Cocky Romance: Chapter 17

Nothing in this world compares to how fulfilled I feel while working on a car.

The smell of oil, engine fluid, and metal fills my nostrils like the sweetest fragrance. My scanner’s open on the table beside me, hooked up to the wireless module in the SUV. My hands are busy, and my heart is pounding with the excitement of solving a puzzle.

Man, this is where I belong.

“How’s it coming?” Clint asks, his eyes twinkling as he leans against the car lift. Since I’ve been busy working as the spokeswoman of Stinton Auto, Clint is delaying his retirement to oversee the shop and I really appreciate that.

I tap my earbuds to silence the music and pop my lollipop out of my mouth. “Good. This repair is a little tricky because the problem refuses to show itself when I need it to.” I scowl at the car. “But don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

“Those are the trickiest repairs, aren’t they?” He tilts his head. “Cars that hide what’s wrong when it’s time to fix them. That’s like going to a doctor and lying about where you’re feeling pain.”

“Except cars are inanimate objects. Therefore, they can’t intentionally hide the truth.”

“You have a point.” Clint chuckles, but the sound is heavy. His eyes dart away from mine.

I take my earbuds out and set them aside because it seems like he wants to talk. “Did you need something?”

“I’m clearing my desk today. Since I’m staying on longer, I figure I can tackle the paperwork piece by piece. There’s a lot to work out.”

I cringe, hoping that he’s not trying to get me to sort out files with him. It’s not that I don’t want to help Clint…

Okay, I don’t want to help Clint.

At least not right now when I’m so close to making a breakthrough.

He knows me too well and chuckles. “I’m not going to drag you away from your repair, Banner.”

My smile bounces back.

He studies me. “I’m glad to see that being a superstar hasn’t wiped out your love of auto repair completely.”

“That’s never going to happen.”

“Are you sure? The camera suits you.”

“Is that a compliment, Clint?”

He laughs, a bright red flush chasing across his pale cheeks. “I respect you as a mechanic, Banner. Wasn’t until I saw all those lights pointed at you that I remembered you were a female under all that brilliance.”

“Is… that still a compliment?”

His smile lacks its usual lightness.

I grab a rag and wipe my fingers on it. “Don’t worry. My heart will always be in the garage. The lights might seem pretty from far off, but they’re blinding up close. Working on a car without interruption suits me better. I look forward to getting back to a semblance of normal.”

Hills mentioned that my schedule will be slowing down from now on and I’m grateful for that. I’ve gotten used to the attention, but it’s been exhausting. Stinton Group dragged me back and forth, from one show and photoshoot to the next. It’s great that everyone’s excited about ladies in auto repair, but I’m over the glam and the fuss.

“Well, I’m glad you’re back.” Clint nods.

“It was weird not having me in the garage, right? I barely got to see you these past few weeks.”

He lifts a hand. “Oh, it’s fine. I don’t mind sharing you with your fans.”

I chuckle. It still feels weird that I have fans. My social media accounts got pumped with millions of followers overnight. It’s strange because I don’t even have much of an online presence. Instead, my fans have been slowly populating my ‘official fan account’ with the pictures I take at shows and magazine spreads.

“Actually, just last night, they uploaded a new picture of you.” He shows me his phone. It’s a hazy snapshot of Max and I climbing out of the car in front of Stinton Group.

My eyes widen. “When did they take that?”

“I don’t know.” He blinks rapidly. “People have been speculating about you two since the press conference.”

Heat brands my cheeks. “Because he stood up for me?”

Clint shrugs.

I tuck the stick of my lollipop above my ear and breathe deeply. Looking back, the press conference was Max’s first time saying ‘I love you’ to me. Actions speak louder than words, right? And by his actions that day, I felt that he was someone I could depend on. It’s when my heart started falling for him.

“The fans have an active imagination. We’re not even touching in that shot.” I nod to the picture.

“So the speculation is just that? Speculation?”

