Page 40 of Break My Heart

I let out a sigh of relief and tell myself, You’re here for results. Not to rehash our past. At least not right now.

Leo ignites the engine. The sharp sound cuts cleanly through my personal meanderings. Refocusing, I pull up my tablet and rest it on the pit wall. Synced with the telemetry screen as well as the car output, I should be able to determine if a bug smashing against Leo’s visor throws him off.

He completes his safety checks before easing the car out of the pit for his formation lap to bring his tires and brakes up to racing temperature. He passes by where Dario and I are standing. Seconds later, he drops the hammer, and soon, I’m treated to the screaming sound of speed.

I can’t prevent my lips from curving with pleasure as inputs follow—steering angles, brake pressure, throttle use. Even as I scan the readouts, I notice my new software inputs point out a weakness. I lean over to tell Dario, “He’s adjusting early.”

“Where?” Dario asks.

“Corner entry,” I say, pointing to the readout. “He’s correcting before the system stabilizes. Which means he doesn’t trust it to catch up.”

Dario leans over, eyes narrowing on my screen. “Are you saying there’s a lag in the car that’s forcing him to anticipate the turn?”

“I’m saying he’s anticipating instead of driving based on actual data. Look here at corner three and again here at corner six.”

Dario lifts his mic to his lips, ordering Leo, “Keep going. Full open. We’re getting good data.”

Another lap. Faster this time. The corrections are more apparent. “He’s overcompensating because he’s used to the response of the older software.”

“Can you fix it?” Dario asks.

I don’t hesitate. “Yes.”

Fifteen minutes and multiple laps later, I give Dario the high sign to have Leo bring it in. Leo returns the car to the pit, cutting the engine as the team moves in. I don’t look in his direction right away. I stare down at my data before Dario urges me closer to him.

The second I reach him, I demand, “Again.”

Dario glances at me. “Didn’t you just say⁠—‍”

“Again,” I repeat with confidence.

A heartbeat passes before Dario agrees. “She’s in charge.”

There’s no argument from Leo. No pushback. Instead, he uses his in-car hydration system to take a quick drink before aiming the vehicle back out onto the track.

The second run is cleaner. Not because the system is better—but because he’s trusting the readouts more. He’s not anticipating; he’s adapting to the quality of the data. Which confirms exactly what I suspected. It’s not him; it’s the software. And that’s something I can fix over time.

The car rolls in for the second time. This time I step forward before the engine fully dies.

He’s still in the cockpit when I approach him. I start my analysis before he can speak. “You fought the changes initially.”

“Yeah. I couldn’t trust it. I was just starting to when things were interrupted.”

His look pierces through me, and I know he’s talking about more than his run. I lean in and gesture toward his steering wheel display. “You’re compensating on entry, then chasing it on exit. Your steering input curve is out of sync with the system response.”

His brows lower, but there’s no defensiveness in his expression. “Will I be able to trust the data?”

“I’ve already made a number of improvements and will continue to do so, yes.”

A second passes. That’s when I realize how close we are to one another. My heart skips a beat. Though my eyes are hidden behind the tint of my reflective sunglasses, his aren’t. I see the intensity with which he’s staring at me. How his eyes flick down to my lips and back up again.

The air between us shifts—subtle, but undeniable. It’s fueled by our past connection, yet it’s different. Turning my head away, I stare at the car. Then an idea hits me. “I want to test your skills, Leo.”

His brow furrows. “Didn’t you just get an up close and personal view of what I can do?”

“Huh.” I scrunch my nose. “You think this is all you can handle?”

I see it in the way his expression flickers, just for a second. I’ve challenged him.