The irony nearly choked me.
I took a sip of wine, saying nothing.
I wanted to tell him. Wanted to explain that Julian was the master of the ‘I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed’ speech. That every conversation was a post-mortem of my failures.
But I couldn’t.
So I smiled and took another sip of wine.
“Even when I win, it’s never enough. He’ll shake my hand, make a joke to the press, tell me good job.” He scowled atthe ceiling. “Then, the second we’re alone, it’s a breakdown of everything that could have been better.”
I nodded. “Even when you get something right, there’s still room for improvement.” The words slipped out before I could stop them.
Griffin glanced at me, his brows rising. “Exactly. How did you—” He stopped, then laughed again. Awkward. Uncomfortable. “But that’s different for you. Julian’s tough, sure, but he’s proud of you. I’ve seen the way he talks about you.”
Proud. Right.
“Do you ever think about walking away?”
“From what?”
From Julian? Only every single day.
“Your career. Your life. Whatever it is you’re doing that isn’t making you happy.”
I frowned. “Why would you think I’m not happy?”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.” He shrugged. “But hypothetically, would you?”
I opened my mouth, seconds away from telling him everything. How I’d spent years building toward exactly that with my degree, my internship, and a career path that would finally get me out from under his control.
But what was the point? He’d already decided who I was.
“I’m fine.”
He held my gaze for a long moment, then shrugged. “Fair enough.”
I should go upstairs. Should end this before I said something I’d regret.
But I didn’t move.
“Have you thought about walking away?”
“From racing?” He pursed his lips. “I used to. When I was a teenager. I’d sit in my room, thinking about what it’d be like to quit.” He smiled, but there was nothing happy about it. “Butthen I’d imagine my dad’s reaction, and quitting didn’t feel like an option.”
I knew that feeling all too well.
Except I was going to do it anyway. The second I had my degree and enough money saved, I’d walk away from Julian and never look back.
I’d be free.
“If quitting wasn’t an option, what made you keep going?”
“At first? Spite.”
I laughed. “That tracks.”
He smirked. “I wanted to prove to him I could do it. That I could win without his constant micromanaging. But after a while, it stopped being about him. I realized I wanted it.”