“Why do you look so serious, Clint? It’s not worth bringing up, is it?” I climb into the vehicle again and stomp on the brakes, testing if my diagnosis was accurate. “You’ve never cared about gossip before. Why are you so interested in me and Max Stinton now?”

“Because I’m confused.” Clint follows me to the window. “I’ve listened to you rant about Stinton Group so many times in the past. You were so sure they were a terrible company.” He rubs his chin. “Although I didn’t say anything at the time, I was surprised when you agreed to work with them.”

I listen to the rumble of the engine as I answer, “I hated Stinton Group because of one despicable deed they’d done. When I found out who was the true culprit, I realized that was where I should point all my hatred. It’s way too exhausting hating an entire company anyway.”

“That person you hate, is it… Max Stinton?”

“Of course not.” I pull my lips in to stop the giant grin from growing, but it’s too late. I’m smiling off into the distance with dreamy bliss. “Max is all bark and no—well, he has a bite, but he’s a softie underneath all those frigid stares.”

Clint stares at me with something close to worry.

I notice and sigh. “Hey, I’m not moving fast. I’m keeping my head screwed on straight about this. Trust me.”

“Banner, I think you should come and see this,” Clint says abruptly.

My foot flattens on the gas.

The car vrooms in protest.

I shake my head. “Can I come over later? I’m almost finished with this car.”

“Now, Dawn,” Clint says seriously.

I almost slam my face on the glass when I whip around. He’s never used that tone with me and he’s never used my first name either. Clint’s always been like a doting grandfather, following along with everything I say and babying me to the point of frustration. Whatever put that frightened look on his face…

A lump forms in my throat. “Clint, what’s wrong?”

He motions for me to get out of the car.

I walk behind him all the way to his office.

Clint closes the door firmly, picks up a binder and hands it over to me. The shattered expression on his face warns me that my world is about to fall apart.

I’m scared to find out if my intuition is right.

Scared to open this book.

Something deep inside is telling me to back away slowly.

“What is this?” I murmur.

“It was delivered to the garage for you an hour ago, but I didn’t tell you immediately. Ever since you started getting famous, I’ve been extra careful with all the things your fans send over. Some of the gifts are…” His eyebrows bunch, “disrespectful. I was always worried that you’d get something obscene and we’d have to involve the police. I didn’t want you or Beth to be intimidated.”

“Clint, I had no idea you were doing that.” I stare at him in stunned awe. It’s true that people have been sending gifts to the auto shop with my name on them. I’ve received some heartwarming letters about how I’ve inspired someone’s daughter to be an auto mechanic too. I was wondering why all the fans were being so respectful. I’ve seen some really disgusting comments online and wondered when someone would try to send me an equally irritating gift.

“I’m only telling you this to explain why I opened the mail, Dawn.” His eyes fall on the binder.

“Well? Is it like a dead rat or something?” I try to lighten the mood with a joke.

“No,” he croaks. “It’s… I think it’s much worse.”

My heart picks up speed.

Clint stares thoughtfully at the binder in my hands. “When I saw it, I considered not showing it to you. I wasn’t sure if it would only upset you more. Since you hated Stinton Group so much, I figured it wouldn’t make a difference if I hid the truth.”

“Clint.”

“But when I saw your eyes… you lit up when you were talking about Max Stinton and I can’t—”

“Clint, I’m dying of suspense. What’s in here? What ‘truth’ are you talking about?”

He swallows hard. “I’ll, uh, I’ll let you see for yourself.”

My heart is thumping like crazy.

Clint’s being weird and mysterious, two traits that are unlike him. I don’t understand what could possibly have put that shaken look on his face.

Fingers trembling, I open the binder and flip to the first page.

Terror slams against me the moment I recognize Max Stinton’s crab-like handwriting.

It thickens into mortification when I read the detailed report on the page.

“Oh my gosh.” I press a finger to my lips as I turn to another file.

Hope vanishes in a second, replaced with a desperate plea for this to be some kind of joke.

