I sink into my seat as Archie stands up and hugs him warmly.Sometimes I wish Archie wasn’t such a lovable guy and had at least one bad bone in his body.
“Matt, you taking up singing now?”Marco says in a beautiful, thick Italian accent.
“Matt’s always been a bit of a singer,” bellows Archie, cackling before downing another shot.
“You found a new talent at last, Grandpa?”Marco says, grinning, and Archie guffaws even harder.Behind him, a couple of statuesque girls hang off the arms of some of his team.I stare hard at one of the girls and she smiles coyly back, her eyelashes fluttering.Part of me wants to respond.To turn it on for her and take her back to the hotel with me.
She’s not Chloe, though.
“That’s right,” I say, dragging my eyes back to the shot glass on the table.
I sink further into my seat.Not now.Not a gloating Rossini.It’s the last thing I need.
I know he’s just trash-talking.I know it’s a bit of fun.I know that Marco is a nice dude, really, but there’s a littlesting in the tail.Everyone who leaves Rossini feels the loss.They’re the greatest team in the world, legacy-wise.And when you’re in, you’re in.When you’re out, you’re out.It’s heartbreaking.
I glance up and see the girl with the eyelashes looking like she wants to play.But as Marco slides into the booth across from me, I feel suddenly clear.
“Archie, I have to go,” I say, standing up.
“Be careful, Matt,” he says, shaking his head.
When Chloe isn’t in her room at the hotel, I don’t have to think hard to figure out where she could be.And so, here I am, at two a.m., back in our garage on the circuit, avoiding the eyes of the shipping crews and cleaners as I pick my way through the almost-empty lot and to the back door of Arden.
She’s there, as I knew she would be.Sitting on a crate, playing with a carbon fiber engine part, looking so damn sad.And so beautiful.The garage is still thick with the smells of race weekend—fuel, burned rubber—but there’s also a treacly hint of whiskey in the air.
“Chloe,” I say quietly, making her leap.
“Fuck!”she says, clutching her heart.“Matt.”
I spy a tiny bottle of Jack Daniel’s on the floor just behind her.
“I took it from the hotel,” she says, her face flat.“What are you doing here?”
“I came to find you.I wanted to see if you were okay.”
I’m not sure whether to go sit with her or to keep my distance, so instead I stand in my spot, trying to force myself to look straight.She pushes herself up off the crate.
“No, you didn’t,” she says, rolling her eyes.
“I did.Really.”
“I saw what you were doing tonight.What are you getting at?What is your end goal?”she asks.
“With what?”I ask, taking a step closer to her.I’m dangerously, furiously close to grabbing her by the waist and pulling her into me again.For a hug.For more.For whatever she needs.
Chloe puts a hand on the crate to steady herself.
“Withthis,” she says again, gesturing between us.“You knowthiscan’t happen.”
“I know.I know.I just...wanted to find you.Make sure you’re okay,” I say, studying her as she pushes her long hair over her shoulder and tips her head, fixing her bleary eyes on mine.Wait.Has she been crying?
“Are you mad at me?”I ask.
“Matt,” she sighs, kicking the floor.“Please, just go.”
“The karaoke,” I say suddenly.“That’s what upset you.Our song.”
“Our song,” she says bitterly.“It’s just a dumb song.”
