze to his, and I stare at him through tear-filled eyes.  For the barest moment I see the same pain reflected in his own eyes before he shuts it away in a way I haven’t yet learned to do. 

“It’ll get better…I promise it gets easier, Case…”

Again that soft whisper and I close my eyes, letting his voice wash over me, letting it chase everything else away as I just yearn to forget the pain.  Answer with my own soft whisper as I cling tighter to him.  “Take me back to bed Jimmie…”

I let him lead me back to the bedroom and pull away only to crawl back under the covers.  Watch him through half open eyes as he moves to the window and very carefully closes the heavy drapes, blocking the view that was causing me pain…what I’m sure was causing us both pain.  He just hid it better.  But that’s what they say about practice, isn’t it?  Watch as he slips into the bed and find myself crawling into his arms almost before they’re open to me, pressing against his body and squeezing my eyes closed. 

I’m only half listening as he whispers soft words into my ear, nothing but random statements and murmurs as his hands move across my skin again, and I know he’s trying to soothe me back to sleep.  Take a deep breath and let his scent wash over me, so very different and yet I find myself starting to drift from the comforting familiarity of it.  Let myself take comfort in the arms of the only one who really understands. 

After all…he hates the rain as much as I do….

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MystikHeather - mystikheather@cryptoffic.com