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CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

ROCCO

R occo glanced over at Nico as Casey talked about today’s race—the final race of the season.

The championship was on the line. Not the Constructors—Blue Jet Lightning already had that one in the bag—but the Drivers.

Anker, Clarke, and Rocco were so close in points, any one of them could take it. It was all riding on today’s race.

Rocco wouldn’t be in this position if it weren’t for Nico. If he’d kept going the way he was once they’d returned from the break, this season would have been his last. Not only would Maverick have let him go, he felt certain no other team would want to take him on.

And here he was, with a real shot to win the trophy, which he hadn’t won in years.

The atmosphere had drastically improved off the track as well as on it after Nico had set him straight.

They were friendly now. She was always there when the team celebrated a win.

But there were no more intimate moments between them.

Whenever they encountered each other, there were always other people around.

While the animosity was gone, it still was tense—at least for him. He didn’t know how she felt or what she was thinking.

He tried to get a sense of that from Celeste, who talked to Nico from time to time.

But he didn’t learn much. According to Celeste, they never discussed him.

He’d consistently asked Celeste if she was seeing anybody, but Celeste was no help there either.

Rocco wondered sometimes about Leo Clarke because he often saw the two of them talking.

Clarke was handsome and charming and all those things women liked.

But to Rocco’s eyes, it looked like nothing more than friendly talk between drivers.

But did it look that way because that’s what it was or because that’s what he hoped it was?

Rocco wished he could have a do-over, do things differently.

But how exactly? Maybe if he’d had some time before he had to face her once he learned the truth about that night, some time to get past that initial anger, and …

okay, damn it—hurt. He’d avoided using that word, but Dario and Celeste had used it.

He hadn’t talked about Nico to his family, not one of them.

Even though it kept them in the dark and clueless as to what had happened, he preferred that to them knowing the truth.

They’d liked Nico when they met her, really liked her.

His nieces loved her. As angry as he was, as hurt as he was, he didn’t feel right about undermining that.

Maybe it had something to do with what Celeste had said.

Nico didn’t know him back then. And more importantly, he didn’t know her.

He suspected his family figured it had something to do with Mickey. After all, Nico had left when Mickey had. And from then on, Rocco wouldn’t talk about her.

Casey clapped his hands. “Okay, let’s go out there and give it our best!”

Rocco followed Nico out of the room and tapped her shoulder. When she turned around, he tilted his head toward an empty hallway to their right.

He kept as much distance from her as possible in the narrow hallway.

But the distance did nothing to temper the violent influence her dark eyes had on him; it didn’t change the fact that her collarbone was a thing of beauty or that his fingers itched when he looked at it; it didn’t even stop that scent from reaching him like the fingers of some primitive creature that would not be stopped by space, time, or any sort of resolve the brain might try to put upon the body.

A strand of her raven hair fell in front of her eyes, and the temptation to sweep it back was so powerful he might have done it had she not.

He cleared his throat. “I wanted to talk to you before the race. I just want you to know I don’t expect you—I mean, yeah, we’re a team and yes, I have a shot at the championship, but it’s up to me to win it.

If I do, great; and if I don’t, well that’s okay too.

It’s still been a great season. I wouldn’t change anything. I mean, on the track.”

“I understand.”

What was he trying to say? Just talk about the racing .

“There’s a saying—you’re only as good as your last race. So, let’s make it a good one.”

Why did he say that?

You sound like a fucking used-car salesman.

Smiling, she nodded and made a move to leave.

“Wait!”

She turned.

He swallowed. “You know, I owe you a lot. The way things were going before you, well, set me straight. I wouldn’t have a shot at this if it weren’t for you. I just wanted to be sure you know that—you know that I know it.”

She shook her head but wouldn’t meet his gaze. “That might be overstating—”

“No!” he said firmly. So firmly, he could see he’d startled her. She stared at him.

“I’m not overstating things. I’m just saying that I get that that little prince needed that girl to come into his life and his village to set things right.”

She laughed. “I can’t believe you brought that up.”

He chuckled and then suddenly stopped, biting his lip. “Stupid, huh? I don’t know why, exactly. I guess it just sticks.”

She shrugged. “Maybe that’s why fairy tales last and we keep telling the same ones over and over again.” Finally, she met his gaze. “As you said, they sort of—stick.”

He stared into those dark eyes, searching for that window. “Maybe because we wish life could be like that.”

“Maybe,” she said in a quiet voice.

“Nico, I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance.” He swallowed. “I mean, I should have let you ex—”

“Uncle Rocco!”

Nearly breathless, Sofia and Beatrice came running up.

“We have some—” Beatrice sputtered, still trying to catch her breath.

“Thing to tell you,” Sofia added, trying to catch her breath as well. “We’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Most definitely and to be sure,” Beatrice said. “It’s important.”

The two girls looked over at Nico and quickly looked away.

“We need to talk to you. Now,” said Sofia, casting another swift glance at Nico.

“Okay,” Rocco said. “What is it?”

“We can’t say,” Beatrice said, rolling her eyes in dramatic fashion toward Nico. “It’s private.”

Rocco frowned, looking over at Nico, who was staring at the girls. He saw red flames ignite on her cheeks.

Suddenly, Isabella appeared. “There you two are. I told you not to bother your uncle Rocco before a race.”

Shoulders slumped, drooping mouths, the girls both sighed and allowed themselves to be dragged away by their mother.

Suddenly, Beatrice broke free and ran back. “Don’t worry, Saturn Girl,” she whispered to Nico, but still loud enough so Rocco could hear. “We’ve got your back.”

“Beatrice!” shouted Isabella.

After his niece was gone, Rocco stared at Nico, but she wouldn’t meet his gaze.

“Did she just call you Saturn Girl?”

Nico waved her hand and gave a little laugh. “Private joke. Well, remember …”

“‘Speed has never killed anyone. Suddenly becoming stationary … That’s what gets you.’”

She blinked, looking surprised. “Right.”

She made a move to give a bro-hug, but they both pulled back from the sudden spark.

“These suits,” she said.

“Yeah, these suits.”