If that wasn’t Barrett, I’d eat my helmet.
“That was bullshit,” Violet said, still focused on her own battle for tenth. “He brake-checked you.”
“Yep.”
“Isn’t that illegal?”
“In real racing, yeah. In Mario Kart?” I shrugged. “Fair game.”
She managed to claw her way back to ninth before crossing the line.
“I got ninth,” she said, like she’d just won a championship.
“You did.”
“Out of twelve.”
“Still counts.”
She turned to me, eyes bright with competition. “Again.”
We raced three more times. BrakeCheck_King stayed in the lobby, and every time we ended up battling for the lead.
Violet gradually improved, finishing seventh in the last race. When the lobby finally disbanded, she set down her controller and stretched, her shirt riding up to expose a strip of skin above her waistband.
I looked away. Studied the TV. Very interesting TV.
“That was...” She trailed off.
“Terrible? You’re still terrible.”
“I was going to say surprisingly fun.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “But sure. I’m terrible. You’re a delight.”
“I’m aware.”
“Your ego is showing.”
“It never left.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled. Actually smiled at me.
The suite felt smaller suddenly. We were sitting on the floor, controllers abandoned, and she was looking at me like I was a person instead of a problem to manage.
Dangerous.
Hazel stirred in her basket, letting out a soft whimper.
The spell broke.
Violet moved immediately, all business again. She scooped Hazel and checked her nappy, falling back into nanny mode.
I checked my phone. Nearly five PM. We’d been playing for over two hours.
Two hours where I hadn’t thought about the plane. About what almost happened. About this mess with Julian and the team and my career balancing on a knife’s edge.
Two hours where I’d just... existed. With her.
“She needs feeding,” Violet said, already moving toward the kitchen.
