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Summary: Her dreams for him had a different beginning.

AUTHOR: Zippit
EMAIL: zippit@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG
SERIES: Bittersweet Miracles
CHARACTER: Kelley Earnhardt Elledge, Dale Earnhardt Jr, w/mentions of Kevin and DeLana Harvick, Kelley POV
COMPLETED: April 20, 2008
WORD COUNT: 652
DISCLAIMER: 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. ;-)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: *poke poke poke at the muses* I’m getting there at least. I just need to keep this level of productivity up once the quarter starts again.
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JR Motorsports - Mooresville, North Carolina - February 1st, 2008

I’m not my brother. I don’t jump into things head first without thinking them through. He’s more the one who’ll do something rather than think it out or even talk it out. Well, that’s not really true. He’ll run on instinct first then pull back to think it over, usually when he’s committed too many resources to truly allow himself an objective view. It’s why I’m the one running the business side of JRM.

I’m the one who’ll start with the lists of pros and cons and do all the research I need to beforehand. Not to say Dale’s not cautious when it comes to money and business dealings, but things close to his heart? He’ll be there without a second thought. That’s why this whole business with Kevin and those babies of his has me worried. Dale was always a little bit in love with him, the heir to Daddy’s throne, the one who was so much like Daddy in too many ways. I worried about him breaking up Kevin and DeLana at first even though I should’ve known better than that. Dale knew how tough life was on a racing family to be the cause of more trouble.

I stopped worrying when Kevin and DeLana got married and Dale threw himself into the life racing offered. He was the late boomer ruled by his hormones and I could forgive him for that despite all the messes he landed himself in. I remember one time I woke to his frantic voice on the phone, babbling about some broken furniture. I really hope they stopped that tradition of breaking furniture at parties, but then this is Dale and his “posse” we’re talking about.

Flip through the papers he’s asked me to gather and I’m starting to worry again. I want nothing more than to toss them in the shredder. He’s doing entirely too much for Kevin and KHI. He keeps fending me off with excuses about how he’ll step back once Kevin’s ready to take over the place, but from all he tells me about those babies…. It’s gonna be a long time before Kevin’s ready for that. Goddamnit, Dale, you’re not supposed to be doing this to yourself.

You’re supposed to be enjoying yourself, free from all the things we left behind at DEI. Not tangling yourself in someone else’s life by taking on the responsibilities of a race shop and playing their emotional anchor. Take care of yourself for once, Dale. You’ve earned it. Stop taking care of your friends  for once in your stubborn ass life.

Slap the papers down on my desk and stare at them spread over the dark mahogany. They’re supposed to be your own kids, Dale. My nieces and nephews. I wanted to see you with kids of your own, instead you’re playing godfather to the kids of the guy you’ve had a crush on for years. You’re not even home anymore. Brad and the guys are starting to miss you. It hasn’t been the same around here and you aren’t even sitting on the JRM pitboxes. No, you’re pacing from one pitbox to another just like Rick does and it seems you’re doing a good job of hiding from the media or else I’m sure all you’re doing for KHI would be splashed across the headlines by now.

I know Clint’s given you an “apartment” and that the shop’s down there, but Kernersville isn’t your home. Neither is Charlotte. Your home’s here, in Mooresville, with us. It’s where your family is, where it’s always going to be. Come home, Dale. Stop playing the hero. Stop trying to make up for what you didn’t have when Daddy died. He’s not your responsibility. He’s not your family.

You don’t have to be strong for him, not like you were strong for us. You don’t owe him anything. You don’t owe him at all.

Just come home.

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Zippit - zippit@cryptoffic.com