“I SHOULD BE DOWN THERE, doing last-minute checks.”
“Babe, relax, Ben and Robbie have got it. The car’s fine. She’s more than ready. You’re more use to me here.” He wraps his arms around my waist from behind. Chin resting on my shoulder, he stares out the window in front of us. “I like having you here with me before a race. You’re my new pre-race ritual.”
That should make me feel warm and safe, but it doesn’t. Nothing can penetrate the wall of fear that’s built up inside me.
I’ve been riding on nerves all day, nerves that I’ve been fighting to conceal from Carrick. I don’t want to put his focus off. I don’t want him worrying about me. I want him focused on his race.
I haven’t been able to eat all day. I hardly slept last night. After Carrick carried me to bed, I just lay there, watching him, as he slept on me. As I ran my fingers through his hair, my body was stiff from the weight of him, but I couldn’t move because I didn’t want to. I was scared that it could be my last night with him, and I needed him as close to me as possible. I needed to hold him.
I’m so scared that this race is going to take him from me.
I know I’m being irrational. But I can’t help it. It feels beyond my control now.
I wish I were different. Wish that I were stronger for him.
When did things get so bad for me?
The moment I fell in love with him.
My fear just keeps escalating, growing like a monster. And I just keep having the insistent urge to tell him to not go out there. To stay here with me forever. To never leave.
Each race has just gotten worse than the one before, and I wonder when it’s going to reach its peak and if that peak will be manageable. Right now, it’s barely feeling tolerable.
I feel like I’m on the edge of a cliff, staring down at the rocky bottom, with no choice but to fall.
“Babe…talk to me.”
My mind jolts back to him. “About?” I try to keep my voice even, light.
“About why your body is locked up tight even though I’m wrapped around you.”
I turn my head, looking at him. “I’m just a little nervous…about the race.”
“I’ve told you, there’s nothing to be nervous about. You’ve seen me race a hundred times before.”
“Not exactly a hundred times. And you weren’t the most important person in my life then.” The words fall from my lips. It was the wrong thing to say but the right thing to say for so many differing reasons.
His eyes fill with warmth and everything he feels for me, which I know is a lot. I just don’t know exactly how much.
Carrick hasn’t said that he loves me.
Even though I want him to love me, a part of me—the cowardly part—doesn’t want him to. If he did, it would make everything so much harder.
“You know that goes both ways, right? You’re at the top of my list…not that it’s a long list. Well, actually, there’s only you and my dad on it.”
He grins, turning me in his arms to face him. I brush my thumb over the curve of his smile, and he bites down playfully on it.
“I like that you worry about me, but you do remember who I am, right? Carrick Ryan, best driver in the world. I’ve got this racing shit down pat, babe. I’m going to do this race, and then we’ll celebrate my win in bed where I’m going to fuck you six ways from Sunday.”
I force a smile. “Only six ways?”
“There’s my girl.” He brushes his lips over mine. “God, I fucking adore you, Andressa.”
And I love you, Carrick.
There’s a knock at the door before I can reply.
“Time.” Ben’s head pops around the door.
“Coming.” Carrick gives me another kiss.
I can taste his pre-ritual race Galaxy chocolate on his tongue, and for some reason, it chokes tears in my throat, bringing that desperation rising in me again.
Curling my fingers into his racing overalls, I press harder to his mouth, needing more from him.
Giving me what I want, his arms come around me, crushing me to his body. He kisses me almost like it’s the first and last time he ever will.
Please come back to me.
Breaking off, panting, his eyes alight with desire. He presses his lips to my forehead, humming the words over my skin, “Fucking adore you, babe.”
Sliding his hand into mine, he grabs his helmet off the side, and we leave his room together, following Ben downstairs to the garage.
Carrick pulls his balaclava and helmet on. He winks at me before pulling the visor down. Then, he climbs in the cockpit. Ben straps him in. The steering wheel is fitted.
He’s ready to go.
Come back.
His head turns to me just before it’s time for him to pull out for the tire warm-up. He taps two fingers to his helmet, and then he pulls out of the garage and onto the tracks.
And I step back to watch him on the screens.
I’m driving myself insane. I can’t talk to anyone. A few times, Petra and Ben have tried to make conversation with me about the race, but my stare always stays fixed on the screens, my mouth mumbling back one-word responses.
My eyes are dry and sore because I’m so afraid to blink in case I miss something.
I can’t miss a thing.
Carrick’s been driving well…really well. But he hasn’t come in for a tire change yet, and that’s starting to bother me. He’s going to need a change soon. He’s been riding the car hard.
He’s on a straight at the moment, fast approaching a corner. A backmarker is in front of him, and I know Carrick is getting frustrated, wanting to pass. I can see it in the aggressive movement of his car. I don’t need to be on the control desk to know that he’s cursing the other driver to hell. I can hear Owen’s voice from here, telling him to take it easy.
I flick a worried glance in Owen’s direction, but my eyes go straight back to the screens, scanning for the circuit marshal with his blue flag to tell the backmarker to let Carrick pass.
I see the flag come up. Thank God.
They’re almost on the corner when the flag comes up, and I expect the backmarker to slow down, pull back, to let Carrick pass.
But he’s not slowing.
Did he not see the flag?
Then, I see it happen in the split second before it does.
The other driver, in his arrogance, doesn’t slow enough for the turn. His back wheels spin out just as Carrick is cutting past to outbreak him. The backmarker’s rear-end tails out, straight into the path of Carrick’s car. It hits the front, sending Carrick’s car spinning out across the track and slamming into a wall.
No!
The scream gets caught in my throat.
I want to run, go to him, but I’m frozen in place. My eyes are wide with fear, my hands covering my mouth, as I desperately search the screens for a sign that he’s moving in the cockpit. I can see the debris of his car littering the track, and the marshal is scrambling the wall to get to him.
There’s silence all around. Apart from Owen. I can hear his frantic voice, checking for Carrick, asking him to respond that he’s okay.
My heart is beating so hard that it’s painful.