A/N: I had an idea for another LoVe story even though I'm working on my other one. I decided to write both, which may not be a great idea, but we'll see how it goes. I hope to be able to keep both on a weekly update schedule, but even if not weekly, they shouldn't be too far apart. This one won't be as long, and will have much shorter chapters, so I think it will be manageable.

Disclaimer: All Characters still belong to Rob Thomas

Chapter 1

Billy Deimos looked cautiously around the room as he entered the bar at the hotel. He was relieved there weren't any press parasites around. They normally only flocked to the sponsor hotel, however there were several times that he'd had to avoid them at his hotel as well. He was happy to see that Adriano was tending bar tonight. You'd think after all these years living in Brazil he'd have gotten fluent at Portuguese, but unfortunately he hadn't. Adriano spoke a fair amount of English, so he could actually have a decent conversation on nights that he felt like being social, however tonight wasn't really one of those nights. He appreciated the fact that typically Adriano picked up quickly whether or not he was up for chatting.

Billy walked over to the seat at the farthest end of the bar where he typically sat on those nights that he just wanted to drink and not have to deal with people. Adriano nodded to him and grabbed a new bottle of Glenlivet scotch for him and walked down to where he'd taken a seat. He put a glass in front of Billy and gave him a grim smile as he poured the scotch.

"I caught the race on the TV," Adriano said a bit cautiously. "Congratulations on second place."

Billy silently nodded his thanks, tossed 1000 Real on the bar and took a long drink of the scotch. Adriano took the hint and walked back to the other end of the bar to take orders from another couple that had just come in.

Fucking second place. Billy slammed the glass down a bit harder than he had meant to. He let out a frustrated breath and spun the glass slowly on the bar. The amber liquid sloshed around in the crystal glass and he watched it slowly settle once he stopped moving the glass. He picked it up again and took another drink, feeling the burn as the scotch went down his throat. Some days he wondered why he even bothered to keep racing. Of course he knew it was because he loved the adrenaline rush and for the most part it kept him sober. If only Demétrio Vásquez wasn't part of the equation. The other racers had warned him about Demétrio when he first came back to Sao Paulo, but he blew it off and the guy was such a fucking asshole he was more than happy to take him down a notch by beating him… once. Then the next race he had a mysterious malfunction that put him in the hospital for over a month, in a medically induced coma for a portion of that time to get over the worst of the burns, and then it took several more months before he was able to get behind the wheel again. He was thankful he didn't have sponsors to worry about, because they certainly wouldn't have waited around that long for a driver to get back on his feet. He knew Demétrio had something to do with the tire blowing at the worst possible time, but there was no way to prove it. The other racers had said Demétrio had tight connections with organized crime families, but he'd never backed down from anyone before, and wasn't planning to start… at least not then. After the accident he decided he'd just settle for second place, but some days he could barely live with himself for it.

He was staring down at the glass again when he sensed someone had walked up behind him. He could tell by the scent of her perfume who it was before he even turned to look at her. He let out a deep sigh and took another drink of the scotch, finishing off the glass. She reached around him and grabbed the bottle and refilled his glass for him. He finally turned and looked into her eyes. He couldn't remember when looking in those eyes had started to cause him pain instead of joy and the look reflected back at him seemed to be the same. Some where along the way he'd hurt her too badly to fix it, and as much as it had killed him, he could never seem to give her what she needed… what she deserved. He picked up the glass and held it up for her. She gave him a sad smile and took it from him and took a drink. She closed her eyes momentarily as she swallowed the scotch and then looked intently at him again, handing the glass back to him.

"Second place, Billy?" she asked in that tone he hated. That tone that expressed all the disappointment she felt for him now. "We both know you should have been first."

"And we both know why I couldn't be," he snapped back a bit more tersely than she deserved.

She sighed and looked at him sadly and then reached down and ran her left hand gently from his knee up his thigh. Most of the burns from the accident had healed by the time he was out of the hospital, but the scar on his thigh where he'd been burned the worst, was still there. He grabbed her hand and held it up, the diamond ring on her hand sparkling softly in the low lights of the bar. He sat there just staring at her hand for a few minutes.

He thought back to the last time he'd held her hand before the ring was there. It was shortly after he'd finally been released from the hospital. She'd come to check on him, to be sure he was really doing alright after what had happened. When he'd opened the door and saw her standing there that night, he couldn't help himself. She'd barely walked through the door before he had her pressed against the wall. The near death experience and seeing her again, flooded him with emotions he hadn't felt in a very long time. She must have been thankful that he hadn't died because she seemed to want him as urgently as he wanted her. He still remembers the expression on her face when she'd seen the scar on his thigh and can also remember her lips softly placing kisses along it. In the morning she'd told him she was sorry and that she'd finally decided to accept Alex's marriage proposal. She'd come to check on him and let him know, but then let herself get caught up in the moment. He remembered the tears in her eyes as she kissed him softly on the lips one more time and then walked away.

"I miss you," she said softly bringing him back to the present.

"No you don't," he replied abruptly.

"I miss what we use to have," she replied a bit wistfully.

He nodded in agreement. "It's better that you're with him," he quickly replied, hoping it was convincing enough that they'd both believe it.

She sighed and pulled her hand away. She tried to smile, but he could see through it. "Are you coming to the party tonight?" she asked as she kept her eyes locked on his.

He shrugged, before he nodded slowly. "Probably," he answered almost regrettably.

"Maybe I'll see you there," she said with a bit of hopefulness in her voice.

He nodded again, though he knew even if they did run into each other at the party, they would act as they always did. They'd give each other a quick smile, then immediately move to the other side of the room. "You'd better go. I'm sure he's wondering why you aren't over there already."

She nodded and leaned in and kissed his cheek. "Take care of your self," she said and turned and walked out of the bar.

He reached down and picked up his drink again, quickly downing the rest of the glass. He rested his elbows on the bar and rested his head against his hands. He had been sitting there for a few minutes staring at the bar when he sensed someone else had walked up behind him. He took a deep breath before he picked up his head to see who it was. There was something familiar about the scent that he inhaled. He immediately tensed up as he remembered the last time he'd smelled that perfume.

"Logan?"

Marshmallows and Promises.

A/N: I did want to say the story was going to be from only one POV, but didn't want to mention that at the beginning. Now you should know who's that will be.

I'd love to know what people think of this chapter when you read it! Was it evident when you started reading it, whose POV it really was?