My eyes skim the page.

It’s not a joke.

The second document is exactly like the first, except the name and the details of payment are different.

“No, no, no.”

I shake my head. I don’t understand.

“Your name’s on the last page,” Clint says quietly.

I flip to the end and see it.

Dawn Banner.

There’s the date I met Trevor.

There’s the date I told Trevor I was pregnant.

It’s all there in black and white like a freaking hospital report.

I’m the only one with the line—‘did not agree to sign’.

“I’m sorry, Dawn,” Clint says softly.

I hardly hear what he’s saying.

Because I’m looking up and, through the glass pane, a man is rushing into the auto shop.

It’s Max.

He skids to a stop in front of Clint’s office, looking completely frantic. His hair is a mess like he ran his fingers through it incessantly on the way here, and there are stains of ink all over his fingers and forearms.

Wild-eyed and panicked, he takes a step toward me and then stops.

I stare at him as a deep, pulsing realization seeps through me.

“Banner?” Clint calls my name softly.

I had no idea.

He lied to me.

He looked me right in the face and he lied to me.

I love you, Dawn.

Did he lie about that too?

Max stumbles forward. In a few seconds, he’s in the office. His eyes lock on mine and though I’m standing across the room, it feels like he’s choking me. When he finally rips his gaze away and drops it to the stack of papers I’m gripping in my trembling hands, he sucks in a sharp breath.

I can’t move.

The sight of him cuts me to my very soul.

“Dawn… Dawn.” He curses. “I can explain.”

Clint walks up to Stinton and puts a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t think now is the right time.”

Max shakes him off. “Dawn, I wanted to tell you.”

If he’d told me that it was a cruel trick set up by Trevor, I would have believed him. I would have believed anything because I so badly wanted to trust him.

But in an instant, the rose-tinted glasses are ripped from my eyes.

I see everything from Max’s perspective. See my stupidity as I kissed him under the stars. See my foolish hope when I asked if he sent the lawyers and the relief I felt when he told me he didn’t. See the way he must have smirked and laughed when he realized that I was throwing my heart at him like a fan would throw her bra at her favorite artist on stage.

My mind is spiraling, slanting down into a chasm of pain and regret. A black hole that threatens to open up and swallow me, ripping apart the fabric of my heart, my soul, my everything.

Disgust smothers me.

Reality coats me in a mess of shame.

I should never have given my heart to Max Stinton of all people.

I should never have been so stupid.

Max makes a sound in his throat. It’s so intense and broken that it shakes me out of my own panic for a second. I glance up and realize that the pain chewing me alive seems to be crushing him too. His face is lined with stress and regret.

It’s too late for that.

Nothing matters.

His blue eyes are unrecognizable to me. I don’t know this man.

No, that’s wrong.

My father used to tell me: ‘when someone shows you who they are, believe them.’

This is the real Max Stinton.

I do know this man.

I just tried to convince myself he was someone else. I lied to myself because my heart desperately wanted to believe that he was good. That he wasn’t tainted in the darkness of Stinton Group. That he was above it all.

My fingers curl into the papers until they’re crushed.

I don’t think I can survive this.

My pulse is pounding to a crazed rhythm.

Joy vanishes like the morning fog, all the hope and love I had building in my chest, gone in an instant.

I feel like I’m being skinned alive.

“You liar,” I whisper.

Max flinches like I slammed him with a hammer.

I hear something shatter.

It’s my heart.

Nothing will ever be the same.

Not my career. Not my life. Not my future.

Max’s chest swells. “Dawn, I was going to tell you—”

“Shut up,” I hiss. The voice that rips out of my chest doesn’t sound like mine. It doesn’t even sound human.

I’m paralyzed, but the world is spinning. It feels like I’m getting battered around in a wrestling ring. I’m surprised my body is still upright.

Max’s face is turning red with—frustration? Annoyance that he got caught? I don’t know. I’m too splintered inside to care about him right now.

