Page 35
“He’s alive!” Sebastian shouted from across the hotel bar where a few other Kaz Energy Racing team members were scattered around, chatting over beers. It was easy for my brother to make friends—to be bright and welcoming. Probably because he genuinely liked everyone he met and could strike up a conversation with just about anyone. It never failed to shock me when he remembered the names of every pit crew member’s kids. He was every bit our mother. Same shaggy light brown hair, same blue eyes. His beaming smile was aimed straight at me as he waved me over.
“Got you a pint!” he said as I walked up, pushing a fresh beer toward me. The foam sloshed over the rim, dripping down the side of the glass and pooling onto the bar.
“Fuck, sorry!” he added quickly, grabbing an unnecessarily large stack of napkins and earning a look from the bartender. Sebastian just shot him a wink and a casual “I got it” before mopping it up.
He was so considerate sometimes it genuinely made me want to smack him. Seriously, it was annoying how nice he was. In the DNA split, I got none of the sunshine. I was all my father’s sharp edges.
I wrapped my hand around the glass, cool condensation already slick against my palm, and took a long sip. Bitter. Cold. Exactly what I needed.
“Thought you ditched us,” Sebastian said, leaning his elbows onto the bar like he planned on settling in for the long haul.
“Thought about it,” I muttered.
He huffed out a laugh like that was a joke. It wasn’t.
Behind him, the team was loud—half-drunk already, but happy and talking about the latest gossip in the paddocks. I tuned it out, uninterested in it all. The low hum of music mixed with clinking glass and bursts of laughter. Everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves, but I couldn’t get my mind to shake the feeling of Maisey in my arms when we collided in the hallway.
Sebastian studied me for a second longer than I liked, his smile softening just a fraction. “You good?”
There it was. Sebastian saw through every single one of my walls, no matter how high they were. I knew I wasn’t giving anything away on the outside, but he was a perceptive bastard. I took another swig of my drink instead of answering.
“Brilliant deflection,” he called me out. “Really convincing.”
“Drop it, Seb.”
He didn’t. Of course he didn’t.
“You’ve been off all day,” he went on, quieter now. Not pushing, exactly—but not letting it go either. “I thought the interview went okay? The team seemed happy.”
“It was fine.”
“That’s not what this is about.”
My jaw tightened. I hated that he knew me that well, hated that he always knew where to press. I set the glass down a little harder than necessary. “Not everything is something, Sebastian.”
He raised a brow. “And yet somehow, with you, it always is.”
For a second, I thought about snapping back, saying something sharp enough to end the conversation. It would’ve been easy—it was my default setting. Instead, my gaze drifted past him, over the crowd as if I was trying to conjure her to be downstairs. I saw a flash of red, and I felt the jolt of expectation shoot through me. I stared until the woman’s chin turned, revealing it was not Maisey. She was pretty though, her hair a lighter strawberry blonde rather than Maisey’s rich ginger. She was tucked into the far corner of the bar, half-hidden by a group of people I didn’t recognize. She was laughing at something someone said, head tilted slightly back, hair falling over her shoulder almost like Maisey’s did.
My grip tightened around the edge of the bar.
“Ah,” Sebastian said softly, following my line of sight. “So that’s what this is about.”
“Don’t,” I warned.
“Oh, I’m absolutely going to,” he said under his breath, a hint of a grin tugging at his mouth. “You’ve been in a mood. I was starting to think you’d finally lost it.”
“I haven’t—”
“You have,” he cut in. “Just not about racing.”
I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face. “It’s nothing.”
“Right,” Sebastian said. “And I’m the reserved one.”
I shot him a glare, but it didn’t land the way I wanted it to. Not when he was already watching me like he had the whole story figured out. He wasn’t wrong. Because no matter how many years had passed, no matter how much distance I’d put between then and now… Seeing Maisey had felt like stepping onto that hill at fourteen—heart in my throat, chest too tight. I needed to clear my head, needed a distraction. I grabbed my drink again, downing more than I meant to.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Sebastian said, seeing right through my mental plan.
