“They always do.”
He snorted. “Not like this. You didn’t just lose a race, Griff. They took it from you. And the entire world saw it.” He shifted his weight, watching me. “That’s a great position to be in when you’re shopping for a seat.”
I froze. My gaze found his so fast, I’d have a job convincing him he was hearing typical rumors.
“I mean, if a driver hypothetically was thinking about leaving his team, this would be a pretty ideal time, wouldn’t it?”
I eyed him. “Hypothetically.”
Liam nodded, his expression shifting to something more serious. “So where are we at?”
My jaw ticked. “Three teams interested. Two of them serious.”
“Balbec?”
“And Rekford.”
His brows rose. “Thought they were locked in with their lineup.”
“They were. Until Nico started murmuring about retirement.”
Liam’s eyes widened. “Wait. What?”
I leaned back against the weight rack. “You heard me.”
He stared at me. “We just spent half the morning cycling with him in Singapore and he said nothing about retiring.”
I shrugged. “Keeping it close to the vest, I guess.”
“Christ. When’s the announcement?”
“End of season.”
“So that seat’s yours.”
“Maybe. Depends on timing.” I grabbed my water bottle. “Balbec’s cleaner. Less politics, better management.”
“But?”
“Rekford’s faster.”
He nodded slowly, processing. “When does Dominic need your decision?”
“By Brazil.”
“That’s tight.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, whenever that hypothetical change happens,” he said, his brows dancing. “Remember to take your favorite trainer with you.”
He grinned and my traitorous lips followed suit.
Liam wandered over to the dumbbells, grabbing a heavy pair. He settled into a set of overhead presses, entirely unbothered.
I could have done without someone else knowing about Dominic entertaining offers, but at least he hadn’t gotten the whole Violet fiasco out of me. The less people who knew about that the better.
I stood and grabbed another set of plates to add to my barbell. I slid the plates onto the bar and got into position, preparing for another set. I lifted and?—