Releasing my fingers, I watch the documents float to the ground. They look so harmless. Those lines. Those words. With a few easy strokes of a pen, he stormed into the lives of innocent women. He pressured them at their weakest moments. Inserted himself into a decision that wasn’t his to make.

I always knew he was a monster.

But along the way I convinced myself that I was seeing something softer, something more humane in the darkness. Stupid.

I stalk past Clint, who’s standing motionless in front of Max.

Then I storm past Max too.

When I try to get to the door, Max cuts into my path. “Dawn, I know how this looks, but I swear to you that I was a different man then. If I had to do it over, I wouldn’t have made the same choices.”

“Get out of my way.”

“Dawn.”

I drag my eyes to his, my face hardening like a stone. “Get the hell out of my way!”

His chest pumps up and down.

He doesn’t move at first and I feel like screaming my head off. I feel like throwing punches at his handsome face. I feel like hog-tying him and stuffing those documents into his mouth until my heart stops bleeding. Anything but let the tears of disgust, rage, and heartbreak slip down my cheeks.

My eyes crash into his with the ferocity of a hurricane. “You played with me. You lied to me. You said all those sweet things about Beth when, eight years ago, your only mission in life was making sure she never saw the light of day.”

“Dawn.”

I fling my hands at him, ready to slap his face.

He stays still and braces himself for it.

Clint grabs me. Thick fingers wrap around my wrist and yank me back.

I lunge at Max anyway, not caring how ridiculous I look. All I can do is feel the outrage thrumming through my veins. It consumes me. It makes everything else in the world look fuzzy and dim.

“Was it fun playing around with me, Stinton?” My voice is rising with the same heat and fever as my pain. “Did you enjoy turning me into a fool, you bastard?”

“Dawn—”

“Let me go, Clint.” I turn to the man holding me back.

His eyes train on me, filled with worry.

“I said let me go. I won’t hit him.”

Clint’s fingers release me slowly.

“It’s okay.” Max steps forward. “You can go ahead and hit me. You can do whatever you want to me, Dawn. I deserve it.”

He deserves to get the ever-living-daylights kicked out of him.

I want to explode.

I want to tell him how much he hurt me.

I want him to deny it and point to those papers and laugh about how I’m being ridiculous. Tell me that he would never do those things, say those things—as if women are cattle that he can manipulate and buy off for his own gain.

But I can’t move my mouth.

I can’t speak.

And I can’t stop the tears that are still pressing in the back of my eyes.

Max clenches his jaw.

Looking at him is painful. I stalk past the man I was falling in love with and head out of Clint’s office, noting the other mechanics who are deathly silent in the mechanic bay. They must have seen the commotion through the glass pane. Maybe they heard it too.

Humiliation burns my cheeks.

Max’s footsteps clop toward me and then I hear Clint’s low voice. A glance over my shoulder reveals Clint holding Max back. He could easily brush Clint off like he did in the office but, this time, he allows the old man to keep him away. His blue eyes are creased to near slits. His lips are a tense, thin line.

I can’t believe I fell in love with this man.

This monster.

Pain cuts like a knife through my stomach.

I allow myself to feel it.

I’m not going to shy away from this agony.

I was so eager to run to him. To fall for him. The same way I embraced Max Stinton in my foolish eagerness is the same way I’ll embrace the truth.

It’s a fitting punishment.

A beautiful death sentence.

I hurl myself into my car and listen to the engine rumble to life.

My fingers curl over the steering wheel and a heart wrenching sob rips out of me. I squeeze my eyes shut and let the mass of rage, hurt, heartbreak and humiliation barrel into a heated stew in my gut.

Bastard.

Monster.

Jerk.

Liar.

I gasp out loud, feeling the tears running down my cheeks only barely. The scraping of my heart as it’s being beaten with a stick hurts far more.

I’ve never experienced anything like this before.

Not even when my dad died.

I’m suffering.

I want to crawl into a hole and let someone bury me.

It’s my fault.

