“Griff.”
I didn’t want to talk about it.
Didn’t want to admit that home didn’t feel like home anymore.
That walking through the door meant pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. That I’d let myself believe something could be different, that she felt it too, only for her to shut it down like it was nothing.
That I couldn’t even fucking look at her without wanting more.
That maybe I’d been stupid enough to think she wanted more.
My grip tightened on the towel. “I need the win.”
Liam slowly nodded. “Yeah. You do. But you’re breaking yourself before the race even starts. If you go into Austin like this, you won’t get it.”
I looked up. “I don’t have a choice.”
His eyes narrowed. “Says who?”
I swallowed, my jaw ticking.
Julian.
Aedris.
The fucking team that kept putting me second.
I flexed my fingers, rolling my wrists, but the tension stayed locked in my muscles. In my chest. In my goddamn skull.
Liam stared at me, waiting.
“I can’t let Callaghan win again.”
His brows rose. “That what this is about?”
I shrugged. “It’s part of it.”
He hummed. “And the other part?”
“I need the win.”
“Already covered that.” He cocked his head. “Try again.”
I downed half the bottle, wiped my mouth on the back of my hand. “I need to beat Callaghan.”
“Uh-huh.” His eyes narrowed. “And how do you feel about Stefano?”
My grip tightened around the bottle. “Why would I feel any kind of way about Stefano?”
Liam’s lips pressed together like he was holding back a laugh. “You tell me, mate. It’s not like they made you move over for him when you were trying to take P1 from Callaghan or anything.”
I forced out a short, humorless chuckle. “It was team orders.”
“Oh, sure,” he said, nodding, mock-serious. “Completely logical. Best for the team. Can’t imagine why that might sit weird with you.”
I rolled my shoulders, shoving the irritation down. “I don’t care.”
“That’s funny.” His eyes gleamed. “Because the press and the fans sure as hell did. Socials were a mess. They’re still talking about it.”
