Page 104 of Break My Heart

“You made a mistake and you corrected it. I love you, Leo,” I say firmly. “Don’t rewrite everything you’ve done. Don’t carry your father’s cruelty into this. Who he is doesn’t define you.”

His chest rises and falls unevenly, like he’s trying to regulate something that doesn’t want to be controlled. Then, he admits, “I don’t even know what I’m supposed to feel right now.”

“You don’t have to. You’re allowed to feel anything you want.”

I lean closer. “I’ve got you. No matter what.”

He just breathes. Inhale, exhale.

Then his hand tightens around mine, the other coming up to my back, pulling me closer like he needs to anchor himself to something that won’t disappear. “I truly can’t believe that’s how I found out.”

My chest tightens. “I know.”

His head dips slightly, his forehead resting against mine. I feel the moment his control slips. Not completely, not in a way that shatters him, but enough to know he’s not holding anything back. I feel it all—a wretched sadness, anger, and confusion about what comes next.

Outside the room, I hear my father’s voice, low and controlled as he speaks to Dario, the situation already moving, already becoming something bigger than just us.

But in here, Leo is the only thing that matters. Not the headlines, not the next race.

Just him.

Just this moment.

And making sure he’s aware that he’s not alone. I lean my head back so I can press a soft kiss to his temple before murmuring, “I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right by your side.”

This time, his exhale isn’t quite as sharp or broken. He’s hurting—as he should. But the deliberate shock his father caused by coming here is waning.

When his arms tighten around me in response, I know he believes me.

And that he’s shoring himself up for whatever comes next.

38

TRAIL BRAKING: GRADUALLY RELEASING BRAKES INTO A CORNER FOR BETTER ROTATION

Idon’t remember falling asleep. I remember Christin’s voice, her hands holding me steady when everything in my body felt like it was caving in. I remember thinking I just needed a second.

Apparently, I took more than that.

Voices pull me back to the reality I have to face. They’re muffled at first, then Christin bites out, “There’s no way. He’s not racing next weekend. Absolutely not.”

“He might need it,” Dario replies, calm but firm.

“He just found out his brother and his family are dead. And, due to Daddy Dearest, not even in a way that lets him fully process the implications. You think throwing himself into a race at Spa is going to fix that?”

“I think it might keep him from drowning in his grief,” Dario retorts quietly.

I push myself upright slowly, my body heavier than it should be, like sleep didn’t actually let my body rest—it just delayed facing anything. The bedroom spins for half a second before I realize I can make a decision about one thing. Too bad it’s about the fact I really need to piss.

Even in the loo, I can hear their low voices from the main suite. After I’m done, I take my time drinking a glass of water that was left on the nightstand.

I feel disoriented but not broken. I’m surprised by the heartache I feel for a man I haven’t seen since I escaped my father’s emotional prison.

Stepping out of the bedroom, everything and everyone snaps into focus.

Christin stands near the center of the room, arms crossed tightly, her entire posture rigid with determination. Dario is across from her, one hand braced against the back of a chair, the other gesturing slightly as he talks.

Lewis stands near the window, watching both of them, silent but present in a way that feels protective.