I raked my hands through my hair. “No, they aren’t!”
“They are,” he said. “Why wouldn’t they?”
“Because I’m only third in the championship.”
“You’re only third because you’ve had appalling luck all season. Everyone knows that. Otherwise, you’d be leading by a mile.”
“No, it’s probably nothing,” I said. “They’re probably meeting with hundreds of drivers.”
He looked amused. “They’re going to ask you to be their reserve driver,” he said again.
I fell onto the bed, grinning stupidly. I remember being so, so happy in that moment.
“This is awesome,” Travis said.
I turned my grin toward him. “You won’t be saying that when Mahoney retires and I take his place. I’m going to kick your ass every weekend.”
Travis smiled. “You probably will.”
I rolled my eyes, still smiling. “You’re so cheesy.”
“Mm.” His fingers curled around my wrist. “It would be cool if you were in F1.”
I shifted onto my side so I could face him. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” His arm snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. “We could see each other more.”
Normally, I would’ve ignored a comment like that. Pretended not to hear or changed the subject. But right then, it didn’t bother me quite as much. If we were both in F1, it would be different. I could see him more, and it wouldn’t be suspicious. Plenty of F1 drivers hung out outside of racing. And Crosswire Racing was the biggest team in the sport. They would have a huge press team tomake sure that nothing got out about me that they hadn’t approved.
And then, once I won a few races, and maybe a championship or two... once I had a long, successful career full of concrete accomplishments, who knows? Maybe I could be with Travis properly, years and years down the road, after we both retired from racing. It would still be a scandal if it got out, but no one would be able to take away anything we’d done. And no one would really be interested in two retired drivers for that long. It would be a flash in a pan, a brief flurry of media attention that would settle down quickly, and then Travis and I could travel around or something, doing whatever we wanted. We could get a place somewhere awesome and remote, like in the mountains somewhere, and every night, it would be just like this. Lying in bed with his arm pulling me closer, and his fingers digging into my skin.
They’re going to ask you to be their reserve driver.He sounded so sure of it.
But the meeting ended up getting pushed a few weeks, and then I got in the crash. So I guess I’ll never know if he was right.
I take a shaky breath. A year ago, I was in bed with Travis, thinking I was going to be Crosswire Racing’s reserve driver. Now, I’m lying on the ground in an empty lot in the middle of winter, alone and almost crying, practically.
Slowly, I climb to my feet. I definitely feel worse than when I started this stupid little thought experiment.
I’m going to tell Amanda that at my next session.
24
Plans
“It wasn’t supposed to make you feel better,” Amanda says.
She sounds amused. This session is actually going a little better so far. She asked me about my family when I first sat down, and it was much easier to complain about them than to talk about Travis. But now we’re back on the topic. Travis, and racing, and how Ifeelabout it all.
“What was it supposed to do, then?” I say tetchily.
“It was supposed to make you reflect on your relationship with him, and how you feel seeing him win the championship without you.”
“Well, mission accomplished,” I say. “I’ve reflected, and I feel shitty. What’s next?”
She chuckles. “This isn’t a checklist, Jacob. Therapy isn’t like a video game, where you beat all the levels until you win.”
“Good lord.” I roll my eyes. “Did you make that shit up yourself?”
