“Sixteen minutes,” he finishes for me.
My pulse flies. Rome and I are all business when surrounded by the rest of the engineers or on the track, but when we’re alone, something simmers between us. The air crackles, and the tiny hairs on my arms stand upright.
“What did you need?” I ask.
I assume some type of last-minute adjustment, or maybe he had a breakthrough while being alone with his thoughts and needs to discuss a last-minute strategy.
Rome’s chest expands with a heavy inhale. He holds it for several seconds before clenching his eyes shut and exhaling.
Is he nervous for the race?
I take a step toward him. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”
He opens his eyes a breath later, the blue so bright I freeze mid-step.
“I just needed to see you,” he mutters, like he doesn't want anyone to hear through the thin walls of his tent. “I wouldn’t have been able to race if I didn’t lay my eyes on you.”
My shoulders slowly loosen. “Is this because of Beck’s text?” I roll my eyes. “He’s dramatic. I’m fine.”
Rome says nothing.
His fists are clenched by his sides, the veins on the tops of his hands pumped full of anger.
The ground feels unsteady beneath me, and I know it’s because we’re alone in this stuffy tent.
“Find your center,” I remind him. “You’re about to be driving two hundred miles per hour, and now I really expect you to beat Beau.” I give him a small smile in an attempt to loosen him a little.
His neck bobs up and down with a slow swallow as I step backward toward the tent opening.
“You’ve got, like, ten minutes to clear your head,” I say.
I’m less than a foot away from the outside when I turn away, my heart pounding inside my ears. My fingers brush against the tent briefly, my stomach tangled with flutters.
But then, there’s a shift in the air, and I’m tugged backward.
Chapter Thirty
ROME
This can go either way.
Tessa can refuse to cross the line for the third time, or she can give in to the only thing I think capable of clearing my head.
I’ve been on my best behavior where she’s concerned; my focus stable, my qualifying solid, and then Beck’s text came through.
Maybe it’s because I know my father’s watching me every single second he’s able, with Beau glaring at me from across the paddock and very carefully dropping subtle threats when I’m within earshot, but I’m wound up. If I don’t get it under control, it’ll bleed out onto the track.
Tessa peeks at me through her thick lashes, a soft breath escaping through her parted lips. With one arm wrapped around her lower back, I press her tighter to me and grab a hold of her chin.
“What are you doing?” she whispers.
I swallow.
I hate admitting I need help or showing weakness in any way, but I can’t seem to hide when it comes to her. I’m desperate to tell her every thought in my head, share every secret I’ve been asked to keep.
Is this what it’s like to trust someone?
“I’m clearing my head.”
