Betrayal

Home : Stories by Catw00man : The Chase Series : Betrayal

Summary: Missing “The Chase” is hard for everyone.

AUTHOR: Catw00man
EMAIL: catw00man@cryptoffic.com
RATING: PG-13
CHARACTER: DeLana Harvick
SERIES: The Chase Series
CATEGORY: General/Romance/Angst
PROMPT: Taming the Muse #29 (#4 for me) - et tu, Brute?; 10_per_genre - #5 Memories/Past; Nascar_Fic100 - #69 Cheating
COMPLETED: February 10, 2007
WORD COUNT: 2,243
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. ;-)
DEDICATION: To Heather my beta who always takes care of me. Thank you sweetie, your help means so much to me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok...first off, this is not a song fic but it is very inspired by one. Basically D hijacked my brain when I would listen to My Immortal by Evanescence and made me listen to it again and again until I finally wrote this. She wants a “Chase” series. I'd love to know what yall think.
AUTHOR'S NOTE2: This takes place the Saturday before the first race of The Chase 2005 when Kevin Harvick, Dale Earnhardt Jr and Jeff Gordon all missed The Chase.
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Chase Race #1 - New Hampshire International Speedway: September 18th, 2005

It’s started again.

Round two of “The Chase,” and for the second year in a row I…we…he isn’t a part of it. 

I cover my face with my hands and rock slowly back and forth on the couch as I try to force myself to say the words.  He isn’t a part of The Chase.  Not me.  Not even we.  Not this year…and maybe never again.  He missed the top ten, and this year w-he wasn’t even close.  This season has been one disaster after another and now…now I don’t even think we’ll survive it.

I drop my hands and look around the darkening empty space and I swear I see him everywhere.  Little things that I never noticed or that even annoyed me before mock me now that he’s not here.  His socks at the end of the couch, carelessly tossed aside this morning when he got ready for practice.  His sunglasses on the table by the door, unneeded as the night falls.  His hat that sits on the kitchen table, black and silver with the taunting little flaming logo we designed together to try and encompass his nickname as well as his wild side.  But none of these little “reminders” can touch the overwhelming presence that still lingers here.  The overwhelming feeling of…

“Kevin…”

His name is just a whisper on my lips and I close my eyes again at the pain the simple word causes me. 

He won’t be coming home tonight.  I’m almost certain of it because last week everything changed.  Last week in Richmond everything finally fell apart and all my suspicions and fears became a reality.  I had seen the way they looked at each other.  I knew they were friends.  Junior has had his coach parked by ours for as long I can remember.  But until last week…Kevin had always come home.

I push off the couch and walk across the small space to look out the window to the driver’s lot and the white motor coach covered in painted orange flames next door.  The lights are still off.  They still aren’t back.  Maybe, maybe he won’t go back over there.  Maybe he’ll come home.

And maybe I need to stop kidding myself.

I wrap my arms around myself, a chill running through me even though the room is plenty warm.  Last week when they both missed The Chase marked a change for all of us, and I still don’t want to accept it.  I don’t want to believe that he would blatantly break our marriage vows, that he would actually spend his nights somewhere else…before finally coming back to me.

Feel a tear slide down my face as I don’t know which is worse, the fact that I know he’s cheating on me or the fact that he’ll fly back home to Kernersville with me and pretend everything is still ok.  And I don’t think I can handle it.  Last week when he went to him I thought it was over--that he would come home and demand a divorce.  I never dreamed we’d just continue on as if nothing happened, him dealing with his team and me dealing with KHI, too busy to address the real issues.  We’ve formed a partnership in racing that’s somehow eclipsed our marriage and I don’t think he’s even considered that it could--that it should--all fall apart. 

How am I supposed to continue to help run our team when there is no us?  How am I supposed to stand by and support him when it’s not my love he wants?  He still talks about plans for next year, expanding our Busch team, designing our new house…and I don’t understand.  If he wants to leave me, if he wants to be with someone else…

Why won’t he just leave?

I wipe the tears from my face as I walk over to sit down in one of the kitchen chairs, feeling my heart break anew as I remember how different it was last year.  Sniff softly and remember the devastation in his eyes when it was finally over and he missed the first ever “Chase for the Cup.”  He was on the outside looking in, by no fault of his own, and it crushed him in a way I’d never seen before.  Bad luck and weak equipment cheated him out of his dream and for the rest of the season he was forgotten by the world…but not by me.

It was so different a year ago when he barely made it to the coach before crumbling before my eyes.  The stress was just too much, the pressure too heavy and he practically collapsed in my arms softly cursing his car, his team and even God as he fell apart.  I look over to the empty couch and remember holding him, wiping away tears he’d never admit to as he cried out his frustrations.  I just held him and soothed him softly and we made it through…together.

But not anymore.

My breath catches in my throat as the tears flow more freely and I reach out to pick up his discarded hat.  Run my thumbs over the bill as I gaze at the red on black 29 and the fancy embroidered signature that doesn’t even resemble his actual scrawl.  Trace my fingers over our logo, the flaming happy face with the devious little wink, and I remember how he won me over with that amazing smile of his…how he won us all over.

A small smile crosses my lips when I remember how things all began a little over five years ago.  He was a brash, young California boy who’d just signed to drive Childress’ Busch car and wouldn’t take no for an answer.  I still don’t think that word is part of his vocabulary.  He just walked in and swept me off my feet with sparkling green eyes and a sarcastic sense of humor I’ve never been able to resist.  He captivated me, completely putting me under his spell until I couldn’t get him out of my mind, or out of my dreams.

