“And instead?”Andy prompted gently.
“Instead I made it worse.”The admission tasted bitter.“I hurt him in front of everyone.”
Andy stayed quiet, watching me with those patient eyes that’d seen me through countless bad days.Finally, he said, “Lil, what’s really going on between you two?Because this feels like more than just competition.”
I sighed.“I haven’t told anyone this.I guess mostly because… I’m embarrassed?Or it makes me sad?I don’t know.But last year, in Las Vegas, Henri and I…” I stopped, sucking in a breath.“We slept together.It was like three years of dancing around the temptation was finally over, and afterward, I thought we’d be something.”
I picked at the loose thread on my leggings, not looking up.
“And then, the next morning, he said he didn’t want a relationship.That we should just forget it happened.”The memory still stung.“And so, I tried to move on.”
Andy stayed quiet, his hands gently resting on mine as his soft eyes stared at me with sympathy.
The words came faster now.“Then, in Monaco last week, I went to his room…” I paused, thinking about why I’d gone to his room in the first place.I hadn’t told Andy about the notes yet, because I knew he’d tell the team immediately.So, I opted for the safer version.“I went to ask him about why he slowed down so much during the curves… and we kissed again.Well, again afterMontreal.”
Andy looked incredibly surprised, which was usually hard to do.
“Wow.Lily.I had no idea.I wish you’d told me.You know, you don’t have to carry all this alone.”
I flashed him an appreciative smile.
“So, where does this leave you and Ollie?You’ve been hanging out; not sure how serious it all is.”
“Ah, now that’s had an interesting development.”
Andy’s face was a mixture of curiosity and wariness.“Oh?”
Ollie’s voice popped into my head.His story about F2, about Henri, delivered with that perfect blend of concern and reluctance that made it sound so goddamn believable.
“Back in F2, Ollie said Henri was burning out.Pushing too hard, not sleeping, the whole spiral.He’d apparently had an accident, and it was causing him to struggle.So, Ollie went to their team principal to try to help, suggested Henri might need support, like a sports psychologist or something.”
I paused, the next part sticking in my throat.
“Henri found out and turned it around on him.Told their team principal that Ollie was lying, and he was unstable and jealous.That Ollie was going to leak his private life to the press, make them think he couldn’t be trusted.The F2 team let him go, ending any hope of him having an F1 career.”
Andy turned to face me fully, the towel draped over his shoulder slipping slightly.His expression was carefully blank.“That’s quite a story.”
I nodded.“I know.It just… doesn’t feel like Henri.”
“You know,” Andy said, “I partly wonder if the truth is somewhere in the middle.Either way, you should ask Henri about it.”
“I know.I will.Probably should be after I apologize for yesterday…”
Andy’s expression softened.“Look, Lil, when you put the helmet on today,”—Andy gestured vaguely toward the garage door, toward the paddock beyond—“leave all this drama outside the car.It just needs to be you in there.Nothing else gets to come along for the ride.”
I nodded, and the door to the gym swung open.Andy motioned toward the exit.As he walked behind me, he called out, “You ready to go win something?”
“Always,” I said, stepping into the corridor, which was full of mechanics.
Andy squeezed my shoulder once before heading toward the garage.I watched him disappear into the chaos of race-day prep, then I turned toward my driver’s room.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out.
Unknown number.Again, with another thinly veiled threat.
The only thing that could make this day any worse.
“Last lap,” Mark said in my ear, voice calm.“Gap is under a second to Henri.”
