I was inlove.
I’d been dizzy with happiness, grinning constantly and I knew I was annoying people with my general excitement for life. So much excitement that not even a negative article on Nix staying in other hotels and slandering the lack of diversity inStormSprintcould bring me down. Since hiring his new manager, he was thriving.
At my side,Nazminsent a bony elbow into my ribs. “At least pretend to be listening,” she muttered from the corner of her lips.
I straightened my back and clicked my pen into action on the front of my notebook. After the press had let up over the investigative report,CiclatiandCiclatiSport meetings really had very little to do with me. I was trusted to get on with my job.
When the meeting was over, the racers andCrisdrove over from the offices to the track. It was only a twenty-minute drive but Nix had given me a long look, expecting me to ride with them. I would do anything for an excuse to sit beside him in a cramped car, thighs pressed together… butNazminwas going to join us. So it was Don, the director ofCiclati,Nazminand me.
Being a Portuguese brand, the races there were always sponsored and supported byCiclatito the fullest.
When Don’s phone went,Nazminand I abruptly stopped our conversation, looking out the windows, trying to give him privacy.
He was talking Portuguese — a language I had very little knowledge of — in hushed tones. Hushed, emotional tones.
There were long pauses where I glanced atNazmin. She wasstiff beside me, looking down at her hands in her lap, picking at her nails.
When she looked up at me, she had pulled her bottom lip into her mouth as tears filled her eyes.
And I knew.
I knew already what had happened before Don hung up and turned around in the passenger seat to talk to us. His words ghosted right over me. I didn’t need to hear them.
“Alv’snot going to make it,” he said, voice shaking as he pulled up another contact on his phone. “They’re going to turn off his life support tomorrow.”
At security, I was bouncing on my heels, eager to get to Nix. And, once I was through, I wasn’t waiting for the others, I wasn’t there. Not mentally or physically. I was rushing through the tunnels under the track, searching for Nix. He had to know.
And then he was there, his eyes red as he walked with purpose and a stiff jaw towards the pit boxes.
“Nix!” I shouted.
When he looked up and saw me, his mouth opened with a deep, broken inhale.
I ran, throwing myself at him in a hug. He wrapped me up in his arms, his head on my shoulder and he let out a heart-wrenching sob.
We didn’t need to speak. We both knew.
“I was looking for you,” he admitted, hoisting me up to wrap my legs around him. “I needed to be with you, I needed you to keep me calm.”
I pulled away to look at him and he bit his lip, tears welling in his eyes.
“It should have been me,” he croaked. “For all I did… Fuck. He’s got kids, he…”
“No,” I breathed, hands on his face, forcing him to look at me. “Don’t do this to yourself, Nix. It was an accident. It comes with the sport. It’s so rare, but—”
He rested his forehead against mine and sniffed. “I’ve been happy. I feel so guilty that I’ve been happy.”
I kissed his cheek and he pulled back my hair to kiss me on the mouth. I wanted to wrap him up in my love and take him far away from all of this.
“He was my best friend,” he said on a broken exhale. “My mentor— I — I know I have no right to that claim, but I—I haven’t even said goodbye.”
“We need to get you to France,” I said as I slipped down his body to stand.
His hands were in mine as he nodded.
“Let’s go and tellCris.”
He was dressed in his leathers, ready for qualifying, but nothing else about him was ready to get on the track.
