“So you heard Thomas’s radio?”
Rafael freezes. Yeah. Thought so. “Listen, in the heat of the race, drivers sometimes?—”
“He begged Ferraro toforceme to give up my win.” Julien points an accusatory finger at his chest. “You heard that and you comforted him at the finish line. Poor Thomas! He couldn’t manipulate the race results! Boo-fucking-hoo!”
“He still lost his home race, Julien.”
“Well, it’s a good thing he gets to try again next year! You know who doesn’t?!” Julien turns his finger back around andjabs it into his own chest several times. “This could be myonlyshot to drive a car at the front of the grid.”
“But aren’t you?—?”
“You know which teams are asking to meet with me? Sobber. Andes.Wilhelms. Teams where good drivers go to die.”
Rafael purses his lips. “Thomas races with his entire heart. He doesn't think aboutnext year. I can’t fault him for wanting to win at any cost.”
“Even if the cost is snatching it away from his little brother?! The man who proved he was the best driver today?!”
Julien pants. His chest expands and contracts so hard it pushes the limits of his champagne-stiff Nomex shirt.
“Even if.”
Unbelievable.
“Then he should’ve fought me on the track.” Not on the radio, not with politics, and no stupid mind tricks. He should’veracedbetter. “You still don’t get it, do you? Ferraroloveshim. More than me, more thanyou. They love him, and he tried to use that leverage against his teammate.”
“With the Drivers’ Championship so close?—”
“Isn’t that a dangerous precedent? What does that mean for you? You havezeropoints in the championship. Does Thomas deserve all of your wins for the rest of the season? DoI?!”
“Of course not,” Rafael grumbles. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Then why were youhugging him?!”
After Rafael’s stupid ‘Oh, I’ve never loved him’ speech, hecontinuesto defend a man who is so clearly in the wrong. What is that if not love? How can Rafael be blind to how Thomas’s selfishness hurts everyone?!
“He still lost his home race, Julien.” Rafael turns away, towards the door. “I’m gonna go.”
“Yeah, you should do that.”
On his way out, he nearly bowls over Matthieu, who hovers just outside. The middle brother watches Rafael leave before turning back to Julien.
If it’s not one thing, it’s another. “What do you want?”
Matthieu lets himself into the crowded space and closes the door behind him. “Um, I’m supposed to invite you to dinner, but I just happened to overhear?—”
“Yeah, there’s no ceiling.” Julien finally grasps the hem of his Nomex shirt and pulls the garment up and off. “I’m not going to dinner if Thomas is.”
“Maman just ripped him a new one for saying the same thing about you.”
There’s something really satisfying about that. Julien smirks as he unzips the bottom of his race suit and pushes it down. “What’d you think of the race?”
“Fucking terrifying, if I’m honest.” Matthieu exhales into a whistle. “Isn’t it a little hot out for all those layers?”
“They’re fireproof, so I don’t burn to death.”
“See? That’s crazy.”
“You use oven mitts. It’s basically the same thing.”