I let the pain consume me, accepting the punishment for falling in love with the cruel prince of Stinton Group.

My phone rings at that moment.

I want to ignore it, but I fish it out of my purse and put it to my ear. “Hello?”

“Hi, Dawn baby.”

Mama Moira’s voice breaks what little restraint I had left. My tears flow faster and faster. I gasp, sputter, choke. Break down with such loud, devastating wails that Mama Moira sounds frantic.

“Dawn? Dawn baby, what’s wrong? Do you need me to call the police?”

“N-no.”

“Can you drive? You shouldn’t drive. Where are you? Let me come to you.”

I spot Max stepping out of the garage.

His eyes are on my truck.

I sniff. “No, let me come to you.”

Max’s gaze is so splintered, so far removed from his usual cool and frosty mask, that I want to reach out and touch him.

Even after seeing the evidence of who he is, of what he’s done, I still want to go to him.

I must be off in the head.

Yanking on the stick shift, I back the car out of the parking lot so fast that rocks fly up under my tires and then I fly into the street.

Mama Moira isn’t the only woman at the farmhouse. Sunny and Kenya are there too. They were best friends before I met them and it shows when they both rise to their feet, wearing identical expressions of worry.

I stop short when I see them.

Mama Moira pulses forward. She’s a short, plump woman with tan skin and long black hair. She’s wearing a floral skirt and an embroidered blouse that I get to see up-close as she wordlessly drags me into a hug.

I fall into her and come apart all over again.

It’s crazy.

I thought I was all cried out in front of the garage. It’s like having a mother’s touch flips a switch inside me. Maybe it’s because I didn’t have a mom growing up, so I didn’t get to build a defense against it. I’ve always been strong. Always thought I could do it on my own.

Mama Moira’s gentleness and care just yanks the hurt out of me. Unravels me until I can’t do anything but sink into her comfort.

The feel of two more arms wrapping around me prompts me to look up.

Kenya and Sunny are hugging me on either side.

Like an idiot, I start bawling harder.

It’s like a faucet that’s been turned on inside me. It keeps pouring until it becomes an avalanche of regret and hurt, swirling in a mixture of intense humiliation.

I keep replaying that moment eight years ago. How frantic I felt when I found out I was pregnant. The desperate hunt to find the man I’d made that stupid mistake with. The way Trevor answered the call so cheerfully when I first connected with him. The hesitation and finally, the utter distaste he showed me when I told him I was pregnant.

I think of the panic I felt as I tried to get used to the idea of becoming a single mother. I’d been terrified, but I also knew that I wanted my baby to have a chance. I wanted her to experience the world with me. I wanted to tell her about my dad and find comfort in the fact that someone would live on beyond me and keep his memory alive even when I was gone.

In that chaotic whirlwind of uncertainty and loneliness, Max Stinton sent lawyers to manipulate me. Sure, he wasn’t the one who showed up at my door with a cracked smile and a briefcase. He wasn’t the one who walked into my home, sat me down in the living room and shoved a piece of paper at me. He wasn’t the one who rattled off a number with too many zeroes and told me that all this could be mine if I only agreed to cut all ties with Stinton Group and with the child growing in my stomach.

But it was Max.

He sent his dogs at me. He gave the command.

It was his order and he was proud of it. He was more interested in cleaning up after his brother, in protecting Stinton Group, than he was in morals, integrity, or being a decent human being.

I fell in love with him even though I knew there was a possibility he’d been a part of that. And the moment he told me he wasn’t, I latched on to it blindly. Asked no questions. Accepted it—and him—as if the world would end if I didn’t.

I made a fool of myself.

My heart is heavy and I can’t move past that fact.

It’s brutal, but I have to face it.

I don’t have a choice.

“I…” I try to find the words to confess my stupidity to them. There are so many words in the English language and yet I can’t think of a single one. My eyelashes are heavy with my tears and I’m hopelessly battered by another wave of sobs. “I…”

“You don’t have to talk,” Mama Moira says. She pats my back, her tone sweet and gentle. “You don’t have to say anything, Dawn. You can just sit down and catch your breath.”

