I flexed my fingers as the platform beneath me settled while Al, my race engineer, didn’t so much as blink. He just stared at me from his spot behind the bank of monitors, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Like I was an engine misfiring and he was two seconds away from pulling me apart to figure out what went wrong.
“You’ve got eleven days until Austin,” he said. “And you’re driving like you’ve never seen a braking marker before.”
I rolled out my wrists, shaking out the tension in my knuckles. “It’s a long season. You ever think maybe I’m just running a little low on adrenaline?”
His brow furrowed. “That’s like saying the sun’s taking the day off.”
I sighed, leaning back in the seat. The rig’s cockpit was damn near identical to the real thing. It had the same seating position, same controls, same brutal realism. And yet, no matter how much data it spat out, it couldn’t fix whatever was wrong in my head.
“Look, it’s a rough patch. Every driver has one.”
I never hit rough patches.
Bad sessions? Sure. A tough quali? Maybe. But three straight days of overdriving, missing braking points, and locking up in a simulator? That wasn’t a bad run. That was an issue.
And it started the moment Violet told me our night together was a mistake.
Four words. That’s all it took to scramble my head.
I’d woken up with her pressed against me, her body warm and soft, her scent filling my nose. And for a moment, I’d let myself believe that maybe the pull I felt toward her existed for a reason.
Maybe we were meant to be.
I never believed in fate. Never thought the universe gave a shit about things like “meant to be.”
My life had been built on choices. Mine, my father’s, my team’s. You win because you take the win, not because it was written in the stars.
What were the odds that a baby would be dropped on my doorstep and the one woman able to help me navigate it would be perfect for me?
The one woman who didn’t give a shit about who I was on a podium. The one woman who saw me beyond the cameras, the sponsorship deals, the race results.
The one woman I’d wanted before I even knew why.
It was too perfect.
Only fate hadn’t covered all its bases. Because she didn’t want me.
The one time I wasn’t looking for something temporary. The one time I wasn’t just in it for the chase. The one time I actually gave a shit.
And I was being left behind.
“Sure.” Al rocked back on his heels, pretending for half a second that he was buying it. “Tell me, when was the last time you had a ‘rough patch’ that lasted three straight days?”
I let my head drop back against the rig, staring at the ceiling. No answers there, either.
Al sighed, stepping closer. “I don’t need you sharp next week. I need you sharp now. You think the others are taking a breather just because Singapore’s behind us?”
I knew they weren’t.
I forced out a slow breath. “I’ll be sharp by Austin.”
Al nodded, but he didn’t look satisfied. “That’s a deadline, not a solution.”
The weights hit the rubber mat with a dull thud, the barbell bouncing once before settling.
I braced my hands on my knees, breath coming fast, arms burning, sweat running down my spine. Every muscle screamed, but my head was louder.
The gym smelled like rubber and metal, the faint scent of chalk in the air. The steady rhythm of weights clanking against the racks, the low hum of the air conditioning, but none of it could drown out the static in my head.
