Page 87 of Break My Heart

He hesitates for half a second, then follows. We move away from the main flow of the paddock, past the garages and clusters of movement until the noise dulls into something manageable. It’s quieter here, enough that I can focus on him without distraction.

I open with, “You’re off.”

His brow furrows. “I’m not.”

“You are. You’re driving well. The system is performing. The data supports everything we’ve built.”

“But—” He draws the word out.

“You’re not here.”

This time he doesn’t deflect. His face crumbles before he’s able to look away. That’s when I know I’m right because Leo doesn’t avoid conversations with me any longer.

“I feel how close I am to everything I ran away from,” he says finally.

I get it now. He’s thinking about his family. This place that shaped him in ways he still hasn’t fully shaken. “How close are they?”

He exhales slowly. “The family estate borders begin about twenty kilometers west of here.”

“Yet, they’ve never come to a race?” I’m incredulous.

“No, they haven’t. They won’t, but I’m certain they’ll see the coverage. The results. Photos.”

He’s worried they’ll continue to judge him without ever showing up. “You’re certain they won’t reach out?”

His voice holds pain that hasn’t dulled with time. “They won’t. That sums up my life with them.”

My hands shake with the force of my anger. “What about you?” I ask. “What are you feeling?”

“This is what I ran away from, yet I always seem to circle right back here.” The words are resigned in a way that makes my heart twist.

I step closer and lift my hand to rest lightly against his chest. “You aren’t a failure because you refused to absorb their toxicity.”

“That’s not what’s wrong.”

“Then what is it?”

“Like it doesn’t matter how far I go. No matter what I build somewhere else”—he gestures vaguely behind him—“I’ll still always be the version of myself that wasn’t good enough to be loved by the very people who brought me into this world.”

The words are cruelly direct. “You’re not that person anymore.”

He looks at me like he wants to believe that, like he’s not sure he can. I don’t give him space to retreat. “They don’t get to define you.”

“They already did.”

“Then they were wrong.” The words come out sharper than I intended. But I need him to burn them into his heart. “I wouldn’t love you the way I do if that were true.”

His breath stalls. “You love me?”

“I do.”

“I love you too, Chris. I did even when I was a blathering fool who ruined the best thing in my life.”

He wraps me in his arms tightly. Burying his head against the side of my neck, I feel the moisture from his tears as his shoulders shake. I murmur, “You don’t have to face this alone.”

Pulling back, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “I know, but please have patience with me.”

“Why?”