“I’ll get her some water,” Kenya says, her dark face creased in concern. She darts away to the fridge and returns a second later with a glass.

My hands are shaking so hard I can’t even take it. To be honest, I can’t even see the cup to accept it. My face feels like a pufferfish. My eyes are so bloated I can’t open them past slits.

Sunny leads me to the couch and sits down with me, Mama Moira right on her heels. She doesn’t ask me why I’m bawling as if I’m having a personal apocalypse. She doesn’t ask me why I’m acting like we’re all gonna die tomorrow. She just wraps her arms around my shoulders and stays close.

Mama Moira sits on my other side. She pins me with dark eyes that look exactly like Sunny’s. We’ve never really gotten personal. Mama Moira’s just been around to help Sunny with her wedding. I’ve tasted her amazing fry jacks and the other Belizean dishes she makes. I’ve seen her fuss at Belle—Kenya’s daughter, Bailey and Micheal. She’s even gotten fussy at Beth too, something my daughter never got to experience from a grandmother before.

I know those capable hands of hers can roll tortillas like nobody’s business and can sew a blouse with the intensity of a contestant on Project Runway, but I didn’t know they could offer such comfort.

She pats my shoulder. “I called Sunny because I wanted to check if there was anything wrong with Elizabeth. You scared the Mayan out of me when I heard you bawling and I needed to know for myself.” Mama Moira blinks slowly. “Sunny started asking me what was wrong and I told her you seemed to be upset. She came over right away.”

“I was here already.” Kenya leans toward me. “I hope you don’t mind, but I can leave if you’d like.”

“No.” I shake my head. “It’s fine.”

Sunny continues to rub my back. “I’ll tell Darrel to pick up the boys and Beth today.”

“And I’ll tell Alistair to invite them over for a play date,” Kenya adds. “Belle will love to have her cousins over.”

Sunny strokes my hair. “Mrs. Hansley’s on her day-off so the men will have babysitting duty.”

I blink rapidly. “I can pull myself back together in time—”

“You don’t have to,” Mama Moira coos. “Dawn baby, you don’t have to be so strong all the time. It’s great that you can, but it’s terrible when you have to. There’s three of us and one of you. We can handle your pain, your anger. That’s what family is for.” She thumps her chest. “You get to unbuckle those burdens when they’re too heavy and you get to share them.”

I shake my head because I don’t deserve their tenderness and understanding. “I feel like an idiot.”

“As if we all don’t make questionable decisions in our lives?” Kenya asks, arching an eyebrow.

“Ask Darrel what I did to him in high school. Pure movie-villain move.” Sunny shudders. “We all have things we regret.”

“No, this is different.” My words choke in my throat.

Thinking of those documents makes my eyes sting and my vision turns blurry again.

The brown and black faces of these amazing women run together into messy, chaotic colors like spilled paint.

“I knew I was making a mistake.” My throat is knotted. “I should have never gotten involved with Stinton Group. With Max. He… he’s not the man I thought he was.”

What if he is? What if he can explain?

I shake that voice free.

It’s so wrong that I still want to defend him. To find reasons to forgive him.

His darkness spilled over into my life like the night sky murdering the sun, and now the lines between right and wrong are blurring as I fight to find a reason to keep him around.

“Oh.” Mama Moira makes a sound deep in her throat. “You poor thing.”

“Max?” Sunny blinks. “Max Stinton. You and Max Stinton were—”

“Sunny.” Kenya stops her.

I blink and force a smile to balance out my trembling lips. “I let my guard down around him.” To the point that I let him dangerously close to my heart. So close that the truth has absolutely demolished me. “Would you believe it if I told you I fell in love with a monster?”

The women glance at each other.

Then Mama Moira leans forward. “Alright, Dawn baby. You go ahead and tell us everything.”