Page 86 of Break My Heart

I see him now. Somewhere in the middle of all this, something shifted inside me. I know he loves me, even though he’s afraid of turning into his parents. I know it much the same way I can tell the difference between his frustration and disappointment. All I want to do is comfort him and let him know I’m proud of what he’s accomplished—both professionally and personally.

Because standing here, I can’t pretend anymore. I don’t just care about him. I’m still in love with him. And I know he’s not going to let me down again.

We’re in a quiet restaurant just outside Barcelona, the kind of place that doesn’t draw attention. It just offers us a quiet spot to just be.

Sipping my cortado, I remark, “You’re different.”

A faint smile touches his mouth. “In some ways, so are you.”

I watch him for a moment, waiting for the version of Leo who would’ve turned this into something lighter, something easier.

He doesn’t. “I kept my fears hidden from you because it offered me a measure of control and I thought control was the only way to keep my life from falling apart.”

“And now?”

“Now? I think hiding is the fastest way to break something that matters. Openness is the only way to sustain a relationship even when it’s uncomfortable.”

I let that sit between us for a moment before answering, “I’m not built for blind trust.”

“I know.”

“But I’m also not interested in walking away from something just because it requires effort.” I tilt my head slightly. “That means you, in case you were wondering.”

His expression doesn’t change much, but something lighter settles beneath it.

Watching the way he holds himself together for everyone else, I realize that night wasn’t just conversation. It was the beginning of a connection so strong, I look forward to years of growth from it.

His gaze finds mine immediately through the chaos of the paddock. His expression softens.

The team surges around him—engineers, mechanics, Dario at the center with that controlled pride he never quite lets loose in public. Hands clap Leo on the back, voices overlap, someone laughs too loudly. I stand back for a moment longer, watching him through it instead of joining it. He smiles. He nods. He offers praise exactly where he should. I gesture that I’m heading inside, allowing him to focus on the people who need his attention right now.

I’m not worried about it since I know he’s already made plans for us later.

By the time we leave Austria later that week, Apex Orion Racing is confident. Barcelona proved the system. Austria proved the driver. Now we’re heading to the British Grand Prix with something we didn’t have before: a real shot. Team briefings, combined with every trial run, reflect what we’re all thinking.

Leo can win.

Silverstone feels different before we even arrive. There’s weight in it, a kind of history that presses in from all sides. The track itself demands precision, but it’s the space around it that shifts something deeper.

This is where Leo was raised. And I feel the pressure the moment we step into the paddock.

In him.

I should be focused on calibration refinements we’re still making to optimize responsiveness through high-speed corners. But instead, I find myself watching him. Watching the way he moves through the garage, the way he listens during debriefs, the way he responds when Dario challenges him on minor adjustments.

For someone who hasn’t been let into his heart, they would assume nothing’s wrong. Except I now know better. He’s not fully here.

He’s quieter. Not distant but contained in a way that makes me feel like I’m watching him brace for impact instead of preparing for a race I know he can win. This could just be his own internal pressure, but I don’t believe that. Not when I’ve seen him at his best and worst.

Getting him away from the team, I keep my voice neutral as I talk with him. “Telemetry looks clean through Sector Two.”

“It felt clean,” he replies.

“Leo.”

Something flickers across his expression before it smooths out. “What?”

“Walk with me.” It’s not a request.