“You probably know everything about Severino though, given that he’s an Amato god!” His excitement is almost palpable. “It’s a shame you can’t speak to him directly about his time at Amato because, you know he?—”
“We’re not here for the exhibit,” Travis says more tersely than I would’ve expected. “Why don’t you show us the most important safety feature to the car?” He suggests in a way that makes it clear that it’s absolutely not a suggestion.
Scott walks us over to a section of the first floor of the museum, separated from the rest.
“In here we have the most modern and dramatic safety installations to the modern F1 car,” Scott tells us, placing a hand on the curved titanium bar that extends up from the front ofthe car and around the top of the driver’s seat, anchoring to the back.
“The halo,” Scott continues. “It protects drivers from flying debris in the event of a crash. Which is how it’s gotten its reputation as one of the most advanced safety features in the sport in the past seventy-five years.”
Scott pauses, looking over the halo on the car beside him with admiration.
“Lastly,” Scott continues, “as I like to say, the halo is to the modern F1 car what the HANS is to the modern driver’s safety equipment.”
“HANS? What is that?” I ask Travis instead of Scott.
Before explaining, Travis thanks Scott for the tour. A beat later, it’s just Travis and me as we approach a helmet in a glass case surrounded by a big, metal, strappy thing.
“This is what I wear while driving,” he says. He explains that the HANS device attaches to the helmet and extends around the neck and shoulders to support a racer in the event of an accident.
“It’s safer than airbags,” he finishes.
I snort, unable to stop my mind from going back to the fact that the airbags in my parents’ car did absolutely nothing to save them. Some accidents are just too damn treacherous to survive.
Even with safety features.
I place my hand on my stomach at the same time the baby starts moving in my belly. The thought of losing Travis in a race terrifies me almost as much as the thought of this child being without its father.
“And you wear these for every race, right?” I ask stupidly.
“Along with the fire-resistant suit and gloves. No part of my body is left unprotected.”
I nod, somewhat assured.
“Why did you want me to see this?” I ask, waving my hand in the general direction of the displays.
His hands move to my waist as he comes to stand in front of me.
“Because I know what I do for a living frightens you. It shouldn’t.”
“It shouldn’t?” I ask, sarcasm lacing my voice.
He takes it in stride, shaking his head. “To be honest, we’re the safest drivers on any road. We’re not the careless road racers who ruin families and cost people their lives in a senseless, street drag race.”
My heart kicks against my ribs. I think about all of the changes and innovations that have gone into the sport over the years. I’m able to breathe a little easier when I think about all of the safety features I’ve learned about today.
When I place my hand on my belly, there’s another kick that makes me smile. Travis’ hand covers mine, warming me from the inside out. The baby starts moving more.
“Trust me to take care of you, Alyssia,” he suddenly says.
Our eyes meet, and I want to fall into them. I want to trust that everything will be okay if I give into this inner yearning to let myself go and trust that it’ll turn out for the better. That my entire world won’t be pulled from underneath me.
The corners of my lips tip upward into a small smile as Travis cups my face. He pulls a tiny moan from me as he brushes his lips across mine. Once … twice … three times leaves me breathless.
“I have a favor to ask,” he says, pulling back slightly.
“Now you want to ask me for favors?” I tease.
My heart lurches at the curling up of that perfect bow mouth.
