“What,” I say, flatly.
“I don’t want to pry—”
“Then don’t.”
Matty drums his fingers on the table, watching me. The silence stretches out until my palms start to prickle.
“I wasn’t dating Antony Costa,” I say finally.
He nods slowly. “Okay.”
Just as he takes a breath to speak again, Brian reappears and pushes some noxious-looking green drink toward me.
“Let’s go,” he says, without looking up from his phone.
For the next hour, I’m stuck listening to Brian brag about his diet while I do some strength training. Every time I think about the article, I go cold all over. For all that Matty called it a garbage tabloid, some of it hit disturbingly close to the truth. They mentioned my poor performance in the race after the crash, called out my crappy migraine excuse the week after... they even had a picture of my stormy face from yesterday’s moment of silence, and quoted some nurse who saw me helping Antony’s mom carry food up from her car.
It’s all so insane. A full year of worrying someone will find out what’s been going on with me and Jacob, and now this.
About five minutes before the race, just as I’m about to get into my car, Brian grabs my arm.
“There’s some French chick on the phone for you,” he says, waving my cell phone at me. “Iness or something. Sounds hot.”
For a moment, I stare at him blankly. My first thought is that he really shouldn’t be answering my fucking phone. My second thought is that it’s some reporter trying to get information after that stupid article. Then something clicks into place.
“Ines Martin?”
Brian shrugs. “Yeah, maybe.”
I almost trip as I scramble out of the car and snatch the phone from him. My race engineer, Freddie, gives me an incredulous look as I sprint past him into the hallway.
“Hello?” I say. My hands are shaking, and my heart is thundering in my ears.
“Oui, Travis? C’est Ines Martin.”
“Yes, hi,” I say urgently. “Is everything okay?”
“I am sorry to be disturbing you, I only wanted to give you good news,” she says. I press the phone harder to my ear, my pulse doubling. “Jacob’s breathing tests went very well today. Dr. Kajetanowicz thinks of removing the breathing tube tonight.”
“Tonight?” My voice breaks on the word. “Does that mean he might be awake tonight?”
“Keeping!” Freddie appears around the corner, giving me an impatient glare. I wave him away. The race is nothing compared to this.
“Oui, maybe,” she says. “I thought you would like to know.”
“Yes, thank you,” I breathe. “I’ll try to get there.”
“Keeping!” Freddie roars.
“I’ve got to run, thanks,” I say quickly, then hang up, chuck my phone to one of the engineers, and hop into the car about half a second before I’m waved out onto the pit lane.
For the entire formation lap, I keep breaking out into stupid, nervous laughter. I feel lightheaded with hope, almost drunk with it.
Jacob might be awake tonight.
It feels dangerous to hope, especially after Antony, but I can’t help it. Ines has never given me hope before. That means it must be real.
I’m grinning as the starting lights turn on, one after another. In the second before they go out, I take a deep breath and let it out. When I see Jacob tonight, I don’t want him to think I’ve been falling apart. I want to have something positive to tell him, something to make him smile.
