I get an Uber to the hotel in a haze. The unpleasant dampness clouding my thoughts lingers as I make my way to Asher’s room instead of my own.
He opens after my first set of knocks, and my stomachdrops.
His expression is set in a blank mask, but his eyes swarm with rage. His lips are just a little thinner than normal, his jaw a lot tighter. He’s furious.
And he’s hurt. There’s visible bruising around his neck. The rest of him is covered in clothes so I can’t discern damage, but I wince at the thought of how much pain he’s in.
“What are you doing here?” His voice is flat, dissonant. Harsh.
It feels like a slap to the face.
“I’m…” I clear my throat. “Here to check on you. I wanted to run to you on the track and join you in the hospital, but—”
“You were too busy with Elio and the team,” he surmises, his tone accusing. As if Ideliberatelyleft him at the first sign of trouble.
Shock knocks the breath out of me. Asherknows better.He knowsme, and I’ve more than proven my loyalty to him. Where the hell is this coming from?
“Asher—”
“You should leave. I’m not in a good mood.” He turns and stalks back into the room, but leaves the door open. I take that as all the invitation I need. I get that he’s hurt, angry, and dejected, but I won’t let him push me away. It won’t solve anything.
I follow him in and close the door behind me. Asher moves to stand in front of the large window, gazing at the pouring rain. Itstillhasn’t let up, and when I left, I saw that the F1 track was flooded.
“Ilya kept me in place after the crash and reassigned me to Elio. I couldn’t say no.” I tentatively walk up beside him. “Then, I spent several hours helping compile a report to get Ulrich—”
Asher rounds on me so abruptly, the explanation dies on my lips. “I don’t fucking care,” he snarls. “Why you were assigned to Elio after you got me in a fucking car crash is beyond me, but Gaston has always had a competence issue.”
All the air leaves my blood and lungs in a rush. My eyes sting. It feels like he’s just slipped a knife between my ribs, and the tip of it is lodged in my heart.
His words hurt everywhere. More than hurt; they set off poignant rounds of agony.
“What?” I breathe. He thinksI’mthe reason he crashed?
“You gave me fuckinggreens,” Asher hisses. “I looked it up; every single other person went with blues. You know,the tyres specifically engineered for bad rain. I was at a massive disadvantage—”
“Asher, you crashed because you went after March and ended up behindUlrich,” I say emphatically. Did I err in giving him greens? Possibly. I’ll have to run that decision through my algorithm a dozen different ways once I have all the race data processed. But Asher would’ve been fine if he’dlistened to me.
Is he seriously blaming me?
Doesn’t he realize how much thathurts?
“I wouldn’t have had the stupid idea to overtake ifyoudidn’t give me hope. It made me reckless. It got me afuckingconcussion,bruisedbones, and a broken fucking dream.”
The knife slips farther into my heart. My body goes weak with pain, and I’m surprised I don’t fall to my knees.
My model specifically recommended greens because everyone else was on blues, and because I was constantly feeding it updated wind and perspiration reports throughout the race. It made a calculated decision that I happened to agree with. While it was risky, it was far less risky than the shit Asher pulled… yet he’s blamingme?
My pain fades into background noise, and anger takes its place. Swift, hard, and sharp enough to cut.
“You haveno rightto pin the crash on me,” I hiss. “A series of decisions led to it, and only one of them was mine.You’rereckless enough that you might’ve gone after March even with blues, which would’vestillput you behind Ulrich.”
“No, it wouldn’t have. Your choice directly led to—”
“Enough!” I snap. “You have no right to talk to me like that or blame me for what transpired today. I have done nothing but go out of my way, lose sleep, and risk my neck to help you this season. I have dedicated all-nighters and neglected my responsibilities for you—”
Asher cuts me off with a cruel laugh. “And look where it’s gotten me. I don’twantyour fucking help anymore, intern. It’s over.We’reover. I’m going back to Ethan. You can take your destructive bullshit somewhere else—ifanyone will have you after today.”
I stumble back. Now, the blade has punctured a deep hole in my heart, and it’s seeping blood and pain.
