Especially not with the bullshit blackmail attempts. They’ve gone silent over the past few weeks. Just because they failed to follow through on their threats, so far, doesn’t mean they’ve gone away.
My uncle is still working on answers.
A wrinkle of curiosity appears between Alyssia’s brows.
Though I want so much to forget about it, I tell Alyssia what happened in the final race of the season.
“It was mine to lose and I lost it,” I finish.
“Honestly, it sounds a little bit like sabotage.”
I tighten my lips as well as my hand into a fist, before forcing myself to release the tension that’s just built up in my body from hearing my silent thoughts spoken out loud.
“My team principal lodged a complaint and request for review from the committee. While the call was ruled ‘suspicious,’ the decision was upheld.”
She shakes her head, eyes narrowing. “Bastards.”
I lean in, kissing her lips. Cliché as it is, she’s fucking sexy when she’s pissed.
“How can he get away with that?” she continues.
Her outrage and question trigger a thought. Ultimately, Ronald Stevenson was forced to step down for the call he made.
What if he’s angry about it?
Angry enough to blackmail me into losing it all this season as some sort of personal vendetta.
“Travis?”
“What was that?” I bring my attention back to Alyssia.
“I asked how did you get over it?”
I pause, thinking about my mood at the beginning of this season. While I never thought about quitting the sport I love, I was pissed for a long time. At the beginning of this season, nothing mattered to me more than redemption.
I still want what was taken from me.
“I’m not over it,” I answer honestly. “I’m still out for blood this season. Finishing anywhere less than first place is unacceptable.
“And I want you there,” I say. “Every step of the way, Alyssia. Starting tomorrow.”
I might be an asshole for putting pressure on her to come to my race, but I need her there.
“Promise me you’ll make it?”
CHAPTER 34
Alyssia
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Mrs. Townsend discreetly asks as we pass the throngs of people waiting for the start of the race.
When I glance up at the grey clouds in the distance, a wave of unease forms in my stomach.
“It looks like it’s going to rain.” Right now, the sun is shining, but those clouds could put an end to sunshine quickly.
“May not be for a few hours,” Mrs. Townsend assures me.
She sounds relaxed, unfazed by it all. I try to follow her lead as we make our way toward the back entrance of the paddock to avoid cameras and news broadcasts positioned to catch the racers as they enter.
