I stare at him, though he still won’t quite meet my eyes. He’s got his hands clasped tightly in his lap, and he’s tapping one foot against the floor. I remember Jacob telling me once that his father doesn’t like confrontation. A bit of a pushover, he’d called him, though he’d backtracked quickly after he said it. When his father believed in something, he’d stand up for it, like the time some rich family tried to buy out Jacob’s seat in F3 for their own son.
Unfortunately, right now it seems the thing Jacob’s father believes is that I should stay the hell away from his son.
“The thing is,” he says haltingly. “The thing is, this is not about Jacob... experimenting. I know kids your age do all sorts of wild things.” His lips tighten in disapproval. “But if you keep hanging around here, acting like... how you’ve been acting, someone’s going to go to the press. And all of my son’s hard work, all of our sacrifices, it’ll all be for nothing. This will be his entire narrative. An eccentric chapter in a Formula 1 driver’s history. Not to mention all the backlash, all the bigotry he would face from the fans.”
“From the fans,” I repeat.
He frowns. “You’re a famous guy,” he says. “You’ve got plenty of money, plenty of options. You can find someone else.”
Blood is thumping in my ears. I can’t remember the last time I was this angry. Usually, when I lose my temper, I can’t think of what to say, but right now, the words rise straight to my lips.
“I don’t want someone else,” I say, staring hard at him, trying to force him to meet my gaze. “And Jacob isn’t some wild chapter in my history. We’ve been together for a year.”
He flinches backward at that, as if from a blow.
“I’m sorry that he didn’t tell you,” I say through my teeth, trying to remind myself that beneath all the bullshit he’s spewed, he may really believe he has Jacob’s best interests at heart. “And I’m sorry that you found out like this. But I’m not going to leave him. He doesn’twantme to leave him.” I throw an impatient hand toward the door to the unit, and he flinches again, like he’s remembering the way Jacob clung to me. “I don’t want to mess anything up for your family, or for him. I swear I don’t. But I’m not going to leave him.”
My heart is beating quickly, but I sit back in my chair with a surge of satisfaction. For once in my life, I’ve said exactly what I wanted to say, right when I needed to say it.
Jacob’s father finally looks at me. For what feels like an eternity, he stares at me with a cold expression. I wait for him to yell at me, or to admit defeat, but instead he does something that feels even worse.
Without a word, he stands up and walks away.
13
Intuitive as Hell
I leave Jacob’s family alone for almost two hours. I tell myself I’m being generous, giving them time alone with him, but really I just need the time to regroup. Now that I’ve had it out with Jacob’s father, I expect Paul and Lily will be next. I’m especially frightened of Paul. Not because of what he might try to do to me—I’m in way better shape than him, and if push came to shove, he wouldn’t stand a chance—but because I don’t want Jacob to know we’re fighting. I don’t want to make him look the way he did before, when Paul and Lily were snapping at me. So panicked, so confused. Like Dr. K said, he needs calm right now.
I make my way to the hospital cafeteria and buy a coffee and one of the French granola bars Dr. Martin always brings me. I find a table hidden away in a corner and pull out my phone. There are six missed calls and two messages from Brian:Bro, Harper just fucking fired me, WTF!!!!Then,Call me now, you need to sort this shit out!!
I delete both of them, then block his number for good measure. Next is a text from Connor, Harper’s travel coordinator:Stefantold me you’ll be unavailable for a few days. Please call if you need anything.
Then, the last one, from Matty, who must’ve noticed my absence at today’s team meetings:Shit man, are you sick again?
I stare at it for about ten minutes and then slowly start to type.
Not sick. Back in France. Dating Jacob Nichols.
I stare at my own words for another ten minutes before I hit Send. I’m tempted to add something likeFeel free to delete me from your phone now, but that would be too pathetic. I probably shouldn’t be telling him the truth, but I’m just so sick of lying. Stefan knows. Jacob’s family knows. Matty might as well know, too.
I don’t expect him to answer straightaway—or at all—so I’m stunned when three dots appear. He’s read it. He’s typing something. The coffee I drank turns to battery acid in my stomach as I wait for the words to appear. A few seconds later, the dots disappear, and with them, my hope that Matty might react well.
But then my phone rings.
“Dude!” Matty’s loud voice echoes through the phone the moment I answer it. “My girlfriend owes me fifty bucks.”
“What?” I say hoarsely.
He laughs—actuallylaughs—and the knot in my chest loosens by a fraction. “Last week I bet her fifty bucks you were dating Nichols. She thought I was nuts. But I told her, I said, babe, listen to me, I’m intuitive as hell.”
“Matty...” I start uncertainly.
“So, how’s he doing?” he interrupts.
I swallow hard and try again. “Matty, look—”
“Oh, fuck off, Keeping,” he says. “I don’t give a shit that you’re dating a guy. My older brother is gay. Which you’d know, by the way, if you ever talked to anyone on our team.”
