Page 58 of Out of Control

He nods. “And why’s that?”

“You’re on a new team. With my brother. The last thing we need is to cause turmoil at Gravitas.”

“So it’s for my sake then?”

“Last year was a shitshow for you with Lachlan and Blair,” I say referring to his teammate and his ex who started dating each other. There were a few public scenes that occurred that painted him in a less favorable light. They only served to encourage the negative things people think and say about him. “You were accused of hitting your teammate out of revenge, Rossi.”

“I’m well aware. I paid the price for it. Your point?”

“Don’t you think it would look bad for you to be back in a garage on a new team and be at odds with your new teammate too? Because that’s exactly what would happen. Cruz wouldn’t let this go without a fight. I don’t know what’s between you two, but I know that for a fact. Then what? Then you’d look like you’re the problem and nobody would see it differently.”

His jaw sets and his teeth clench. I know he can see what I’m saying, and luckily for me, it plays perfectly into what’s truly necessary.

The last thing I need right now is for this to get out. For the fact that we’re . . . whatever we are, to be known. Does that make me a chickenshit? Yes.

He steps toward me and cups my face. His eyes are serious. “You told me last night it was okay to use each other for whatever it is we need to use each other for.”

“I did?” Shit.

“You did. And last night—and this morning—happened with me knowing that’s how you saw me. You’re using me. I own that. I accepted that before you even woke up.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you. I promise. It’s me. It’s . . .”

“What are you using me for, Bellissima? To get back at your brother? To rebel against your grandfather? To get that carefree feeling back you had from the festival?”

“It’s none of those,” I whisper.

He nods and I swear to God he can see through the lie that I can’t acknowledge yet. “You just keep thinking that, and I’ll just keep pretending the real reason you’re here is because you want to be. Because you think I’m good enough.”

“It is. I am. You are.” Get it together, Sof. It’s wrong that my family and my insecurities are making him feel less about himself. And I have no idea how to fix that. “How can you think differently? If I didn’t want to be with you, I would have asked to go home. This morning never would have happened. After this morning never would have happened.” I lean forward and press my lips to his, hating this conversation. “I’m just getting used to the idea of this. There’s a lot of outside noise. For me. For you. And maybe it’s best if we figure out what song we prefer before we let any more in.”

He purses his lips. “Tell me something real about you, Sofia. Tell me something to prove you’re invested in this as more than a fuck you to your family.”

My gaze flits around the room almost as if I’m desperate and know what he’s going to ask but don’t want to address. “Sure. Yes. Only if you do the same.”

“I don’t believe I ever gave you anything to question when it comes to my investment in you, but sure, I’ll play.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Who left you?”

Shit. My pulse pounds and my chest aches. I opened this door. I know it, but that doesn’t mean I hate him for walking through it. “My mamá,” I whisper. “She left us. And then came back and made me believe I was a good enough reason for her to stay before leaving again.”

“I’m sorry.” His expression is as pained as my voice sounds. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

But you did.

“And when she left physically, it feels like my papá left mentally too. So yeah, it sucks. I’m over it. It’s not a big deal.”

And yet when you get drunk, Sofia, you tell the man you like you’re afraid he’s going to leave.

Rossi just nods quietly. “It has every right to be a big deal though.” He closes his eyes for a beat before opening them and offering me a reticent smile. “You can use me for your pleasure. You can use me to prove not everybody leaves. You can even use me until you get the strength to tell people we’re whatever this is. But don’t you dare use me to lie to yourself. You’re better than that.”

• • •

But don’t you dare use me to lie to yourself. You’re better than that.

Rossi’s words are a constant refrain in my head that wades through the guilt that feels as thick as sludge.

But he said them. He put them out in the ether and then he let them go like he never even thought them. What I’d give to be able to do the same.

But I can’t.