“P5. Not bad for a pirouette.”
P5. Fifth on the grid. Satisfaction should have filled me. Normally it would have. Now, it felt like nothing.
“Stewards want to see you,” Al said, tablet in hand. “Callaghan’s been called up, too.”
“Good. He could have killed us both.”
“Could say the same about you. That move into Turn 18 was mental.”
I nodded at Liam. I’d been just as reckless as Callaghan, just as willing to risk everything for the sake of pride. The realization sat in my stomach like a stone.
“I need to see V—” I choked on her name, realizing at the last second how it would look if I near crashed into a wall and my first thought was Violet. “Hazel.”
“Press conference first. Then stewards. Then you can?—”
“No.” I was already walking toward the back of the garage where she waited. “Everything else waits.”
I found Violet in the small hospitality area behind the garage, still clutching Hazel, still pale. She looked up, and the raw relief in her eyes almost buckled my knees.
“You’re alright,” she whispered, her gaze scanning me for injuries.
“I’m alright.” I reached for her, needing to feel the solid proof of her in my arms. “I’m sorry. That was?—”
“Terrifying.” She leaned into me, her free hand gripping my race suit. “Griffin, I thought… when I saw you spinning…”
“I know.” I kissed her hair, breathing her in. The scent of her and the faint, sweet smell of Hazel was the only thing grounding me. Hazel gurgled between us, oblivious. “I know, gorgeous. I’m sorry.”
“What happened out there? Why did he...”
“Stupidity.” I pulled back to look at her properly. “Callaghan was playing games. I should have backed off, but… I let him get to me.”
Her expression sharpened. “So you proved your point by nearly crashing?”
“That wasn’t the plan.”
“What was the plan, Griffin? Because to me it looked like you were trying to get yourself killed.”
The accusation hit its mark. “I couldn’t let him win.”
“It’s qualifying! What was he going to win?”
The desire to make her understand, to explain the burning need for retribution, died on my lips. Looking at her terrified face, at my daughter staring at me, I had no defense.
She took a shaky breath. “Did you think about her while you were proving your point?”
The question twisted in my gut. No. In that moment, there had been nothing but the track, Callaghan, and a red-hot surge of pride. I’d handed my rival exactly what he wanted: a way inside my head.
“The stewards will probably give him a penalty,” I said, grasping for something to fix this.
Violet pulled out of my arms, a soft sigh of pure frustration escaping her. “I don’t care about penalties. I care about you not ending up as a smear on the tarmac.” Her voice dropped, fierce and low. “If you drive like that again, I’m done. I’ll quit, Griffin. I’ll walk away. I won’t stand by and watch you destroy yourself for pride, and I won’t be part of it.”
The air left my lungs. “Vi…”
“I’m serious. Win by being the better driver. Not by proving who’s more willing to die.”
“He’s threatening her, Vi. I can’t just roll over.”
“Then you deal with it off the track. Through lawyers, the team, Izzy. Anything but you risking your life in some testosterone-fueled pissing contest.” Her hand came up to cup my cheek, her touch gentle but her eyes unrelenting. “You have a daughter that needs you to come home. Remember that.”
