Free Racing Outside the Line: A Love Story at 190 Mph by Kimberly Montague Page B

sad.
    Trying to keep him talking, I asked, "What makes it difficult?"
    He didn’t say anything, just looked at me with that same, you’re-a-moron look I had given him earlier.
    "Oh," I breathed, mimicking his response.
    I guess that was a good answer. I was interrupting the love he felt for Alexandria, but it made me feel guilty. I wanted to hurt him, but yet I didn’t want him to be in pain. I wanted him to love me, and yet, I still felt horrible that he was having a difficult time loving another woman. I was a massive walking contradiction.
    Why couldn’t I be mean? Why couldn’t I screw up his life and be proud of it? Why did I have to stick around when my only real course of action was to cause myself more pain? Talk about masochistic.
    What kind of life was I fooling myself into believing I was leading here? Chelsea would not be proud of what I was doing here. I should leave. I should go back to California and stay with Chelsea for awhile. Maybe I could start working again, and get an actual life, instead of this half-life I was living here.
    I closed my eyes trying to shut out my senses, to escape my need to be with him. I needed to give up on Seth. I had to bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling. I had to get over Seth. I had to wrap my arms around my chest to hold in the pain. When I felt a tear slip down my cheek, I knew I was losing my grip and had to get away from him. I stood up shakily. Seth got up quickly and helped me, which only made matters worse. What I wouldn’t do to be in his arms right now, to have it be okay to jump into his arms. The pain in my chest was burning into my lungs making it unbearable to breathe. I kept my eyes focused on the ground, not wanting to let him look me in the eye. He tried to lift my chin up, but I squeezed my eyes shut even harder and broke free of his grasp. I turned and walked back toward the house.
    "Lex," it sounded like another apology… another apology that I just couldn’t take, couldn’t hear, and couldn’t let myself hope to hear. I started jogging, and then running. The tears fell faster as I ran into the house. I took the stairs two at a time, sobbing quietly now. I went up to my room and started packing. I didn’t just throw things in, I remained calm the whole time despite my broken, bleeding, burning heartache. That run had burned off the last of my energy, and I was left with the hole in my chest and the need to pack.
    By the time I had finished packing enough clothes to stay a while with Chelsea, the tears had stopped. I washed my face and pulled on a comfortable nightgown. Lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, I thought about my own stupidity. I let myself get into this situation, hell, I purposefully put myself into this situation. I should have listened to Chelsea in the first place. It was worse now than if I had just stayed in California to begin with. Running away now, meant that I would never be able to come back here and have a life. It would always be this hard except, years from now, he would already be married, living with his wife, perhaps even have children with her. Seth’s children with another woman… the image in my head made me tighten in pain.
    I couldn’t think about the number one thing I would miss here because it would continue to keep me huddled in a tiny ball trying to control the pain emanating from my chest. But number two on my list, the weather… that was a safe topic of thought. I would see no more hot, humid summers, no more sticky sunbathing or feeling as if the heat completely encompassed me, and no more thunderstorms. As if my own thoughts were linked to the weather, a bolt of lightning flashed across my closed eyes. At least I could enjoy one last storm. I got up and walked to the French doors that led to the wrap-around balcony. It felt so nice, the misty droplets of rain on my skin mixed with the warm sticky night air. I leaned against the railing and closed my eyes, waiting to hear the deep, unending