He still haunts my dreams.

I look down at his hat again and suddenly crush it to my chest needing something--anything--of his near me.  Suck in another choked gasp as I see him in my mind, not the way he was last year, but the way he was then. 

It’s no wonder they gave him the nickname “Happy” in those years because that’s how he was…how we both were.  I remember his brilliant smile and his sarcastic smirk, both of which could steal your heart and melt your anger even before you knew what was happening.  He really can be so infuriating and charming all at the same time and I’ve never known anyone like him.  I think that’s how he stole my heart with me even realizing it.  I just woke up one day and knew that I loved him.

And I still do.

He just has this…way of making you smile even when you want to wring his neck.  I swear it’s like there’s a brilliant light inside him that’s so…amazingly blinding it outshines the teasing and the sarcasm and makes you love him even when he drives you crazy.  It’s like basking in the sun when you’re with him, so warm and inviting but if you get too close…he can burn you in an instant.  His smile could easily melt the iciest heart and those eyes…those beautiful green eyes…

And they can see straight through me.

I wrap my arms tighter around myself as I squeeze my eyes shut, part of me wishing more than anything that he’d walk through the door.  I swear I can almost hear the latch, hear the door slide shut and his footsteps as he crosses the small space over to me.  It’s like I can feel his arms slide around me and his voice in my ear, whispering my name so soft…almost reverently.  And I melt, just like I have so many times before.  Melt into his sensuous touch, tilting my head back against him except…

There’s no one here.

I think I’m losing my mind.

Push out of the chair suddenly and almost knock it over as his hat slips from numb fingers and falls to the floor.  I shuffle forward, arms wrapped tight around myself as I stare out the window again, and my life plays out before me like a tragic romance movie…one I know the ending to.  But still, I can’t stop the memories.

So much, we’ve been through so much together.  How can it all fall apart now?  So many things, so much pressure that it almost crushed us both, but it didn’t.  And I like to think I’m part of the reason.  He married me even as the world fell down around us and he was thrust into a legend’s car to try and fill the void.  And he did.  The world saw him slip into “The Man’s” car, seamlessly winning in only his third race and it all looked so easy.

But they never saw the toll it really took on him.  The eyes of the world never saw what running two series did to him, what it was like to drive the car of your idol so soon after his death.  They never knew the price that Busch championship cost us--cost him—as he traveled back and forth across the country in the span of a weekend, needed IV fluids to keep him going.  He was the one that helped fill the void…and I was the one who’s shoulder he cried on when it all became too much.

Sometimes he would rant and rave and scream until he was hoarse before he broke down as the pressure and frustration almost drove him mad.  And sometimes it was nightmares of inadequacy or even finding the same fate as the man who drove the car before him that terrified him more than he could even express.  And I was there.  I would take his hand and try to soothe him, or bear the brunt of his anger…whatever it took to help him through.

The world only saw the cracks he was unable to hide.  The feud with Biffle.  The rage at Ricky Rudd.  The times when he just couldn’t keep from running his mouth.  But through it all he still hid the weakness behind closed doors, confiding in only me.  And I would never reveal that to anyone in the world.  That’s the hold he still has on me…and probably always will.

As I stare into the night, I wonder if he confides his hopes and fears in Junior now.  I wonder if Dale can hold him, cool his anger and soothe away his fears the way I always have.  I wonder if one day they will dismantle everything Kevin and I have built and rebuild it as an empire that could only be rivaled by the biggest names in the sport.

And even as my heart breaks I know it’s not that simple.

This last year we’ve both been distant and short with each other.  I went my way, dealing with our Busch and Truck teams as he buried himself in a losing team that seems to have drowned us both.  I thought we were in this together, that all the time spent apart would bring us back together in the end, but it seems we’ve grown apart instead. 

My eyes widen slightly as I finally see movement in the dark night and I reach out, placing my hand flat on the cool glass.  I look out into the lot and the sparkling of my wedding band catches my eye even as I see them move through the shadows towards Junior’s coach.  I watch as they’re both smiling and leaning on each other in a way that good friends do…but I know it’s more than that.  I’ve seen it in his eyes, the way he looks at him…the way he used to look at me.

I drop my head, flash of diamonds catching my eyes again, and I try to tell myself he’s gone…but that’s not really true is it?  He’ll come back tomorrow, before or after the race I don’t know, but he’ll come back.  He’ll come back and we’ll fly home, but even though he’ll be with me…I’ll still be alone.

I’ve been alone for a long time now.

Feel the strong arms wrap around my waist and I glance down at the tender hands so very different from the ones I know so well.  Lean back against him and I feel his warm skin through the thin silk of my robe.  He nuzzles my neck, and I close my eyes, needing the comfort of his touch more than he probably even realizes.  Kevin and Junior weren’t the only ones left out last week.

“Let them be, DeLana,” he says softly in my ear.  “I’ll keep you warm tonight.”

I nod and turn in his arms, tilting my head as he brushes his lips across mine and I’m still surprised at the gentleness of his touch.

“Come back to bed with me,” he tells me as he turns deep, smoky blue eyes to mine and I can’t resist…don’t even want to.

I nod as I reach down and take his hand…Kevin and I always were too much alike.

Murmur softly to him, “After you, Jeff…”

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Catw00man - catw00man@cryptoffic.com