Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71396 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 357(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 238(@300wpm)
“Forget the reporters,” Nash says. “You’ve got the lap times. That’s what matters.”
Francesca tilts her head. “Still, I got asked yesterday if I’d wear makeup under my helmet.”
Carlos chokes on his drink. “Jesus. Did you tell them to fuck off?”
“I told them waterproof mascara,” she replies dryly. “In case I cry with joy when I beat them.”
We all laugh and I’m remembering just how refreshing she was when we were in FI2 together.
It’s good, this moment. Comfortable. The fire crackles between us, throwing warm light across the brushed steel of the pagoda’s supports. For a second, it’s as if the world has slowed down.
And still… I can’t help the flicker of longing in my chest. I wish Lara were here. I wish I could see her face across this fire, watch her roll her eyes at Carlos’s jokes or listen to her ask Francesca questions in that curious way she has.
My hand itches for my phone. But it’s not in my pocket—I’d tossed it in my locker earlier before suiting up and never grabbed it afterward.
Carlos stretches his legs out, balancing his beer on one knee. “You know, Accardi, if you podium in your first race, Nash is going to lose his mind.”
Nash grins, unfazed. “Not worried. She’s fast, but I’ve got seniority.”
Francesca arches a brow, her smile slow and dangerous. “And yet I was faster in the session.”
Carlos lets out a low whistle and tips his bottle toward her. “Savage.”
“I like her,” Nash says with a decided grin. “You’re the wild card this grid needed to wake it up.”
Francesca lifts a brow. “I’m not here to shake things up. I’m here to win.”
“You can do both,” Carlos says, raising his bottle in mock salute. “That’s what makes you great.”
We sip our beers, none of us willing to have more than one with qualifying tomorrow. Laughter rolls easily between us, a rare kind of quiet before the storm.
One of the Matterhorn junior engineers walks by, heading toward the staff trailers. He spots me and pauses. “Reid! They’re looking for you up at the garage.”
“Why? Is something wrong?”
He shrugs. “No clue. Just said to grab you if I saw you.”
I shoot Carlos a look. “Probably forgot to sign off on the tire sheets.”
Francesca laughs. “Probably forgot them because you were too busy perfecting your surfer smile for the cameras again.”
I grin as I stand and stretch. “Careful, Accardi. Keep that up and we’ll start thinking you like us.”
The paddock is mostly shut down as I make my way back toward the Matterhorn garage, leaving the warmth of camaraderie behind. Tomorrow, we’ll be opponents again.
Lights are low, the thrum of equipment quieting for the night. I jog up the stairs to the garage floor, expecting a clipboard and a missed signature.
Instead, I see her.
Lara.
Standing just inside the garage in one of my Matterhorn hoodies that’s a size too big, eyes wide and searching.
Time stutters.
She’s here.
Everything else—engine notes, tire strategy, lap deltas—fades. There’s only her.
I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m across the room, pulling her in close. Her arms slide around my waist, and she presses her face into my chest like she’s been homesick and I’m the only place she resides.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, dazzled by her eyes as she tips her head back and smiles.
“My place is by your side,” she says simply, and six words make everything right in my world. Every doubt, every ache dissipates and euphoria washes through me.
I lower my forehead to hers and whisper, “Welcome back.”
She doesn’t let go, not right away, and I don’t ask her to. I just breathe her in—her shampoo, the lingering scent of travel, the clean, warm weight of her against me.
After a moment, she pulls back and places a hand over my heart. “I talked to Lance.” My gut tightens but I don’t say anything. Don’t show any emotion. “He showed up yesterday at my house. Mum and Dad were out.”
My hands tighten around her waist. “He came to your house while you were alone?”
She nods and I have to suppress the rage building inside me. I remind myself that she’s here, she’s safe, and it appears she’s good with how things have turned out. “He looked awful. Like he hadn’t slept in days.” She pauses, then adds, “It looked like he was… unraveling.”
Fear joins the rage. “Jesus, Lara—”
“Everything’s fine,” she cuts in. “I was never afraid he’d really hurt me and most importantly… it’s done.”
My jaw clenches. I want to say I should have been there. But she’s here now. And she handled it.
Her expression saddens. “He’s convinced we were seeing each other behind his back.”
“He’s projecting,” I growl.
Lara nods. “Yeah… I know. I reiterated that we started after I left him. That it wasn’t about you taking me—it was about him losing me. I stood my ground, Reid. I didn’t back down once. I looked him in the eye and made sure he knew it was over. No wiggle room. No hope.”